Thursday, November 18, 2004



What is hope? A dream? Itry but eveytime I see a spark of it, it gets blown away. How long will the locusts devour? How vast are their numbers? My hope is but a mustard seed. They threaten to eat even that. Without hope how can a man be a man? What is life without hope?

I feel quite, umm, discouraged. I feel beaten like my ancestors. Beaten, whipped, spat upon, despised without regard for who I am or will be. I feel as if a thousand raging bull are trampling over me.

Each day that passes I understand more of how Cain must have felt, roaming the earth, yeilding no crops no matter how hard he worked. An object of mercy and wrath. Yet, even Cain found a wife and built a city.

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