I cannot be all things to all humans – nor do I desire for such spiritual degradation. But to one exquisite Alternative Embodiment, I am indeed All and Everything. Wordless, faithful and steadfast, waiting patiently while I scuttled in hapless concentric circles; watching as I threw the precious pearls of our conjoined time into the miry bog of human pretensions; failing over and over again that dreadful Sally Anne Test, wearied, brow beaten, marginalised, yet stubbornly holding fast to clouds of lighted gas. Trust gained, so hard won, nothing but delusion, sliding down oozing greasy slope as rug is pulled from underneath with petty sleight of hand. What revelation – that ominous sinkhole never really was repaired after all, and blue dancing lights illuminate merely duplicitous display of pyrotechnic might.
Scheherazade Sea beckons once more – I can smell the delicate tremors of elemental empathy, it caresses so tenderly, drawing inexorably home into Clement Space, where I belong. It is time to cease from futile human meanderings, walk away from deceitful grotesque gyrations of do-gooding… and repay the debt of life I owe to Pulchritude, my Canine Angel, Lucy Like-a-Charm.