health is a fickle and friendly creature; by far the strangest.
i have attempted amends with my neurons and synapses
and tried to shake hands with the reddest of blood cells
this heart palpitates at a fast pace on an unhappy track
towards death; and i try to be as kind as possible, measuring
staccato beats with glimpses of worldly beauty and a few good
books. to repay kindness is a gift and life - the happy accident.
i have fiddled around with the nerves and nodes and
stayed up all night agonizing with the bacteria. the narrowest
bones lend a cozy space to recline after the day's work is done
stitching up the myelin sheath when its insides become outsides.
so from where do these unkindnesses come? does a god
have the chance to look and disagree with the insides of life? i
should like to crawl in through the inner ear of some deity and
reorganize the bases and acids until they metastasize into
something much more difficult than they could have imagined. it
should be true that god is faulty the same way we are: wired
into codes and projected into programs that disassemble at the
slightest of provocations.
i don't pretend to know the code to the program, but it
seems unimaginable that anyone could have written it this way.