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O Dear, O Dear
He keeps popping into this blog but I disguise his identity and make no attempt to link his appearances. Over a course of three years- or something like- we (because he attends the Quaker meeting) have seen him devolve from eccentric to psychogeriatric. He craves help but refuses help. Self pity has eaten his brain. He still has his moments of lucidity- when he can discourse with apparent cheerfulness on renaissance art and politics- but mainly now he paces and mutters. "O dear, O dear". Most of us have heard his story by now but if if someone new comes by he'll corner them if he can and perform his ancient mariner act. We apologise to one another for going out of our way to avoid him....
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that part of the spirit
that is healthy when the body
disintegrates and the mind.
they keep coming back
so you are helping some how
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