Supporting a sacrilegious sanctuary, scientific society, and solace for Southern secularists.

There are those moments of quiet reflection that descend upon us all. A leaden shroud forged in a moment of revelation as the burdens of our world sit upon our shoulders. A brief realization of the incomprehensible vastness of the wicked and the good, and a inkling of the truth of our own insignificance can combine into the dull phantom of melancholy that haunts us all from time to time. As we stare ponderously at the mundane all around us, during such moments it seems as if we are awake while others around us continue to plod through immune to your troubles so that you become a private atlas bearing your world upon your shoulders. You almost whisper or you almost shout to them, but your voice is stymied by your own compassion. They are blissful naive faces passing through a hazy reality. Why take that bliss from them. And you know that this moment cannot last. You know that you will return to the comforting familiarity of daily life and the gravity pulling you down will slide off as easily as silk from your shoulders. So we do not call for help. Would they even understand? Many have had such moments. But they, like we all do, let them fade away in silence as if refusing to acknowledge them will somehow make the cold truth less stark. We bear our burden alone, and hope that tomorrow we will have forgotten such a powerful truth. For who wants to be sober in a world drunk on life? And so on it goes, pain unshared, truth unrevealed, and all the while the fiddle plays...