03-28-2013, 03:08 AM
The week after his second book was published, he slept off a long weekend
of drinking, and woke up Sunday night to start it all over again.
Monday morning, drunk and delirious with happiness,
he tenderly embraced a mound of blankets with a dog in its center,
mistaking it as his toddler daughter asleep in bed;
then rushed stumbling through the living room.
Something soft crushed under one of his violently loud footsteps,
and he heard the sound of something cracking and breaking.
One of his daughter’s dolls, he figured, and almost instantly forgot:
He’d buy her another, he thought later.
Outside, he got behind the wheel of his new, energy efficient auto,
white, and compact, with a small icon at the front of the hood,
depicting a straight-faced, apparently hermaphroditic white lion
with chrome brass balls, and a wide, glowing red anus.
He drove at his own drunken pace
to the office building the angels had given him exclusively for writing.
By noon, he had the first draft
of an introduction to his new novel.
He pressed “Save”, then he pressed “Send”.
After two hours of waiting,
the edited version was returned to him so he could begin again.
Feeling a little tired, but none the less excited,
he scanned the first page that read as follows:
Say you’re a devoutly religious person. You pray, you help others in the most genuine and humble manner. There have been moments and more than moments, days and weeks and months when the most horrible things imaginable to you appeared unavoidable; but you kept your faith, your genuine and helpful activities, your humble prayers; and things always came out fine, the disasters were all avoided. And your faith only grew stronger. One year, spring seemed to come early. There was a wedding in your family, and a birth; and all these things made the approaching Easter seem to be one most worthy of celebration. And that Easter morning, you wake up only minutes before the sunrise, but you can already feel its warmth, and the mounting energy of a pleasurable spring day. Then God speaks to you. He weighs down on you in His authority, and tells you that He doesn’t exist, and forbids you to believe in Him. You ask Him why He would say this to you now; and you get no answer. You suffer feelings you never experienced before, and are amazed that you’ve lived so long and never before even imagined such confused and unshaken levels of agony. By the time the sun is visible, and beaming straight onto you, as if you are the only person in the world that it’s currently shining on, but without a hint of questioning or concern in its shine; you find yourself beyond thoughts. And you say that it doesn’t make sense; how could this even make sense? what God has now demanded of you? And God says, “You make a claim in your heart to such faith. You attribute your faith in Me for your overcoming of adversities, and the loving gifts bestowed humbly by you on others, and the gifts of well-being and happiness afforded your friends and family and all that you love most. And the moment I cease to make sense, you cease to believe in Me?” Not knowing quite what to say, but overcome with both unbearable confusion and humble but passionate emotion for the Voice of your God, you tell Him, “But I do believe, I’ve always believed. And I wish to still believe, all my life, and then when I’m in Heaven with You and all those that I love and cherish in this life You’ve given me, and which I adore and thank You for every day and night of my life!” Again there’s silence; and as a cloud floats between you and the sun, darkening the room, your will breaks. “What do You ask of me, my Lord?” Silence again, but before you’re able to speak, God says to you, “I’ve told you what to do. You’ve refused. I understand you aren’t strong enough to carry out this command.” “That’s right. I cannot! I love my God.” And instantly God replies, “Very well. I am Just, and I am Knowing, and I am Fair to my children on Earth. You shall continue to believe in Me. But in doing so, you must not speak another word the rest of your mortal life. You shall live in silence till you again have reached Me and my Angels in Heaven.” Thus said the Lord. And as you lay your head back down to your pillow, consumed by heavy, fearful thoughts, your three year old son shyly tiptoes through the bedroom door to tell you Good Morning and that he loves you.
of drinking, and woke up Sunday night to start it all over again.
Monday morning, drunk and delirious with happiness,
he tenderly embraced a mound of blankets with a dog in its center,
mistaking it as his toddler daughter asleep in bed;
then rushed stumbling through the living room.
Something soft crushed under one of his violently loud footsteps,
and he heard the sound of something cracking and breaking.
One of his daughter’s dolls, he figured, and almost instantly forgot:
He’d buy her another, he thought later.
Outside, he got behind the wheel of his new, energy efficient auto,
white, and compact, with a small icon at the front of the hood,
depicting a straight-faced, apparently hermaphroditic white lion
with chrome brass balls, and a wide, glowing red anus.
He drove at his own drunken pace
to the office building the angels had given him exclusively for writing.
By noon, he had the first draft
of an introduction to his new novel.
He pressed “Save”, then he pressed “Send”.
After two hours of waiting,
the edited version was returned to him so he could begin again.
Feeling a little tired, but none the less excited,
he scanned the first page that read as follows:
Say you’re a devoutly religious person. You pray, you help others in the most genuine and humble manner. There have been moments and more than moments, days and weeks and months when the most horrible things imaginable to you appeared unavoidable; but you kept your faith, your genuine and helpful activities, your humble prayers; and things always came out fine, the disasters were all avoided. And your faith only grew stronger. One year, spring seemed to come early. There was a wedding in your family, and a birth; and all these things made the approaching Easter seem to be one most worthy of celebration. And that Easter morning, you wake up only minutes before the sunrise, but you can already feel its warmth, and the mounting energy of a pleasurable spring day. Then God speaks to you. He weighs down on you in His authority, and tells you that He doesn’t exist, and forbids you to believe in Him. You ask Him why He would say this to you now; and you get no answer. You suffer feelings you never experienced before, and are amazed that you’ve lived so long and never before even imagined such confused and unshaken levels of agony. By the time the sun is visible, and beaming straight onto you, as if you are the only person in the world that it’s currently shining on, but without a hint of questioning or concern in its shine; you find yourself beyond thoughts. And you say that it doesn’t make sense; how could this even make sense? what God has now demanded of you? And God says, “You make a claim in your heart to such faith. You attribute your faith in Me for your overcoming of adversities, and the loving gifts bestowed humbly by you on others, and the gifts of well-being and happiness afforded your friends and family and all that you love most. And the moment I cease to make sense, you cease to believe in Me?” Not knowing quite what to say, but overcome with both unbearable confusion and humble but passionate emotion for the Voice of your God, you tell Him, “But I do believe, I’ve always believed. And I wish to still believe, all my life, and then when I’m in Heaven with You and all those that I love and cherish in this life You’ve given me, and which I adore and thank You for every day and night of my life!” Again there’s silence; and as a cloud floats between you and the sun, darkening the room, your will breaks. “What do You ask of me, my Lord?” Silence again, but before you’re able to speak, God says to you, “I’ve told you what to do. You’ve refused. I understand you aren’t strong enough to carry out this command.” “That’s right. I cannot! I love my God.” And instantly God replies, “Very well. I am Just, and I am Knowing, and I am Fair to my children on Earth. You shall continue to believe in Me. But in doing so, you must not speak another word the rest of your mortal life. You shall live in silence till you again have reached Me and my Angels in Heaven.” Thus said the Lord. And as you lay your head back down to your pillow, consumed by heavy, fearful thoughts, your three year old son shyly tiptoes through the bedroom door to tell you Good Morning and that he loves you.
