Que dois-je faire maintenant?

And I am left alone again. I suppose it only makes sense for left and alone to be used in the same sentence. Nobody says that they are "left in company," they say that they "remain in company." You left me. And where do I remain? Alone. But truly, I do not remain alone. For if I were to remain alone, I would not have mentioned being left in the first place. Remaining = consistency. And no, I do not wade through cyclical, ever pouring, river-esque loneliness. I sink, swim, rise. And then ... I sink, and I swim, and I rise. I was wrong, my loneliness is somewhat cyclical. But it is not chronic. It is my clumsy attempt at climbing the ladder in God's workshop. I always picture the workshop as being unkempt and dusty. Perhaps the window of God's workshop is the window into my own soul? Up, and up, and up (I'm so high!) ... oh, time to go back down. You must now touch the floor with your feet. I climb down and stand upon the profound recognition of a weakened, and blemished humanity. I climb up, only to squint at the abstract, perfect, and supernatural God. It is a wearisome task to utter the word perfect. I have yet to witness perfection. If God is my witness (Romans 1:9), and God is perfect, than why haven't I witnessed perfection? The carapace of human knowledge is not enough to keep me safe. Well, what would I need to be kept safe from? I don't know, and that's my problem - the fear of the unknown. I shouldn't say that I don't know. It's a monger of sorts. I see a silhouette, but I don't know the figure in full. What scares us more, what we know or what we don't know? We are scared to discover things that we do not know, about things which we perceive to know, and are therefore worried that these discoveries will ruin aspects of that perception. Not only are we afraid that these discoveries will ruin aspects of that perception, but we are especially worried that they will completely erase the heart of that perception. Still waiting.