I feel somewhat like Quoheleth of old, to wit, that everything is vanity – empty, vacuous, without rhyme or reason, ultimately meaningless – in my own life, at least. Degrees seem like nothing more than worthless pieces of paper, writings best sacrificed to the flames, work both past and present inconsequential … and loneliness shrouds me like a woolen garment in mid-summer. I am lost in an inhospitable wilderness, no longer searching for the illusive Promised Land, but only for water to satiate my terrible thirst. No oasis appears on the horizon, and only dæmonic voices can be heard beneath the searing sun, while screeching wraiths dance round my dying frame in the midnight hour, salivating over my damned soul. This is how I feel.
What cause? Walking this earth an intolerable lifetime alone and lonely, unloved because unlovable, untouched and unburied, repugnant and without life; merely existing, one wasted man in this wasted world. No eyes look upon with compassion, no tears are shed; no kindly smiles are offered, no arms reach to embrace; no cool clothe to wipe my fevered brow, no sweet kiss and gentle caress.
It’s a cheap trick, boy, more than a soul pin-prick;
Dicey to play the game; it always ends the same
Walking down this lonely road on a starlit night
With dust on your shoes … and love –
Love out of sight.
Into the deep quagmire of depression I descend once again, but only to question again if this is not another epiphany, an uncovered, naked realization of truth. For all the kindly words spoken, courtesies extended, services happily rendered, compliments paid, gifts given, prayers prayed and screams in the night; there is still no one. I’ve been given no guardian angel, yet I dare not complain. The divine mandate is issued without any recourse to flights of human fancy and desires born of primordial urges. I would serve as the servant of all servants, yet even God gives me breathe only to fill space that, in the mystery of life, cannot be left vacant. How should I then expect anyone else to want me?
With each passing day the grave looks more the kindly home than my own wrecked heart could ever be, this dark and haunted domicile of my soul. Let me go, Governor; let me go! Mine eyes have seen your glory and the glory of your salvation; the liberation of people called your own, your children, and the One who was born to be Liberator. Now let me depart in peace. There is nothing more; for me, there has been nothing, to be received nor to offer, or if offered no one to receive nor who cares to receive. Why continue in futility? Have you consigned me to the Purgatorial fires here in this world? But to what avail, when I’ll surely descend again into the purifying flames? Free me, for the sake of your mercy, for there is no one here for me, no one to whom I can turn, no bosom upon which to lay my head. My life is rot, my work refuse, and should I meet the one of whom I’ve dreamed and for whom I’ve longed, she could not long look to me, repugnant, and I have not the strength to make appeal. No, wedding chimes are heard at the tomb. I’ll give myself completely to the ground, make love to the earth, and celebrate in the netherworld.
Born in darkness unbidden, you left me forlorn;
And deaf to my cries, forever hidden your face…
And where now my heart, no soul but shade,
But eternally imprisoned in the land of oblivion?
This child of yours, this creature you made,
Begging your favor! God, arouse and awaken!
And all my hopes and dreams and aspirations lie once again, shattered on the ground of reality.