"I stood gimlet-eyed in the Hall to Paradise."
Grayness reigns in days of rains
The shadows fall on plaintive strains
Or nothing much at all is said
On those days, left for dead.
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Peter,An observation of the style of my posts might suggest an incongruity. Let's call it a 'cultural' difference.Thank you for the offer, however.
The doldrums...left for dead indeed. I think I can see what you mean. Sometimes I catch myself thinking "What sort of tale have a fallen into?" This afternoon found me waiting for that same homeless person. I was sitting on a stone next to a pole with green beans and chocolate pudding. But he wasn’t there. Read about St. Hilda of Whitby and St. Odo of Cluny and appealed to both for help. Then, started back towards the apt. I’m in danger of losing my story, it seems. When will I be able to tell it? Will I remember? The whole time under my breath, it’s “Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner.” Tonight is vespers at UMBC with a talk by Matthew Gallatin. Later on tonight, it’s the blood drive. Class and studies all of tomorrow. Urgent care clinic found me taking care of a soft-spoken black girl of 20. Treatment plan determined for some third molar extractions and a supernumery tooth on the back side of an upper premolar. God, I’m in so much pain. I’m losing my purpose. Just need to hang on and trust with all my might. Running at break-neck speed everyday. Truly, I need to cry, stumble, and get up before I can find my way again.
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