Faith – drunken faith.
Drinking, waiting for the revelation. Because it’s there, ahead of us, on the other side of our drunken nights. It’s there, apocalyptic, at the end of our nights. And that’s what we’re waiting for. That’s what we Want, capital W. We know it. We taste it. It’s in the air – the drunken air. It’s what we want to draw closer.
Certainty. Truth. The truth you reach by way of drinking. The truth that makes you drink, that draws you to it. Let it come: the drunken truth. Let it be close: our drunken certainty.
We drink – and reach by drinking. We drink and reach beyond this terrible world.
Until the absence of love becomes our loving itself. Until our loss becomes what we’ve found.
We know how wretched we are. And we know that God loves wretches – even us.
Which is why we become solemn in our drinking. Which is why we become Serious – grandly serious. Which is why we look upwards, silently, expectantly …
This is our journey to the end of night. This is our night voyage. This is our night ride to sunset.
Soon, it will come. Soon, the messiah will come – the messiah of drinking. Soon, each of us will become the messiah, saving the world in our own way.
We’re not lost, after all. Or our lostness was a way of seeking. Of finding.
Work in Progress 