Fatalism and Facts

Buttercup was drunk, slouching and looking up at me with her baby blue, the other eye behind a black patch. Not once has she whimpered or wailed, not even so much as a “why me?” ‘She’s strong, stronger than I would be,’ I thought.
“I’m strong, stronger than you would be. That’s why it’s me.” I looked, pierced through, searching for truth.
“I know,” I relpied. “You tell me what you want.” Ordinary concerns drifted away and came back to mind like the turbid surf on Huron.
“You tell me babe,” I repeated. In the silence between everything else seemed small – my constant repositioning, my struggle, my escapades with girls, my complaints. There, instead, was the vast expanse and the storms as they form and blow across the open water.
“I’ll do what you ask.” Meaning it, knowing full well that in full health she’d be off without hesitation with occasional distant calls from distant places, travelling with the full force of youth. I don’t care about that so much now. What is changes what was. What is changes what will be. I thanked God but why now? Why this trick? The constant presence and thought of God. ‘Are you going mad?’ ‘I’m not mad, I’m just searching baby’, I reply to myself. ‘Searching for what?’ I answer, ‘For an expression and connection. The full extent of experience, the type I’ve been discontented with in just word or just deeds. I’ve called it art. But why ‘God’, it seems so sad or so programmed. A distinction to a method of real knowledge – the scientific method. A science of some sort. A repose to these feelings or distractions.’ “Yes,” I reply audibly, “distractions.” My brow knits.
Silence.
The questions come in droves.
‘You require distance, silence, time’, comes the answer. ‘And this is for you, not for others. Your questions will lure others to failure.’
‘My questions will lure myself to success of some kind. I just don’t see the full path yet.’
At that moment I knew doubt was gone. It takes such great art to clarify. It takes such a life.
I looked over and watched Buttercup’s wrist, watched the vein pulse a healthy rhythm. She was asleep.