Being of many parts these shifted with at times unfortunate consequences. Aware of this and a perhaps unavoidable lack of control over the flickering show, the jostle, he attempted to envisage what resolve he could make and found none both specific and acceptable. Remain he must with unspecific resolutions, acceptable in their flexibility. Whim. This arrangement like all other arrangements suffered as suffer it must to be undermined eroded worn away destroyed. Finality lurked among the uncertainties preparing to appear as an event of disappearance. Result, absolute uncertainty. Call that the achievement of a lifetime. Piss and shit. He tried to rouse himself. Was it becoming increasingly more difficult? He wondered, yet made the effort. There was after all no one to complain to, no one truly responsible, nothing worth addressing himself to except perhaps himself. His attitude on that point he suspected was clear, as an object of attention a target of explanation he would always be a surrogate. A relationship with god the father he been prepared for. Unfortunately an unresolved failure. If not god, the father then. Looked in vain for tangible and effective gifts of power. Weapons of resolve. Other possibility, gifts of failure. That confused him beyond words. The misguided, their journey in ignorance. Perhaps confusion at the unexpected destination. An incompatibility between responsibility and intentionally leading astray. Safe responsibility in good leading good to safety. Why was I not led to safety? No good, didn’t want to go. No safety is certain. Fear of force, resentment of safe prison. In my ignorance I was stronger. Somewhere here the gift of failure. Unintentional, just that, gift of freedom to fail. In that just like their god. Wash hands.