I'm a rambler these days.
I don't make much sense.

The past is dead.

And the present is blurred.

The future a joke.

What difference does it make?
My

education.

Knowledge

is

relative,

and we can't even be sure we know anything.
My epistomologies are decaying.
My god figures are grinning.

Your picture is in the bible (the one my grandfather gave me, I threw away your mother's).

So I sit in the dark.
With a bottle of water. And I write,
write,
wrtie.
What does it matter?
There are know books.
There are no words.
Its all be figured out.

So C.B. Moore and Thomas Paine

will still be read

and will still be quoted.

(don't forget your hanging indention).