I double bunk with this brain dead moron, and because that trusting gullible moron that splits a suite with me cannot be trusted, I usually do not allow him to speak, and that is a mistake. So therefore I thought that I would attempt to put my feelings into a few words of my own, and then do a much better job by quoting from the Song of Solomon, since there is no point in reinventing the wheel, and that Song is so much better than anything I think I could ever write. For the purposes of this piece, I will address Sean, but really I feel that way about all those guys.
Oh, Sean, my little lamb, my darling, my love, my little dove (with a broken wing). Oh for so very long I have stood along on the side of the mountain and watched my lambs march off towards the horizon, where the smoke of destruction rises up in columns, and where all lambs go as they march through this life. Ahead on the road you can see the column of smoke rising, and you know that this is where you must go someday, into the flames of that destructive inferno and then off into the blackness of eternal endless nonexistence and the perpetual stillness of endless silence and eternally lasting darkness.
How my heart ached, and still does, over the ruinous destruction of my flock. They are now like sheep who wander and no shepherd can gather them. Many shepherds have scattered my flock.
When I returned from the Mountain of Paradise I did not then live a life full of joy and gladness. I did not open bottles of wine, and I did not feast upon banquet tables covered with the choicest fruits. I do not feast alone, and all my little lambs were gone, they were scattered and were found wandering. I called for them, but they did not respond.
Oh, my little lambs, my loves, for now I will have to let you go and allow you continue your march toward the horizon and the towering column smoke which you know awaits you someday. But while you march, you will hear my song. Perhaps my little lambs will respond someday to the lyrics of my love song.
Come home little lambs, to the Mountain of Paradise, to the Garden of God, to the banquet and to the joy and celebration that is to come, yes it is coming, someday it must come, my little ones, my darlings, the love of my heart and the aching longing of my soul.
