The illuminating light amidst darkness
Amidst darkness there was light, I was illuminated; I was saved.
…
It felt like, despite it being merely petty three months, he had despaired for years. The dying man was imposed against the fleeting life. Nothing remained, all withered. He dedicated himself to the small tasks, little missions of hope. He forced a smile upon his tragic face when passing every stranger. He laughed at every plausible occasion, whether a mediocre joke or the shameless self-deprecation. He appreciated and cultivated the two most precious flowers, albeit symbols they remained, depicting the fleeting and senseless life. It felt like the dying man ceased the task of the withering lily — unconditional obedience was the Lord's only command, and he followed through, even more, he found beauty in the withering life. Essentially he accepted the withering of earthly life and transposed himself onto the unwithered realm of the infinite.
A fortnight ago, that is, yesterday
He pleaded: ” Give me something that feels.” And one wholesome night, a fortnight ago, but actually yesterday, his prayers came to fruition.
There she sat, a beacon of light…and now surely he had met his match. No longer was he the dying man, he was God’s man. His service was once more required. Troubled, he hesitantly was swayed toward accepting such a demanding proposal; namely, giving his heart out once more, into the brutal, ritualistic, feminine, and cataclysmic chopping station, the open heart surgery table — yet, in magnificent contradiction, this was his favorite saloon. Perhaps he despairingly wanted to be carved up and fed to the beasts, once more, or perhaps her beauty, faultless demeanor, innocent courageousness, hidden empathy…was unmatched?
And now, like the world-class thief accompanied by a 118-carat diamond, she had managed to steal his heart. Or at least that was what one of the hopeless romantics hoped.
He sensed trouble, ‘trouble’ echoed through the stems of his innermost cells, but who really was the troublemaker, for surely if she was the light, he had to be the darkness? For why would He, the immaculate up and above all heavens, have connected two beautiful pillars of light? After all, all beauty must be torched, eventually, all things wither. And now he feared, more than ever, that he would fall in love once more.
He should stay away from puppy blue eyes...but unyielding and utmost ignorant is his bliss. He had met his match. The questions remained: was she about to carve him up for lunch or was this a tale of love, of new proportions...had the prayers of the hopeless romantic been heard?
O.K
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