“I am no god but I know God. I Am is God. There is but One. He speaks to all, but few listen to His Word.” The stranger spoke into the mob. Standing firmly upon the truth, he showed no fear.
“Blasphemy!” Shouted the crowd of fools. They were of the one who claims to be the jew but is circumcised only of the flesh, decendant of Jacob but not of Israel.
Before their anger and fury the stranger stood unflinching. The only reaction observable was the soft sound of disappointment escaping through his deep intake of air and slow, quiet release.
“I am an heir of Abraham. I have faith in his seed. That promise made to Abram, Isaac, and Jacob was made for all the families which walk the earth. On this promise the Testaments stand though the first has ended, the second remains. Soon even that may change when my Master returns.
I am a Jew as well as Semite. Curcumcised of the heart and filled with the Spirit, I am of the tribe of Irsael. No redefining or reformulation of understanding can erase that. Engraved by the Almighty, how vainly do you scub and scrap upon the stone which this Church is built.
Behold the Temple.
Being but a lowly servant in the order of Melchizedek, king of Salem, priest of El Elyon, God Most High, I can only give you my own testimony of the coming day:
Look, see the High Preist, the Son of God. His eyes are fixed upon you. His voice calls. It is your free choice to blot out your own name or to clearly write it in the Book of Life. It is your choice… a choice not given to the angels. They with great jealously and envy look upon those made in God’s own image with little compassion. They serve the will of God, the good and bad, without fail.
Repent for your iniquity is great.”
With great gnashing of teeth, and tearing of their clothes, the masses seethed.
The bearing of impending retribution and the baring of their transgression burned like a hot coal to them.
The stranger knew what was to come.
“Do not rebuke a mocker, or he will hate you; rebuke a wise man, and he will love you.”
A torrent flowed uncontrolled from the lips of the naive nief and fallen men of renown. Curses, ill-conceived, poured forth from minds unable to understand.
Those who first entwined themselves with the majority began to filter silently out to the fringe. Minds exposed to grace soon finding the Light for the Light shineth in darkness; and the darkness comprehended it not nor has overcome it…
The Man in Grey shuffled through the turnstile. The inconvenience, though breif, was enough to trigger his PTSD. Scanning the machinary and attendants beyond the choke point with a nervous, jumpy anxiety, the Man began making a multitude of escape and attack plans within his head. As predicted though the anxiety ebbed, the stress returning back to a concealable amount, though the plans were filed away for the future… just in case.
Making eye contact was never the Grey Mans favorite thing to do but on the occasions of being funneled along with a large group a very unavoidable thing.
“One cannot simply walk about staring at the back of heads or ceiling tiles. To be normal (or appear to be) the traveller must gaze about prepared to react and act. The gypsy and tinker know.”
“How odd it must be for you, my friend. Dragged along in a story not your own?”
The question was not really a question. Just a casual statement made by the many nameless voices which floated about in the Library.
The Sage had grown accustomed to the intrusions. With quill to paper, the ink flowed on unceasingly.
“Noted in the margins”, the Sage replied in media.
Pat looked blankly at the meager offerings on Tumblr. Though the tits, ass, and often grotesque images could stir up the oldman inside him, he had gotten a bit better at not giving out as many hearts.
“I like the vintage, retro, and fantastic photos of cities, byways, and the people of forgotten life the best. The new memes are sometimes funny, but they often are based in hate meant to divide all the families which walk the earth. Even worse are the ones which evil has made to redefine words to suit an agenda.”
Pat hoped most were just bots and not just wicked people. He noticed the tree which they spread out from.
“Enough reposting of that shit gets you unfollowed. If you have something to say then be original about it.”
On a clear days the Knight could see the path upon which brought him to the mountain’s top. Twisting and difficult, it has not been easy. (*edit – the slight pun on day and knight given by the author and not the sage.*)
“Still the way continues on for the knowledge learned shows the ignorance of my own understanding”.
And the fires still burn as the smoke rises upwards. What a pleasant fragrance it is to the nostrils of our Lord.
