TROUBLE IN THE RANKS
The pall of condemnation hangs low, bowing down the heads of rank on rank of bottom feeders that stare oblivion in the face. Depression loves company & heaven help the one who tries to leave. But he does. And try as they might to keep him in line his gaze is fixed on another horizon. Freedom always strikes resistance if it’s to move anywhere at all. The merchants of cool work diligently to include every new idea in their cage,stamping it to sleep with dissipation on tap. But he’s lost to that flavor; the thirst for a life-giving brew already burning in his heart.It’s lighting up his thinking that was once intent on death. He’s looking desperately for a grasp to break from their hold, now that the love of truth is upon him. He may have to leave handfuls of flesh in their grip if he means business, but it’s his flesh that cannot inherit the air he seeks to breathe so it’s no loss. All this is unknown to him in his first sublime response to the words: ‘come, follow me’