If I died today, I would be ashamed. Assured that my God would forgive me for the troubles I created. Approaching the lovely gates in awe as the accused, and, the accuser points his red fingers at me.
"He!" would he scream. "He is the child of yours that has disobeyed! That has lied! That has cheated his way! He! The uncanny soul that has drought of selfishness and not one ounce of pure honesty has dripped from his lips! He!" I would stand accused. My eyes large. Beckoning in trembling patience as the accuser jabs his crooked fingers at me. My body would be no more. Only a airy soul. And on some grand throne of which gold was born and pearl was inspired, the white-bearded judge. A smirk on his lips, eyes brows fashioned into a questionable state. He listens to the accuser, as he has listened time and time again, he listens to the red fingered hand, he listens to my trembling, he listens nothing between it all - and hears every thing. "He!" I stand. "He!" I shake. "He!" I stumble.
"He!" I interrupt.. "Have I not loved? Have I not toiled with hearts in the absence of emotion? There I found not love, but nothing. And that was all I found. Nothing was there when there wasn't love! I felt nothing.. But before then, before the passions of sin and the dangers of passion were invoked into me, was I not ignorant and loving? Did I not care with the tenderness of a man? I grew into a boy! And here, I stand, accused! I felt nothing when she was taken away!"
"STOP!" calls the judge.
"This has gone on long enough. You, son, were given only circumstance. Never coincidence. That is why you are here now. Not by coincidence, but because of circumstance. Do you know why you're here?"
My blank face sweeps into a puzzled stare.
"You, son, are here because everybody comes here. You are not the only one. You are not alone. Everyone must fall. You, son, have fallen no harder than I."
"Than any! We all suffer the same pain. We are tormented only by ourselves. You have been accused before, young man. You have been your biggest accuser, thus far! He..!" The judge points to the red fingered man,"He has accused you no more than you have accused yourself. Less, in fact. For you had to live in that body, on that rock. It is true, you are selfish. But, necessarily so. As a fish is selfish to eat another. As the ocean is selfish to the desert. You, young man, were merely irresponsible. ..and doubtful. You're doubt clouded your judgement, plagued your well being. Fear! Fear was your demon! Fear haunted you, caressed you, distressed you, and turned you to turmoil. It is true, I assigned fear to you. And, at times, you fought with courage. You held your head high with tears in your eyes. And at others you folded. Defeated."
The red fingered man sighed.
"Boy" said the judge "I am not your judge. I am your conciseness. I've spoken to you many times and many times you did not listen. In the end, you learned the ultimate lesson in the only way that your circumstance would allow."
A silence lingered.
"Boy" refrained the judge. "I will let you live. And you will live happily if you allow yourself to be so."
"But he!!" started the red fingered man.
"Silence!" The judge boomed. "The boy has learned but one lesson. He shall return to his Earth and he shall remain.. ..until he has learned his final lesson or until he is no longer fallible. If you continue to make mistakes, and you will make a few, you are to return here and we will continue this case and rest on a decision. Is that understood, boy?"
"Yes.. yes, sir."
"Then be gone. You will awake and you will continue your work. Goodbye"
A brilliant light shone from the judges throne and at once all was white. The boy aroused from his sleep. The morning was dark and pure. Red lights indicated the time: it was 4:42am. He felt as though he had slept for 100 nights. He was relieved to be in his bed. A nervous calm crept up his spine. He soothed his aching body with his hand and discovered a scar that had not been there before atop his head.
We could of have a house
a place to call our own
you would be in the living room
I would be in the bedroom
Every day, I would serenade you with noise
and you would get annoyed.
Soon I would join you
and feel you warmly in my arms
your hair would sleep on my chest
my chin perched on your skull.
This gentle embrace could last forever
to the soundtrack of my noisy serenade.
We might have had a dog
and named him some incredible name
a husky or a terrier
lazy and untrained.
He'd lick our noses
no matter where we've been
no matter what we've done.
He would have been our first child
a hairy son.
We would have moments in the kitchen
lingering around the fridge
microwaving many dinners
until romance inspired a home cooked meal.
Some wild soup with corn and beef
paper thin cornbread.
A metaphor for casserole
passed down by many of your Mothers.
I would take your hand, dear
and stir myself in with your recipe.
Laughing in the oven.