An Elegy for the Helplessness Blues


So I was playing this priest who prayed all his life to God:
just so much time and energy.
And then perhaps in the most peculiar dream,
one day,
I came upon a man sitting at a bench in this lovely park. I asked him who he was.

He said “Why I am the Lord your God, embodiment of all reality.”

“Well, dear me,” I stuttered.
That so simple a person was so magnetic and at peace,
it must be true.
“I have prayed all this time and praised your holy name so many times.
I thank you. Thank you.”

“Great, great, great” he said. “Why are you here today?”

“Well, Lord” I replied,
“that’s what I’d like to have asked you now myself,”

“Well, are you alive then?” He asked me.

“I dare say so, I am, thank you.”

“Well, what the flying fuck are you talking to me for?”

And he really just gave me a moment.
In that moment, I, I just couldn’t say anything.
I had nothing but my open mouth and his open eyes. & snap!

I woke up then upon my knees realizing I had been in prayer for the last ten years in reach of what I found.
I had it: the Moment, the Opportunity, and nothing.
All my time wasted on a blank.
The Golden Chance for which thousands and thousands have labored on and died and with their bones built traditions on their calcified remains, ever building farther and farther, making myths out of daddy issues.
And I could never let that moment go. It stuck with me.

I went to my father and apologized until I made a fool of myself.
And then I got angry at him and told him what I thought of him right to his face. I said “Fuck you! You wasted your opportunity to build the future with me. You have only brought your own ruin you motherfucking Greek tragedy. Fuck you. Fuck you!”
Until I was hoarse and ever more a fool.

But I felt good.

However, I could still never let go of my lost opportunity.
That I was the lost opportunity left to chance without proper care,
a stutter for a human being.
And I cried.
And I cried and I cried, until I could cry no more.
That’s when I started raging.
Raging at the seams that held me,
I was ripping the clothes off my back.

I picked fights with cruel people because I thought: you’re wasting a perfect opportunity to build a future for yourself.
More nows: more of this.
Because the more of this means you may just get to see that smug motherfucker on that goddamned park bench again.

And one day I picked the terminal fight, I guess.
Can’t say it was the wrong fight when it was for the right reason.
Everything rolled and hurt.
It was confusing: so many not colors and not shades of black and white. Which way was up or down I wasn’t sure.
Only that when I came to I was in another bloody park,
and there was this most peculiar lady sitting with me there.

I said: “Well who are you then?”

She answered, “Why I am the Lord your God, embodiment of all reality”

Well I blew up, crying out “I have fought tooth and bloody fucking nail to get back here again. Finally, thank god! Fuck you! Fuck you!” I cried.
I was such a fool.

“Great, great, great” she said “But why are you here?”

I stopped and was caught,
and I fucking stuttered again,
my mouth agape and hopeless right before her open eyes.
Again…
all this time and all the risks and then again
so stupid, so stupid.

And she was very kind to me because I there began to cry.

She asked me like a misplaced child, “Well, are you alive?”

“I, I think so. I’m not so certain now, to be very honest”

“O. Well, OK. Come along then,” she said.
“Let’s see what we can do about that.”