michaelangelo

When you see the world around you falling apart, you may turn to God, you may start praying. I start praying a few days ago, with my own invented rite. Because the pain is so intense. When you reach a certain age, you are no more young as you used to be ten years ago, you see the silliness in society, in social conventions. The lack of purpose in everything you do, or are obliged to do (unless making a few richer). Your friends and relative are dying, one by one. The continuous wars everywhere… Then you turn to God and ask (in a blend of fear and rage): “God! Where are you?! Give me a sign, please! Everybody before me told you are powerful, but nevertheless, I am here, alone, with so much pain, watching sufferance everywhere and you do nothing”. Attentive to any sign, then I turn and see around me the sunshine, the flowers, the trees, the hummingbirds, it is beautiful, no doubt, but you want more, much more, and you ask: “Is that all?” Then I remember Prometheus, the Greek Titan, the one that according to the mythology taught us the art of civilization. But for nothing… Maybe he was a perverse god, after all, because to give fire to humankind is not a wise gift, because now what we witness is the world in flames… Maybe we should act as the “primitive” people and turn to pleasure, visiting whores, living among them, and drinking, and playing music, singing, and dancing. Carelessly. Then, to die young…Now I understand why Jesus was called “the friend of sinners”. And he died young. This world is full of nothing, apparently. But I suspect that there is much more. I still remember well that day when I had a strange feeling that an accident would happen the way I imagined a few seconds before. And it did happen! How was that possible?… Some claim that life without God is absurd, but the children in Syria killed by poisonous gases in vain waited for God, in all their innocence. What I see now reminds me Titanic, the movie. We are the poor guys in the lower compartments and running way to save their lives while the rich are still listening the violins, unaware of the incoming tragedy. “So, God! Where are you? What can reassure us, me, that You are not just an invention of ours?!…” Is it true? Is God just another invention of ours?!… Please, don’t make me die expecting to see Your face.

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