thurgling

It comes at that time in the early morning when the throat clenches about the fist and a fast cry surges toward the stomach: "something is missing". I am meant for something great. What is self or greatness? I do not hesitate to abstain from speculation. What matters at the end of the day? How many men on this earth ate bread tonight? Has that percentage improved since yesterday? If not, what are our plans to change that? From the poorest child's access to bread, the whole spectrum becomes clear--

Suffering will always exist if we do not sacrifice. Christ died in vain.

glope

An inadequately funded urchin tottled toward the slow gaze of despair. Not glancing upward from its own steady march, the urchin bent forward and stumbled into the open arms of license.

laziness breeds

He's in there, lollygagging about, twiddling the old thumbs as he mocks me. I see him, in his wee chair, leaning back against his tiny gravity, reading his mini New York Times late edition and sipping a barely visible cup of Chai. It disgusts me. I've already planned the first speech: day one, hour one, minute one, second 25 (give him a moment with Mom before setting things down)

Listen up, Soldier. You've been selected for a special mission, because you're the best of the best of the best. Of the best. I hope you've enjoyed your R&R, because that's the last you'll see of it for the next 6,574 days. We've been keeping a close eye on you, and it's time to...

Anyways, the rest will come as a surprise to us all. For the moment, he and I both can take in a deep breath of awe.