Wednesday, July 14, 2010

Sunday, March 21, 2010


On a terrestrial plane, there is a hole the size of man's sins. It reaches as deep as a tax collector's purse, and the arms of Pharisees can not pull it closed. It is only by the grace of Christ and His Father that it's expansion ceased. There is darkness in the hole, but light enters through cracks in the blinds to remind them. Covering the window to the sun are trees. Every lie man told and tells plants a seed and each thought of malice and contempt waters the soil. Life for those within the walls consists of little contemplation and little peace. There are trees and there is stone; rough and ridged stone which serves as a table for their scarce meals, a court for their bitter songs, and a lying place for their bruised heads. Children are the few to climb the trees and reach for the white warmth overhead. Each day, the youth climb one branch higher toward the surface and dream only of the next day where they will step higher still. The men and women call them fools for trying to see for it is written such things as the surface is barren, the self is righteous, and Love is fabled. The elders sigh at the reckless speech they spoke which stretched the trees taller and the written things truer. The elders now stare at the leaves above and wish for the strength to hang on to the branch for which they reach and the life to which they cling. A day comes to most children where they cease to reach. Curiosity turns to comfort and all that is familiar teaches them to be still; ever still and resolved by the sight of the seen.

One girl does not. There was a day where the Men and Women called for her and the children made their way down, but she would not stop going up. She goes up each day and though Hate's reign feeds the trees and they rise because of it, she grasps the next branch, admires the leaves and twisted bark, and pulls herself higher. The sun's beams grow warmer and more clarity comes with the light. She is tired and heavy laden that she is alone, but only the sun will stop her.

She will reach the surface and see the sky with its birds, the seas with its life, and the hills in glorious light. But she will weep; she will weep at the sight of thousands crawling down into the hole that she and her ancestors made. She will stand at the threshold in tears, begging that they do not enter the place. But, they are curious and they will climb down. She will be the old one sitting in a rocking chair looking out the window into the world. She will see a room full of hate and plead that they cease. "You do not need to do this. Will you not trust my judgement?" she will ask.

"No, I must live this life to its fullest and drink of it's pleasures while they still are. I must care for myself, and I will be with them. For it is written, 'The surface is barren, the self is righteous, and Love is fabled.'"