Phoenix

In the wake of unfortunate circumstances, I find myself rising from the seemingly smitten pile of ashes known as slothfulness. In this state I cried in pity for myself, not realizing all the while that this pile of ashes was in fact my contemptible pride, having gotten broken, smashed down, down into a million pieces, resembling this pile of ash and dust. I remembered that this pile is what I came from, and without God, I am nothing but ash. In fact, without the divine, I am nothing. I cannot exist apart from some intervention of God in my life, the upholder of all things, sustainer of life. No, not one element of this universe, not one chemical bonding occurs without the sustenance of the divine, I am convinced. This is what I believe, so must you also (prescriptivism at its worst). Goodbye.