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Life..?
In the very depths of time and space, far across the multi dimensional plains of existence, both physical and spiritual, past brightly shining stars and a variety of planets, asteroids, and spacial dust clouds stretching for billions of miles, there stands the greatest of beings. One who formed every speck of dirt and whiff of gas throughout the Universe, and did so from a single idea brought to light. That being, the almighty Himself, merciful and loving, powerful and compassionate, to the just and unjust alike, and I truly believe He is laughing at me. . .
Here I sit, at a desk cluttered over with the cast-offs of discarded thoughts, writings and ramblings of years gone passed, jotted down on countless reams of notebooks, loose pages of crumpled paper, the odd assortment of scratch pads and napkins, old envelops and scribbled on backs of business cards of companies long closed. Ideals, moral values, hopes and dreams, piled high and stuffed in drawers so full they can hardly be opened.
Computer disks, floppies, and scratched up music CDs, fill many a rack on the wall, and even stacked on top of those until it threatens to slide off onto the floor just as messy with of odd scraps and coffee cups overflowing from a trash can that should have been dumped weeks ago. File after file of old imagining and snippet stories never to bear fruit in this day and age, as it is always replaced by the next odd chaotic meandering of a mad-man's wild grasp for sanity.
Dishes left unwashed; plates, glasses and pans crammed in the sink and on top of a counter already layered with styro-foam cartons, to-go boxes, and almost empty deli sacks of carry-out dinners and delivered meals. A colorful display of chip bags and half buried dip bowls that look as though they have new growth taking root within, like an old chia pet lost in the shuffle of by-gone years.
And this over a number of old dictionaries, thesauruses, cross-references, no telling how many bible-concordances or study books, from single Gospel-tracks to full-blown novels of new and ancient literature alike. One on top the other, crowding out shelves to be no more than dust collectors beneath cast off dirty socks and work clothes, tossed aside in a hurry, to jot down the latest rhyming word for a line of ever-changing poetry never be finished.
In the midst of all the beautiful clutter, and scratchy squeak of hidden speakers, I can just make out the ever present chuckle of our precious Savior’s voice as I dig through the massive array of an odd style of existence, in search of the one thing I probably don't have anyway... An eraser.
Yes, I can hear His oh-so-calm giggle, and those lively words I know so well. "My child, you need to get a life."
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