Let me preface this post by saying that my life has seen some changes recently. This post, and in truth most of my posts often hold bits of myself within, though perhaps not in ways that might be immediately clear to others. I hope you enjoy the entry and I’ll try to stay more consistent with my posts as time allows.
Humble looked down at the child. The child looked through Humble. A single, quiet sob escaped from Humble’s lips. Would that he could save everyone. But alas, he was only one man. One exemplary, powerful man, but one man nonetheless. For this child, all of Humble’s power was for naught. He had arrived too late. The spark of life was gone.
Humble took the child in his arms, brushed away the trash and dirt that had accumulated around the child’s body. The child’s eyes stared up, accusingly empty. While you fight your demons, others suffer, the child’s eyes seemed to say. Where is the justice in this? The eyes lashed fire through Humble, yet stir they did not. Humble took a deep, steadying breath. As he did so, he brushed back some of the hair from the child’s forehead. Thinking long and hard, Humble finally spoke.
“It easy to get lost in the world. Hold out your open hand and imagine that all you know, all that you are is held within that outstretched hand. Now close that hand into a fist. Clench it tight, until the color drains from your fingers and the bite of your fingernails hurts your palm. Do you notice something? The harder you clench, the more pain you feel. And the less you’re able to hold.”
The sound of Humble’s voice rumbled like slow thunder down the alley where he and the child sat. The stones of the buildings around them stood like silent spectators to this macabre conversation. Humble pressed on, hoping to find answers to his own questions as he spoke.
“When we lament about how busy our days are, it is because we feel the time allotted to us slipping away. Humanity is given a finite number of days. That is why we rage against the little things that conspire to steal our time from us. Precious is every moment, and few indeed are the ones we spend doing exactly as we wish.”
The child’s eyes gazed up through Humble, into the heavens. Is there really nothing more to life than struggle, the eyes seemed to ask. Humble followed the child’s eyes and looked up to the heavens as well.
“I find that it is seldom rewarding to look to the heavens for answers. The heavens hold more questions than answers, as is always the case when we struggle to touch infinity.”
Humble looked down at the child. A moment of confusion swirled around Humble. The child’s eyes were closed, yet he could not recall closing the child’s eyes. The child’s voice echoed in Humble’s head. But aren’t you from the heavens? Don’t you know where we come from? Humble bowed his head, and something very close to despair settled on his features.
“Have you never wondered why God would want to create? We are the answer to a question, a question posed by power beyond human comprehension. What happens when God strives for more than what was? We are the answer, child.”
A faint, peaceful smile seemed to grace the corner of the child’s lips. We are the answer to God’s questions. And we are full of questions and answers of our own. Yes, I can appreciate the idea that we are each an answer to each other’s questions. I have only one more question. Humble stood, lifting the child’s body in his arms as he did so. He then lowered his arms, but the child’s body remained suspended in the air.
“Ask your question, child.”
Do you know why we have to die?
Humble took a deep breath, but could only shake his head in the negative.
A warm golden glow suffused the child’s body. That’s okay, friend. I’ll go and find my own answers now.” When the glow faded, the child was gone, and Humble was left alone with his own thoughts.
When he finally left the alley, he was whistling a sad, sweet tune.
