Faith the final journey of one’s life. Exploring wheels of spirituality and faith to use as place settings to grace the tables before us. Misty images, white sheets of faith swirling rings around the outer rims of your pupils. Always searching for the Parallax, translucent dimensions that always seem to be passing to the right side of our Temples. Searching the heavens for the Lost chord of Atualycus to feed our stomachs, bread and wine, to digest place settings for our table. Of the Temple with five colonnades that sit in the center of the city. To prepare us for the arduous journeys arching into the nether world for eternity.
We walk out into the city looking at all the merchants that sell their goods to all in the market place. So many enticing smells and aromas. Clothes of pastel colors, silks from the orient, oils from the Middle east, exotic foods ferried on the backs of autolycus animals some horned and some not. Caravans stretching across time in the horizon that have traveled great distances to sell their wares. Merchants setting tables before you to sell their merchandise with great fervor and determination. Faith with the faces of men, eyes like rims of topaz and sapphires, crowns of gold and silver, holding staffs made of nunatua, mens faces of lions, with their servants and maidservants.
We are in the middle of the Bazaar between the Ephah of walls pressing on us. Merchants flaying marsyas meats with the sounds of the lyre, music and wisps of smoke bellowing into the atmosphere. Floating islands drifting below us. Like giant spinning wheels thousand of eyes like great neshers watching our every move. Tempting us with autolycus faiths of foods and wines to take home to set before our tables.
Eventually we reach out of one of the merchants of faith amongst the many faces that have drifted past our windows. We reached out to him out of a sense of frailty inviting a stranger to sit at our tables. We feasted on the opulence of his colorful clothes he wears. Listening to him speaking in tongues like the Sirens of Circe. Enticing all with lotus blossoms, herbs of moly, meats, cakes to eat, wine to drink. Listening to his ablutions tales of a man who rose up from the ground. Stood like a giant Anu tree for all to see. Later in life performing miracles of death magical defying feats of Autolycus efforts. Married the wives of his people and bare daughters to perform evil across his land.
Through all the hours of him making me feel good about myself. I never noticed the image of the nesher reflecting in his eyes. After awhile I turned my gaze to the single candle burning brightly on the table before my eyes. The more I looked at the candle, the noise of the merchant, his face becoming, a shadow and his image fading away. I realized who he was talking about. A god that comes to you like a chameleon having different names but the same narratives, through me,” I will raise you from the dead”. Giving you lotus blossoms, herbs of moly, meats, cakes to eat, wine to drink and you will feel good about yourself. All you have to do is baptize yourself with ablutions and sacrifices give me your money, your soul. Your life will become a rollercoaster ride of emotional responses like Pavlov’s dog never reaching the end.
I got up from the table one day and asked the Merchants to leave my house. As I watched him leave, from the windows of my towers. Below my eyes the cities, towns and people were in anguish never able to extinguish the flames of the Merchants and their tables that over the years that I like you had invited in our house our city our nation.
Parallax dimensions of faith that will never produce fruit. You’re looking through distorted lenses of images that are not of your nature. Like me, I had to return in an arch back to the past and take another look at that single candle burning on the table before my eyes and wonder why it burns for eternity within all of us.
I spend my days now in the Ephah between the two wheels spinning pressing on me. Tending to my garden, pulling out the weeds, the babble of words, and replacing them with new words and parables. Arriving at a singularity of faith that does not cost my soul. Casting away the myriads of ablutions and sacrifices I had been tending to the Gods instead of tending to myself. All the while looking for the author of that single flame.
For Me it is simple;
She Became Creation
of the Family
Peace and Quiet
Hell on Wheels