Monday, February 1, 2010
"It was the best of times . . ."
Oh sweet Jesus, I can see the shelves. The snow is gone, the trees and gates and street lights vanished. No more merry carollers silently singing their hearts out. The butcher, the baker, the candle stick maker, and the haberdasher have all been packed away. All along the horizon of the shelves and cabinets, for as long as the eye can see, there is no church or steeple, no palace or theater. No mills, no towns, not a cottage in sight. All is clear. There is a God.