I shiver when I remember— as I try to de-realize it.I blow warm air into my hands, to heat them up.But it's hard to keep them warm when the souls still shiver.God.I always say that name when I think of it.God.Twice, I speak it.I say His name in a futile attempt to understand. "But it's not your job to understand." That's me who answers. God never says anything. You think you're the only one he never answers? "Your job is to . . ." AndI stop listening to me, because to put it bluntly, I tire me. When I start thinking like that, I become so exhausted, and I don't have the luxury of indulging fatigue. I'm compelled to continue on, because although it's not true for every person on earth, it's true for the vast majority—that death waits for no man—and if he does, he doesn't usually wait very long.
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