An Ode To Livid Fathers

So I was born to adult life with a damaged money gene to provide with? To the incandescent rage of my father and to the consternation of my contemporaries! Excruciating!

So I am glad I got myself baptised with this faulty treasure. I say, 'treasure' because buried beside it was a prayer gene, much more valuable to me, which was dormant and healthy. It only needed to be activated so I could rely on it and depend on it. I just needed a faith.

I was lucky enough to have a 'useful', dynamic contrast of genes to shape and govern my life. It was certainly nothing to boast about. I just wanted to make the most of what I had inherited.

I still had to face and forgive the shock and bewilderment of livid fathers everywhere. I encountered them all around me via my schizophrenic eyesight. Forgiving myself took longer.

I made a conscious point of forgiving the, 'I'm sorry I can not help you', acquaintances and encounters who would fade in and out of the shadows. I did not want to be one of them.

These kind of spiritual efforts have also been a sort of thorny bitch to me. Yet I work my way through them without suicide. Even doctors and psychiatrists, the front line support for a faulty gene, had their private opinions about my approach, though they helped me scientifically.

And of course I love my wife, family and friends, a real bedrock environment to succeed with. They keep my roots alive and nourished. So I do not worry about the money-bitch that plagues me so much. The one everyone recognises and has to cope with.

Hopefully I have been careful enough with the resources available by contributing a living.

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