In the Garden…

In Gethsemane: Transcripts of a Journey www.amazon.co.in

The rays of a setting sun cast an orange glow on the trees. Twilight will soon follow amidst the chorus of birds returning to roost. Then the choir of crickets will take over to serenade the shadows ready to stalk the night.

A lone figure watches an army of ants rushing home through the crevices of a rock he rests against.  And from under the tree of life a forked tongue tastes the air while two glowing eyes gaze at him… contemplating the futility of Life.

It is the night of shadows when evil comes forth to feed on the dark side of humanity.

And when he turns to walk away he trips and falls hitting his head on the ground. The earth is cool and comforting as he lies there looking at the stars. He feels no pain but only sadness in his heart.

It is not long before the sound of drums is heard … approaching to the hysterical shouts of those seeking revenge. And as they draw near he slowly gets up. Terror is in his heart and tears in his eyes. He wants to run away, away from all the coming violence but he can’t move. It is as if the earth itself holds him up and refuses to let him go for he must feel the pain, again.

Every year at this time history repeats itself, regurgitating the horrors of living and the ecstasy of dying. He will be whipped, yet again. And he will bleed yet again to the prayers of the faithful and the hymns of the meek. And then, when all is done, nails will be driven into him and a spear thrust in his side before the genuflecting faithful chanting the litany of faith.

…And all this is for love.

Nothing is what it seems, and what it seems is nothing.

© Mark Ulyseas, August 24,2010

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