Reflective, contemplative and curious. Married, attorney practicing in the areas of real estate and taxation. I would like to be more spiritual but four not so simple questions seem to tear at my fabric.

1. Why were all forms of life created to kill and eat the other forms of life in order to live? (Conceptually, all life is created with the innate characteristic of having to treat in the most viscious manner the other forms of life in order to survive.)
2. If God wants something specific from us, why does He just not say so?
3. Instead, why are we told that we have to choose between the contradictory messages of different alleged "prophets" from thousands of years ago?
4. And, why are we told that one must burn in hell for all eternity if that person makes the unfortunate choice of choosing the wrong prophets "message"?

"The Recluse"

Tormented by an isolated existence
Taunted by oblique aspersions
Yesterday's laughter- most cruel- echoing within
Such horrid treatment from sources unsuspecting
Shyness, symptom of the hidden scars
Supporting the barriers, steel strong, from others

Ah! The barrier shelter - a cruel, yet ironic, trap indeed!
'Tis more miserable inside than out
Withdrawn, the sullen self-exiled yearns for its freedom
Regardless, the barrier shelter walls, too powerful, remain
Asunder, they cannot be torn
Indubitably, a quaint prisoner of one's own accord

Lo, the empty abyss of loneliness remains
Silence, infinite silence
Listen! A solitary utterance in a crowded room cannot be heard
The truth encircling the pattern of a miserable, desolate being
No personality, no opinion, no voice
A million thoughts abound, and yet nothing to say

Muffled tears of the recluse, the only sign to an inattentive world
Subtle, indistinctive, a peculiar message
Dreaming of the cessation of the lonely, uncaring diatribe
An imagined hope, truly, a longing for change
To break the shackles of one's being, of one's essence, of oneself
Oh, if it can only be so!
But, slavery to the depressing cycle of excruciating shyness endures along.
© Marc DeMilt 1997