How sad I am. How sad this violation of the existential given and Matthew's song — another debt of this indecent century — what is to be said about this hideous traffic in religion that has taught blasphemy for centuries against Jews, blacks, aboriginals, women, Gypsies, and homosexuals everywhere. 'They' put on Jesus-shoes. He never wore them. 'Their' sacrifices to hate and hell. There is no more to be said about God, except the infinite exposure of our finitude that 'they' have taught. Love arrives as a promise. Every particular love is Love, dear Matthew. How love shatters when they stopped your song — the shatters in which we trust. Yes, the philosopher said: The glorious body cannot but be the mortal body itself. What changes are not the things but their limits. It is as if there hovered over them something like a halo, a glory. Dear Matthew.
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