Today, Saturday

The thoughtful and sober critique by Gunther Grass of the role of capital in the democractic republic of Germany (see the op-ed page of today's New York Times) should give us Americans pause to reflect on the direction of our own democracy, Bush. As I have intimated often in these pages, a government run according to the dictates of corporate lobbyists can no longer be counted a democracy. That said, I have to confess that I missed the news last night--which perhaps accounts for a different kind of entry today. Read on:

Today, Saturday

I found myself this morning standing
in meditation at the door of my own death.
It was open. I stood on the very threshold,
dazzled. Behind me, everything was darkness.
Before me, light. This was strange, I thought.
I would have expected it otherwise, but no.
Everything I knew in life was darkness.
It was the unknown that was light.
To step forward, into it, I would first
have to say goodbye to everything
with which I am familiar: to the objects
that surround me, to my unfinished work,
to those I love. To those I have not known
and yet have met with every day.
To those to whom I still feel animosity.
I would need to let them go, too.
There would be no opportunity to return.

I did not choose this morning to step forward,
into the light. I chose instead to stand
in quiet contemplation of what lies before,
what lies behind. A moment of silent ecstasy,
and peace. Knowing still that, when it comes,
in reality, in my life, the moment of my death
will not be of my choosing. Still, one way
or another, it will come. I will stand there,
on that threshold, and will take that step,
despite myself. Forward. Into the light.

That's better, no, Bush, than the usual rant? Thanks for listening.