Precious Memories

 

Ah… the warmth of her hand beneath her pillow -

the irresistible softness of her body next to mine -

the enchanting fragrance of her hair which captivates me

as I lightly kiss her behind her sleeping ear -

these things are among the most precious of my memories.

These things are among the most alluring baits

and toxic poisons which drag men down

from their celestial investigations and celebrations

to the terrestrial acceptations and routinizations.

The lure of a woman is the downfall of a man.

Twere there a perfect God in heaven,

He’d not have created woman.

She is evil.  She is not of God.

She is a hindrance, and she is a necessity,

for without woman, there’d be no man.

Without woman, there’d be no need of God,

nor would there be a universe for man to revere.

But… twere there a universe with man and without woman,

this would provide unquestionable evidence of God’s existence.

It would also prove God not to be perfect,

but instead… cruel and evil, for such a

universe would be too cold and dreary a place

for man to consider wondrous, and such a

universe would devoid man of the warmth

of precious memories for all eternity.

 

November 19, 1987

 

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