Wednesday, April 27, 2011
Thousand: Three Hundred Fifty-Eight
get out of bed, if I’m in a soft bed. If I’m camping in warm sand I can watch the stars all night. If I’m in a prison cell, well, I’ve been in prison cells before. Many. Down through the years. And if I’m God, okay. I die and rise again. I die and rise again. That’s not what I mean by eternal life, though. It’s that I meet people like myself. I still marvel at it. The man, the woman, once in awhile even a child, who knows what I will say next because that’s what they’re thinking, too.
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1 comment:
Finishing sentences off for one another can be a comforting or alternatively an annoying pastime, Glenn. It's almost as if we can read, or imagine we can read, the other's mind, like god.
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