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Saturday, April 15, 2006
~ 6:59 PM ~
"..I will be in a plane above you, where everyone think it is heaven, yet I may think it hell. Ironic, perhaps. Yet you shall find this poem on the wall hanging on the 'Heaven's Gate':
Can there be peace?
Halo among the brimstone
A magnificent hybrid
Rolling with a tone.
Leave not the ugly man
In his crowded solitude
Even though we mock
Perhaps the devil speaks of
Loneliness up there
A moth. A moth. A moth!
To a fire it doesn't care
On the break is happiness
On the move is suffering
Never had been worse to me.
None shall stay, the devil says
In the burning subterran
None will ever suffer again
Even if I must go away.
An appalling poem, signed off by the adversary. Yet such insults do not come unchallenged. To this the residents behind the gates have responded:
Please don't stop him
Let him pass
All that he has done
Till the end it doesn't stay
Over, I say
On my account, release him
No longer shall he bother us
So he walks on
Guilty of his sins, perhaps?
Then why does he bring that smile?
You will laugh at their ingenuity, yet cannot neglect a teenage boy who seems too young to be around here. He is different from the people here: He is not happy. Instead he looks lost, and is mumbling words. You close upon him and listen to him speak:
'Have you no mercy? A slight pity? Not reprimanding him. Without a physical presence. Entertaining in spiritual sense. In a freezing tense. Do not mock the unable. In a way, you are too. No, we are equal! Great we are, me and you."
Yet in his words you will find the most sense.
'Off to Nirvana!' You will tell him.
'Not so.' He replies.
Even then you will not believe.
Galloping.
Under the sun.
A while is all it will take
Resentment already soaks your heart
Deny your pain, you shall not
Suffering, that's all.
To that will your journey end. In this condemned plane."
---Page 169 of 200, "Book of Life"
