The Rage

I come before you, humble and contrite, deaf from your thunder, sightless from your bolts. You rage, but frankly it’s a downright anachronistic in this day - the volts, the decibels, all of these fireworks are for a newbie, not for someone who once looked inside your mystery black box and made a plain and obvious breakthrough: we do not differ, you and me. The same blue eyes, short beard, marital status, age, surname, forename and patronymic name and tendency to fall into a rage about nothing… So, please, abate your fury, put aside your thundering rod, absolve me of my sins, elucidate your plan about me and date me, God.