I’m done with God.
But I won’t work for the Devil;
I won’t recruit you unto godlessness or argue with you godlessly.
You can believe what you need to believe.
You have a well ten thousand years deep with excuses from which to draw dust.
Alas, it is better not to be, Horatio (or Robin Williams or Crawley or whatever sound stamps your dust); Alack, sifting pity and grief.
My finger writes in this very dust of electrons on this glass wall and moves on:
God I am finished with you, you are found wanting, and I divide your kingdom among the maggots.
Suffering and sorrow are incomprehensible.
Suffering and sorrow are perfectly natural,
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But, the most ancient scrolls are kept on: THE TABLE OF MALCONTENTS