approaching perfection

i hate being told what to do.
i fear being wrong.
i'm no good in the presence of guys who fix cars.
this makes for some messed up shit.

at some point, everyone turns to something bigger than themselves.
call it what you want...i won't tell you it's God.

but it is.

but less like the zany god the south believes in... and more like the god Dylan speaks of.

i recently listened to the ocean roar.  consistently.  it never stops.  always making noise.  yet, at times, i felt as if it was becoming part of my silence.  the ocean will never stop creating sound.

when Jesus asks the disciples, "What do you want?" the answer isn't a clean house, cheaper rent, better food, smarter kids, more free time.  the question just hangs in time, haunting most americans who own practically everything their kid's kids will ever need or want.

lately, this question pings inside my soul.  it has found no sturdy foundation to build from.