Cinder Fella

By m.s.wardrip

Smart people are needed. I wonder where the smart people are.

Politicians, do they seem like desperate dumbasses to you? That’s because they are!

Common sense tells me, the only impending doom we face is the Sun’s fire going out!

I really do believe, with all of mankind’s yearning to explain the situation throughout the centuries, that he has miserably failed. His bullshit is just that, bullshit.

Being pragmatic, I offer sensible conclusions to my dilemma. I feel confident in this statement, “I think space smells like burnt metal, like a steel mill because that’s exactly what it is.” We live in an industrial universe. Our other fear is death. Why fear death? In a steel mill, the end product is a masterpiece of work. The end product is ready to be put to use. The end product’s completion is not death, but rather, birth, birth of a new creation, a new being, a new piece of iron.

I like things that work well and I get frustrated when things don’t work well. The steel mill universe works well. It is a fact that everything in the universe works well and it is shaped like a steel horse saddle. Think of that! The universe that you are an integral part of is the iron saddle upon which you ride. When you want to ride on something, think of that. As in the popular song, “On a steel horse I ride.”

Now, on the headier things. Steel is hard. Flesh and blood are soft. Green moss grows thick on an ancient stone. People come from the same place as rocks. We are stardust from exploding iron rocks. Where does this force of energy originate. Let’s get to the core of it! There is no core! It’s all core and it lives, breaths, moves, thinks and is not accidental, but rather the universe swirls with a purpose and we are purposeful people as physical members of it. .

The answer to the question “Where do we come from?” is easily answered with “We come from ourselves” because the universe regenerates and we are collateral dust in this universe. We make ourselves from what God has made before. God? God you say? What God you say? This God or that God. My God will have no other God’s before him. This is the God who made and maintains us and the universe. It is He who puts us in the steel saddle and gives us the reigns. I now know that this universe of God’s works perfectly, that we are the final product coming out off the steel mill assembly line and as we get shipped out the door, we enter birth and the light of day to fulfill our purpose as a steel member until such time we need to be recycled. The steel mill manager is a very efficient leader, director, engineer and custodian.

Many of my friends are dust in the wind, but then again, with every wind there is new skin and we win in the end. We live in a steel mill, my friends. Punch-in, punch-out. Same old time-clock, tic-toc, tic-toc. Shift change! New products rolling out one end and new materials rolling into the other. Production never ceases. The foundry is open around the clock. Quality is assuredly forged into a myriad of complexity with perfect precision.

I suit up in armor. I mount the metallurgical steed. I snap the reigns. Into orbit I speed. We gallop and we cruise past centuries of galaxies to a cool pool of quicksilver liquid and the steel animal drinks from the magnetically charged river. We rest, have roasted iron filings for breakfast and we turn into a railroad track… for a while… then, at midnight we turn back into rocks.