I have been assured by a very knowing American of my acquaintance in London, that a young healthy child, well nursed, is at a year old, a most delicious, nourishing, and wholesome food, whether stewed, roasted, baked, or boiled; and I make no doubt that it will equally serve in a fricassee, or a ragout.   Swift

Wednesday, October 27, 2004

Living without a creed

I am thinking of that young man huddled in his bedroom and how much I still owe him, the promises he made that I haven't kept.

I am thinking of how he dreamed and didn't allow the impossibility of dreaming to stop him.

I am thinking of how could-still-be slowly drifted into is-and-ever-will-be. I am thinking that it rusted.

I am thinking of the many of us who must sigh and shake our heads. I want to believe we don't have to stop believing. I want to believe that our lives of quiet desperation can still flourish.

Are we marooned on a planet that is cold and unforgiving? Are we set aside and left to waste away? Are we doomed to be real?

I am thinking of that young man thinking of tomorrow and how much I still owe him, the dreams he dreamt that I have still to dream.

posted by Dr Zen @ 1:07 pm

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