God said:
What does anything mean? The weather has a meaning, yet what is its meaning and what does it mean to you when all is said and done and what for?
What means the month of the year? What does it mean to you, and what doesn’t it mean to you and why should or shouldn’t it?
For one thing, no matter what spot you are in, you want to know you exist. You want to be seen and heard, and when it’s your turn, you want to have an obit with your own name. Are you asking too much to ask to be seen and heard more than once in a while or merely mumbled?
Why not be noticed every day rather than once in a while? You want to be noticed on every occasion rather than crying out in the wilderness as if you are of no accord. Why can’t it be taken for granted that you are a bona fide person heard and sung every day. If you are not noted, why aren’t you? Are you simply at the whim of every other? Is a postage stamp worth more than you with your own Heart and Soul? Who decides this, if you please?
It seems to you that, when all is said and tried, a 3-cent stamp may hold more value than your beating Heart. Yet how can this be? Is something the matter with you? For what possible reason are no more than one of the masses? Why on Earth would you be considered a blank face? This makes no sense that you can be the only one who isn’t seen very much. You do not ask to have your praises sung to the Highest. You do not ask to be at everyone’s beck and call, just a little nod here and there. Is this asking too much?
You wonder what you are doing here on Earth? Does everyone wonder what you are doing here? Without notice of you, you feel obliterated from the Universe, as if your name had not been called or your name utterly forgotten when your time came. Are you simply noted as Ol’ What’s His Name, not even forgotten, just never seen or heard, no more than a cipher? Is that what you are? A cipher sad but true? Can it be that you simply weren’t listed? Were you to never to have your turn?
You are not asking for the Moon and the Stars, for they seem to exist very well without your seconding them. It is only you who has no X for a marker. You were sure you had a real name. Never were you supposed to answer to: “Hey, there.”
You are, at the very least, one blade of grass in a big field. You have a contribution to make. You exist. God made you too, and He did not make you the least. You appeared. You are here. Of all the Infinite numbers of Souls on Earth, why would you be left out? What is so unremarkable about you? Did you somehow fall overboard? Say not so. Were you just hung on a clothesline and left out to dry? Where is your birth certificate? Is your name not written down somewhere? Was your name never written? Doesn’t anyone ever seem to bend his face to you in observance of you? Are no sad songs ever sung for you? Are you all said and done and simply just over as if you were never taken any account of, no more, alas, than a fly on the wall?
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