Saturday, January 8, 2011

A Good Book

Two books. One a book of Fact, the other a book of Faith.  Two tribes. For one, knowledge is king, the other remains ignorant in the promise of bliss and wait for the fulfillment of prophesy.  Fact, fiction, each follower convinced their volume is Truth.

Soap box sermons to the blind, obedient servants all. “Now you have every spiritual gift you need as you eagerly wait His return. He will keep you strong up to the end. He will keep you free from all blame on the great day.”   Heads nod in smug agreement, for they shall be saved, hastened to the cloud and live in everlasting glory.  It is written. He waves the Good Book with passion in his heart, great confidence in his soul, "Now you have every spiritual gift you need as you wait for His return. He will keep you strong right up to the end, and He will keep you free from all blame!”  Yet blame was theirs in causing the inevitable.

Men of letters know their future and it lies not at the hand of God or in His book. Information must be shared. Proficiency is required, knowledge retained as legacy. Their fate lies in their own hands, not in the palm of the ethereal. Cognitive of their lot hastens preparations. Salvation will not serve them, substance shall.  They make haste with provisions and the secreting of tools. Precious resources are garnered along with books of Truth. Other prophets preach shallow, but intelligent men will be apprised.

Atoms are reduced to shadows. Life blown down like raging matchsticks. Dust lofts in violent thermals and absorbs incoming light. Enveloped in the dark, they seek illumination. Pre-tribulation Rapture for the Faithful. But it does not come.

Just as time gone past, disabled coexistence, draws lines where none should be and builds a fortress between them. One tribe rules by fear, the other liberates through knowledge. For it is written.

"What is it?"  asks the child. An ancient reads and thumbs singed pages with gnarled hands, tender as a lover.

"It's a Sea Turtle", Arm encircles the unrecalcetrant child.  Turn the page. " . . .and that?"
"It's an Octopus." 

Illustrations explained offer meaning and purpose. Words speak volumes, knowledge. They learn together, the survivor and the curious.
 " . . and that?"
"A sextant. Used by sailors long ago."  
The book connects the pre and post apocalyptic world, elucidates, informs. It is his prized possession.

Turn the page. Head fills with lexicon,syntax, nouns and verbs, participles past and present. Conjunctions swim as definitions twirl their Dervish dance. Turn the page, each offers hope and illumination in a world of frigid darkness and lost hope.

"What is it?" asks a child. Another ancient burns a book. Tearing pages in a rage. Sacrifice denied redemption. "It's fuel. Rubbish founded on fable and mythology."
"What was it?"
"A book of idioms and prophesies. False hope, blind Faith and disappointment."  Only ash ascends. He is left behind.
"What did it say?"
"We shall be  swept into the arms of God."


God vapourises hope of deliverance from Earth's sinking ship.
He remembers words spoken to flocks long roasted on the spit. More lambs to the slaughter.
  
"Watch therefore, and pray always that you may be counted worthy to escape all these things that will come to pass . . ." 
Hollow words from an empty book.

Abandoned, Faith gives in to Truth. His tribe is lost. No souls ferried to the cloud. Left to perish with the sinners. Belief destroyed as pages burn. No whistle or trumpet sounds. Isiaah's children stumble, blunder and all are broken in the coming.  No Rosh Hashanah, no salvation. No redemption for children of Zion.  It is they who have slumbered in the dark of ignorance.  All are left divided yet equalised by fear.

"I need a good book". Gold leafed Gideon turns to black and paper pulp to ember.

This is an entry for The Tenth Daughter of Memory "Websters p. 983"

5 comments:

  1. For many of us, knowledge trumps blind faith every time.

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  2. interesting. has quite a post apocolyptic feel

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  3. Those pages burn and who knows the true story?

    Hmmm Baino

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  4. I so very like the language you used here. The twisting of myth always fascinates me. -J

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