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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required the man lay dying & like many men before he was suddenly surrounded by an intervening troupe whose mission it was to make him like them “before it was too late”--- now, whether or not “too late,” is a measurable amount of time, outside the obvious notion that one’s death is one’s death, all she wrote, etc. etc., understand that there are those that believe there is a life beyond & that there is a boogeyman in the sky watching over us all & torturing us all, in that dual love/hate psychosis which the interveners aspire to. to “protect himself from himself,” to “save him,” the interveners claim that they are coming between him & the force that he hasn’t submitted to--- “if you just make your peace with him, all will be well,” they suggest like a mafia don wanting a service in the future, capitalizing on the desperation that comes from a person in dire straits whose life has already been compromised by an illness. thrusting the cowardly & dishonest wager of pascal, the delusion of “eternal happiness in the hereafter,” and the possibility of all the wrongdoings of a life somehow being “forgiven” (as if all those living, breathing, humans involved, were to forgive him as well, by default, for all the wrong that he has done to them) in his face, these savage idiots put all their energy into making one more notch in their belt, one more “conversion” prior to a person’s death, one more action which they feel no regrets or misgivings about---because “they did the right thing”--- they “saved his soul.” and they do so with an authority gained from nothing, a hubris that stems from nowhere & the audacity of a fascist dictator forcing that first will into complete submission.
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