Monday, February 7, 2011


Do statues and carvings have souls? They can. When they are the suspended image of a life-eater. So Sarah endured and she thought and she felt. Her eyes did not see, not in the physical sense. But she did see, because her mind could see. And she felt, because her soul could feel. Time had no meaning anymore. All creation, all existence was experienced as a singularity. She knew that the elves and cherubs had crossed over to this state with her. But their reality was their reality. To each his own. So she hovered there, lost among the stars in a limitless dream. She saw her parents. She went to them. And in an instant she knew all they had to tell her . They knew her truths as well. It was comforting to meld with them. She felt and saw places that were dear to her, old homes, streets, rooms, beaches, luncheonettes, garages and automobiles. People came to her as well. They greeted her. They loved her. The 'smoke' of their existence spiraled together until they were almost one. She asked - Am I dead? Have I passed over?....And they answered her and told her she had not. She was only pressed up against the window of The World to Come. She could feel the warmth of it. She could hear it and feel its vibrations. It was possible to mingle a bit with the people there through the occasional 'crack' in the limitless window. But she could not pass through. For what she had experienced was only a pale copy of the real thing, a foretaste of the genuine article. If she concentrated, she could make out the sound of angels' wings, although she could not see them. Her parents told her to have faith and be patient. Nothing lasts forever. Not even the universe. And then they faded away, leaving her all alone, adrift in a creamy, gray eternity and searching for other dreams.....Jonathon thought of her often. He knew she was near. He knew she was not truly dead. But Sarah was removed from him, imprisoned in a forttress far stronger than Papa's Roman dungeon. A Rapunzel trapped inside a magic tower. And Papa had the key. That's why he had to be careful. It would not do to anger his strange adversary. Let the 'being'  run out of steam. Let him satisfy all urges, till they were urges no more. Then, maybe then, they could talk. Jonathon would continue taking his ease among the mole folk. And life spent in the glow of the tiny, orange sterno fires had its pluses. He enjoyed playing with the two sisters. Aura and Sylvia they were called. And they never tired of being with him. Their father knew of this three part alliance and even approved of it. Let them mush up with Jonathon. What harm could it do? He could not make them pregnant. It was hard to feed newcomers and this was a union incapable of producing any. A veritable pleasure for all parties concerned. So the princeling  and his harem scampered through the countless tunnels of their 'neverland', rediscovering forgotten Lenapi graveyards and skinny dipping in mineral-rich, subterranean pools, where they encountered the occasional rejected alligator, now grown to its full estate. His blood gifts kept them strong. His kisses made them beautiful. Ah, his two splendid sirens in the dark. At times, when the moon was full, he'd sneak away from them, going up into its silvery light,  where he'd corner a deserving evil doer, whisper in its ear , nibble at its flesh and drink away its life, a naked sprite (for he often forgot about clothing) sent to redress all wrongs......The time would come. He would confront Papa. Sarah would return. The others would come back. And all would be made right. Some night it would happen.....Some night.....

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