I see now why you call yourself vampire. You are in love with pain and with a complaint against the universe, against God, maybe.
Innocence is beautiful. But it is only something one owns by degree, or else by gift.
Children are not born innocent, if by innocent we mean free of the virus which destroys the earth. They are born with the virus.
We must fight with ourselves to work out what we think about inheriting a virus. But obviously the story of the Tree of Knowledge explains all of this.
There is not really ever a single island of a woman or man. They are always the child of, the child of, the child of, begat by whom. . .
God is kind, for He created us. Is kind for He created all we’ve ever enjoyed — for surely your life has not been only falling — their have been pauses to enjoy a drink of this, and embrace of that. He is kind because he sustains our breath and delays judgment, that we might actually be invited back to that from which our entire race was exiled.
Only his perspective is forever, backward and forward. Ours is the perspective our decades of thinking on life, and trying to survive it.
Whatever innocence there is in us — that is the Spark of his Majestic Love and Patience and Gentleness and Tenderness. Do not assume that a judge or a warrior can not be tender, for we know that in moments they are. We are not defined by our one season or act, but by all of them. And God is full of many acts.