Monday, September 12, 2011

JONATHON, the 'eightteen' year old vampire of a thousand suns, GOES KNOCKING ON HEAVEN'S DOOR

Jonathon felt the pull, like a tide rushing through his body. He was walking along an outlying lane beyond the city walls. It was an attractive district of old villas. Most were built by wealthy German vintners who made 'aliyah' during the mid to late nineteenth century. They helped raise synagogues and schools, contributing greatly toward the rebiirth of spoken Hebrew.

He heard their voices. He heard whispers moving through the atmosphere. Innvisible fingers pulled at his clothing and tugged his hair. And then the sublimation happened. His body crackled with a clean, white charge, tickling his molecules and freeing his essence. The soul that is Jonathon's moved through solid walls and leafy gardens. He saw lovers embracing deep within cool, dark shadows. He drank in the perfum of roses and orange blossoms.

And then he was back within the sacred walls, rising up to the Temple Mount and finding rest upon it. A man came forth to meet him, his face hidded by a cloak wrapped 'round his head. No words were spoken. None were needed. The identity of his guide was unimportant. His mortal or immortal state even less so. For are we not all immortal? And is not the flesh and bone supporting your true self little more that the trappings of a coach, useful for a time, but eventually breaking down and wearing away.

So they walked, if you'd like to visualize it as walking. They passed stalwart guards, upright in the moonlight and noble sanctuaries constructed by men. Then they flowed down through the rock, into a huge cavern known to exist beneath the anciennt foundation. Smooth and deep. Rather like the interior of a rough hewn egg. Soul-like wraiths swirled all about them. Some called out their names. Some said prayers. Others just laughed. A caretaker, attired in the robes of a desert sheik, trembled as they approached, quickly disappearing through a secret door.

Then the man with the hidden face stopped. He pionted at Jonathon and he stopped too. All forms of artificial illunimation trickling down from the shrine above evaporated. And the moon shone down through the miraculously transparent layers of human toil.

Then he knew. Then Jonathon knew. This is the Well of Souls. Hark unto my words! Think not that we are discussing that ficticious charade constructed on the gloaming shore of the New World's northern isle. For we are not in Tanis. This is not a nurse's tale. We speak not to the innocent, but to the profane. For they need it most. So open your ears, as well as  your soul. Bind yourself to our traveller and progress with him toward this midnight rondevous.

Our bodies pass through stone. Our ' hearts' as well. Look about and see. We are there, assembled at the foot of God's Great Skyway.... Take a breath. Move forward. Hold on. Have faith. Look up. Look up and see! Hold fast to Jonathon , as he ascends Jacob's Ladder..........

Fear not.........for it is written that.........



A vampire stripling, originally meant for the earthly court of the great Rashi, rises up to knock on Heaven's Door.....................................................And boy, was Dylan jealous (read the'll know), but Lennon just laughed and Islam just prayed.........
please leave a comment...please tell others.....the vampires sincerely welcome you.

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