doctors have come from distant cities just to see me stand over my bed disbelieving what they're seeing they say I must be one of the wonders of god's own creation and as far as they can see they can offer no explanation

have I been blind have I been lost inside myself and my own mind hypnotized mesmerized by what my eyes have seen?

newspapers ask intimate questions want confessions they reach into my head to steal the glory of my story

I've walked these streets in the mad house asylum they can be where a wild eyed misfit prophet on a traffic island stopped and he raved of saving me

I do not care what face other ages and other people have given to the enormous, faceless essence. They have crammed it with human virtues, with rewards and pun…

Wir sein pettler. Hoc est verum.

That God of the clergymen, He is for me as dead as a doornail. But am I an atheist for all that? The clergymen consider me as such - be it so; but I love, and …