Vol. 22, No. 5,514 - The American Reporter - September 7, 2016



by Joe Shea
American Reporter Correspondent
Hollywood, Calif.
October 23, 2002
A Meditation
IN A STRANGE AND SOMBER CAPITOL, A SNIPER WAITS

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HOLLYWOOD -- The woods are trembling tonight, the leaves in a shiver and the birds choked silent while a killer stalks a strange and somber capitol to right a terrible mistake. Once again "X" marks the spot as the toll hits 10. The night of Michaelmas is past, a stolen horse returns, and in the waiting silence as a mark is about to cross the sights of a sniper's rifle, its bore on this eleventh victim, it may be time to stop. Or maybe not; just ahead is the darkest evening of the year, and perhaps more of the unknown God who is Death. Do not fold, spindle or mutilate - oops, too late.

The challenge to a technical society is to understand itself while it presumes to understand everything else. It is to make its own identity real, to cast away its radical lies for a radical truth,to admit error and to correct tragic failures of a super-sized system. Those are precisely the most difficult things to do, and they require a certain stopping, a certain self-awareness, a certain awareness of the imminent that will energize and concentrate the mind, as Mark Twain said, to achieve whatever can be before Death strikes home.

To be a target is to live in a heightened sense of awareness, keen to all laments. Thus it is also to hear, through the vast noise of our chaotic, frenetic, hopelessly swift and unguided arrow of a culture, the single voice, and with hearing, dare we hope, to at last understand. With understanding can come a payment, a resolution, for all the folded, spindled and mutilated souls a culture in its frenetic waste has senselessly destroyed. Michael, the fallen angel, the flower of evil and the force of Death, demands his.

I have heard him coming for 20 years. His thoughts have been my own. I have heard his footsteps as he ran past my house, in other woods, in other states. His bullet and his blade have whizzed past my left ear. I have heard his name in my dreams and I have read his strange tale on the Internet. He is a survivor of Heaven's Gate, as I am not. He took the trip to Space and I stayed behind.

He has thought a thousand times of me. I am thinking of Him.

Copyright 2016 Joe Shea The American Reporter. All Rights Reserved.

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