Have any doubt, that they are witness to a cause, that having done, was never worthy of the salt? Is there a jealousy, of yet unproven scheme, as I dream this thing up? Was there a wish, within the cold and hollow heart, you'd been the one...to carry this thing off?
Was there a worry, nay, a hope that I had failed...just a twinge, of: 'why'd it have to be him?' I thought of that myself. I am no diff'rent mind. I am just, less endowed the harm, to hurt another one. It takes muscle, that...I haven't got. That God withheld, and simply 'wouldn't let me down', for all of us.
For this, for you...he separated me, made we a prisoner of times. That, like a beast, we groan. we move about, questioning our self. What have we done? Are we so flawed, that we're alone? Thus, ever...led that all to this, here...building strange wisdom, suffering observation, but never, with anyone.
Could you have done that? Could any of you there, have done that thing...that haul of years to solitary confinement, keeping your mind? See, ye now...was made for this, was we, a chosen vessel of a certain need.
Not a schemer. Not a clever man at all...just a man, confined to see the world and other's, in the measure of himself. While you laughed, and you sinned, and you played in your care worn world, I...behind the bars, gave thought to this.
This is why, 'the gift' was given me. Not because, I'm more. Because, I'm likely least, to blame...God Almighty.
Namaste
Written by Bruce James Clyde, at Deming, New Mexico
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