Jonah in the Machine

January 13th, 2019

I knowing the incalculability of all equations have questioned not enough of those who seek a sum to every question.
I do indeed now ride within the storm of industry on a ship which suffers for my passage.
They see me as a saint, annointed one and fair I may be as so one day — in deed I pray
But here (not now within the lull of sabbath day) I am an occult omen, one who hides beneath the deck of silence fearing that I may be cast into the brine, faithless, timid, cowering from God as all the sons of Adam are prone to do.
To these men I dare not scold or bicker: my mission’s not to them: I have only found myself upon their bark and in flight from the Almighty.
It is my task to leave stupefied & speechless the architects of Babel
For when their tower falls or they finally reach that plane eternal they will find a host so great and countless they will recant all their labor’s virtue and work on lowly land as their hands and backs were made to do.
I must return to land — this sailing ship is not for me — these salty waves are not for me.
And though there are many good men who haul the lines and guide to port the course of industry, the sea is most tempestuous and not for me.
God speed you emboldened sailors: may you reach your next port of call:
I have a land I must return to and it lies away from here.
Pray to your gods if it avails you; pray to mine if it comes upon you;
as for me I must brace myself and dive into the freezing sea.
I pray that I find life which God created to return me to home

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