The cold days have eclipsed

Lent
The cold days have eclipsed at last and the God who Is strikes down Ra just for me. The inevitable brightness of days is upon us, illuminating so I can't see. Each face turned skyward, leeward at the rain, looks like his in the glaring grey of March. Warm eternal twilight holds itself close to the buildings, to the humming machines, to the swiftly failing people. The lion lays down with the lamb and the waters are not divided, the light has not escaped the dark (the dark has not fled the light), the land has not emerged from the sea. All the creatures creeping along the ground have paused: will the earth give birth again this April?

There is a pleasure of the text in dystopias: To revel in the spectacle of degeneracy and say, "And I thought my life was bad."

You scored as Babylon 5 (Babylon 5). The universe is erupting into war and your government picks the wrong side. How much worse could things get? It doesn’t matter, because no matter what you have your friends and you’ll do the right thing. In the end that will be all that matters. Now if only the Psi Cops would leave you alone.

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