To have stood and watched him jerk to death on that criminal’s tree then only days later see him walking around good as new, almost like nothing happened save for those scars? Then for him to be at the table a stretch of days eating and laughing just like before until suddenly everything sounds serious and he’s reeled back into the stars where he came from in the first place? To have witnessed his unbelievable conclusion
guaranteed a lifetime sentence of madness,
a madness which try as one might
could not be cured. It could only be endured.
But the enduring is something.
seek and you shall find
- RT @marykarrlit: Wisest writer question on the planet from my Jesuit breakfast companion: What wd you write if you weren't afraid? 10 hours ago
- RT @thehighcalling: No Time for Lies, by @johnblase for @thehighcalling thehighcalling.org/reflection/fin… http://t.co/OoUuyNvx4G 10 hours ago
- But Until Then wp.me/p1ARVX-1We 10 hours ago