A Millennium Man confronts the Life Equation

God_and_Universe_painting2 copy

I felt like I was crucifying Christ that stormy day, watching those workers load up my family’s history into their truck. The destination was the junkyard,and that would be that. It seemed that I was doomed to be the gravedigger of three hundred years of the most gentle-hearted souls whose stories and graces will never see any candlelit vigils. Was I burning the temple of better gods or on a path to find them?

It is clear that I am not a poet nor cherish the criticism of poets. I cannot assign the Faulkners and Whitmans a place in the Pantheon. Their art is dead. Nothing they have said means anything to anyone now. I can only admire their creations and thus — despite their planetary flaws —  wonder about great literature. One person believes Hemingway was a mountain, others believe he was a shit pond.

I am a man of this age. I have to look to the future and forget the past. Pictures and mementos are not keen for our survival.  We must unlock new worlds and solve the equation of life.