Last Man, Lost Man, Take Heed!

Between the deep valleys they called, voices rose from hearts to the (then!) reachable skies, the pristine lakes dotting their soul and the foaming rivers of ecstasy that fed them glistened by the divine light that was the holy response. 

Back then, hands raised to the clouds warranted a reply.

Back then, the innocuous naivety –that childish bliss!- 

Was all it took, for the grace of Gods.

And our inner fire painted crimson red the sky.

But what befell us? Are they, the old daemons too old now? Or are we polished nowadays, all-too-fit, all-too-smart? How we threw away the laughable toys that our ancestors fearfully revered! Laughing stock, merely laughing stock they are now. Look into the eyes of the “truest” believer of today and pose your question to him: “What think you of faith? Unyielding, unshaken faith?” Stuttering? Maybe you, too, grew too much ingrained with the worldly wit of today. “What is belief to you? Who is the crucified to you?” Do you answer with the boldness and certainty that was typical of your ancestors? Or is your god human-all-too-human now? 

Every time we do see the hand raised in prayer not so keen as it was today, the tongue in appraisal riddled with doubting words. We’ve seen the haughty towers fall, and among our anxieties, how we shuddered when the earth beneath us trembled! Many of us dispersed, skulked like terrorised animals of prey. Many clung to idols of false faces in panic. Many more, kept on chanting their ancient hymns as if the heavens have not been overturned, woe, as if our ground has not deeply, thoroughly been shattered. Camouflaging lizards are we! Woe! Lost sheep, ghost herdsmen… For sure the herdsmen are not coming back, sheep are not congregating again. We have not been thusly alone, never. Think you the pacifying shields will comfort you forever?

Cure, you ask? Medications, you seek? Anxious, heavy, gray, nihilistic? The warm bliss of divinity has for sure forsaken you. You, man, are alone. Do away with the muttering! Keep down the whimpering! Is your desperate lie not pathetic? Discover your will, build upon the ashes of our lost temple. Hearken, rise, where you go you shall not need consolations you will see.

Surely you are not a child anymore.