Louis Aston Knight's Flower by the Edge of the River
I can’t bear it and not because the change I’ve so long anticipated is nowhere in sight but I’m bothered by the near comfort I take from the mundanity of todays that too often resembles yesterdays. I’m afraid of my pass, terrified my ills will manifest themselves as some awful change and so I’m glad to wallow here in the relative misery of Tuesdays that favours Saturdays. I’ve been wicked and ungrateful but it does not weight so heavy I fear as the worry of the consequence that karma promises. Though, why I a non-religious descendant of nonpracticing Catholics and Jews turned Rasta and half-assed Buddhist should worry so about sin is beyond me.
Bad people get away with murder all the time while innocent babies die from hunger. Let’s face it, good things happen to bad people all the time without rhyme or reason and still I can’t help but fret over the grand judgement. I wonder if that is a universal human worry.
My love my care,