What a delightful word. I learned it by missing it on an online quiz. I could see the eight in it, but eight what? Eight thorps? I’m still not sure about that; however, if you look at the number of ends visible on the hashtag lines, you can see that there are indeed eight. Hence, apparently, a hashtag is an octothorp, though why we need two words for such a symbol I shall delve into another time.
A week ago Sunday evening I was making my way from my downstairs room to the laundry room/bathroom where I finish up the day, brushing my teeth, taking my medicine. I had just stepped into the hallway when all hell broke loose and I found myself moving at light speed down the hall, following behind my walker, then crashing into the laundry room/bath room door frame. No bones broken but I had fallen and I could not get up! I called for help since I was flat on the floor, bleeding and sore. She came, she called our son, he came and managed to get me into my wheelchair and thus to bed. My son bandaged the bleeding spots; I took some drugs and blissfully slept, waking up off and on, took some more drugs and tried not to think about it.
That is the second time such a thing occurred and I still have no idea how it happens. Thus I live on the edge, truly terrified each time I step into the hall, and I count myself fortunate each time I make it safely back to my room. All of these words may account for the content of what follows; probably not but who knows? Accidents occur but there are no accidents. Lately I have felt very much like Job. Apparently, God has left Satan free to test me. Well Satan has touched every part of my body at this point. And, yes, I have tried to be righteous, but with not great success, and I know I wasn’t there when the Big Bang occurred or when the dinosaurs roamed the earth, so maybe the testing could ease off?
Thus we begin:
Just let me die, Lord
I feel so solid, substantial, so real.
How then can I die, cease to be?
I’m willing to participate, cooperate,
Say farewell, adieu, say goodbye
But the Angel of death presses on,
Passes by, says “soon enough, old guy.”
I scrubbed the blood off my forehead,
Rubbed till my skin felt raw.
“Dead is dead,” the dark Angel said,
“Don’t be so anxious to die!”
Yes, but I’m tired, I’m a burden
My body fails me every day, every way;
My mind has the habit of sin, nasty sin,
So just let me die, pass away.
“Pass away, fool? What a dumb phrase!
Only the winds and days pass away.
People die, disappear in the fire
Or down in the ground in a box
There’s only one hope and you know it;
It’s surely not pie in the sky.
If God knows your name and remembers,
It’s resurrection in the sweet by and by.
Today’s Thought
Perhaps a somewhat comic interlude:
Like the bat hanging
Tight to the bare limb,
The last autumn leaf
Tries to imitate him.
Like a yellow bird
Flying upside down,
The last autumn leaf
Floats gently to the ground.
[without attending too much to the content of the above, cast your eyes and ears upon the almost perfect form!]
Angel and Man
The single-minded Angel
Beholds the face of God,
Surrounded by celestial light
He need not reck the rod.
The human soul by contrast
Is blinded much by sin;
The only way for him to see
Is to look for God within.
Prayer is a conversation,
A turning toward the Lord;
Silence is an answer,
Communication is restored.
Father, let your silence
Re-establish our concord,
For without your loving presence
Human life has no reward.
[It might seem as though I saw them when I had my close encounter with the bathroom floor, but that is not the case. I was sitting when I saw them exploring for three days. But then alas! Death took them: curled and shriveled the were:]
Three many legged crawly bugs
Lived on my bathroom floor.
I watched them for a day or two
Or maybe one day more.
Each crazy creepy crawly bug,
Short and thin as a thread,
Walked the floor that third day,
Then turned up truly dead.
I miss the creepy crawly bugs,
Miss watching them explore
Every nook and cranny
On our new-tiled bathroom floor.
Thank God for little bugs and things
With alien paraphernalia;
I see them in my sleep sometimes
Without their genitalia.
[Sorry! But you try to find a decent-hmm-rhyme with paraphernalia! Beside it makes me chuckle after a touch of dreariness. I hope you are keeping track of the central idea at work throughout thes verses and such. I need to check but I believe there’s one more:]
What’s in a picture: three owls three:
Portrait: Three Owls
Three owls sitting on a broken window sill;
Looking like people look who mean you Ill;
One looks quirky, two look at me,
Haunting expressions for one to see.
What do they mean, those strange owls three?
Are they omens of disaster to be?
Should I be concerned that they’re looking at me,
When they ought to be looking for an ancient oak tree?
