T H E E N D C O M M U N E

I am afraid of submitting my soul to the mortal might of some phantasmagoric effigy, so I make up mind instead to grapple only with truth where truth so can be found; may it be that it is a truth of a subjective niche, nearing and approximating a Kierkegaardian epistemology, but whatever it is, it shall be grappled with―I shall grapple with it nevertheless! I will find out how one finds God without burning off in the midst of God’s fearsome aureole, like a small comet impacted with the atmospheric layers of the earth? A worthless insect to the fly strip! To be honest, and to, for but a second, leash the hyperbole: at least, I really want to try. Maybe I shall fall on some autumnal dawn like a crisp leaf to the hoarfrost ground and maybe I will come to the very end and exhaust my resources to desperate depletion on my merchant’s route? Will I fail way before I am developed enough to reach the gate of the forgiving and jubilating embrace?