I watch the candlelight play in the wind while I think about my life. I don’t mind the fire tonight or the burning in my soul for places I’m heading to in the years to come. It might be the fact the wind is cold, and outside of the candle there is no heat in my room now allowing to dwell in my mind. The still of the night has long fallen on my world, and I should be in the loving arms of your brother, but I am not. My mind is filled with endless thoughts and endless places I must go.
How beautiful are the books around me taking my soul to where ever I wish to go? I find them an endless joy to have like a lover or a great friend to talk with over tea. I do sometimes wonder why I am pulled to books with great evil in them. Books about unspeakable horrors done by people to people. Maybe, that is why I read them, and other write them because they are so unbelievable evil.
In the pages of a book called “The Rape of Nanking” by Iris Chang, I found act committed to the people of the city by the Japanese which will never leave my mind. They would tie two people together kill one of them and leave the other person to starve to death. Or pour gasoline over someone letting them run and shot them to watch them turn into a human candle. Yes, these horrors have plagued my mind these last few nights, and you could say it is why I haven’t slept.
And yet, I found it was a book I needed to read. I could see the depths of Hell in the human soul within the safe walls of a book. The ink of the pages shielded me from the horrors while allowing me to understand there is true and great evil in the world. I find myself disappointed in many people because they fear the word “evil” and I wonder if they read the kind of books I have would they change their minds? Many of the people I know who are reluctant to use evil as a word are the same people book who cannot stand to read a powerful book like “The Rape of Nanking.”
I do not blame them. I am not sure I could ask anyone to read books about the evil of man because it would change the world for them. It has me, but not in a way which dulls life for me. In fact, I found it does the opposite; I see the glory in every day because it could easily be snuffed out. However, I’m sure all would find the darkness complementing the light as it does for me.
Even as I take a pause from the letter and stare into the flame of the candle I see the beauty in the light. I do not see the dancing human candle from the pages of history. No, my mind is clear of those visions, and a new one is stepping in place leaving me to question where do these ideas come from?
It is like a spider has landed on my shoulder and I see this web out of the corner of my eye. I pull on the line of wed as it leads me to a new story, a new idea. An idea I wish to share with you and one I need to have for tonight.
The muse which came to me in church today has not left me yet. I love the idea of a muse coming to me as the Greeks believe. I even love the idea of it being a half-naked elegant woman wrapped in the glory of Heaven to whisper in my ears. I have heard a great hate for the idea of a muse or should I say a friend who has hate for being someone’s muse. They said in a very cold rant,” A muse is used and then tossed away.” I shook my head at the words wishing they could understand that is not true. A muse brings a gift to the artist and then leaves them. The artist is forever trying to win the muse back to them with his work. A battle never-ending for the artist and the heart. This battle raged between the artist, and the muse is much like the battle raged for love or that how I understand it. I hope my friend see being someone’s muse is the greatest gift you could give to a person.
And what did the muse of my day give to me?
A vision I was standing in front of a throne made of light and power and holiness, but it was empty. I was a Knight charged with the duty of protection of the King of the throne. My King has left the throne and the castle to travel among his people. I followed trying to find him.
I heard stories of the King dancing in the marketplace with the Bards. He went into the Traven to eat with the drunks and then he brought wine for the ladies of the night. He read to the children of the poor while giving gold to the workers in the mines. He walked around his kingdom with a mighty big smile on his face in awe of his people. He did all this without guards or Knights by his side. He believed these were his people and as a King, he must be among them.
I found my King in clothes worst than mine or the homeless man on the road, standing beside a crying father. The house before them was burnt to ashes, and the King was holding the father his arms telling him,” It would all be alright.” But the weeping man couldn’t see who was holding him at the moment. Life had come crashing down around him and everything was burnt to the ground. He was lost, alone, and cold. He could not see things would change for him. The King of the throne had left his seat of power to find this poor soul, not to bless him, he would eventually, but to hold him in his hour of need.
My heavy boots crunched the earth beneath them walking up to the King …
And then the muse was gone, and everything stopped. I was back in my cold room staring into the candlelight trying to understand what was given to me. Am I the crying man? Am I the Knight? Is the King the Lord?
I’m sure I could tell you how I felt about the vision I was given but it wouldn’t matter because you will see something different in it. The little story will take you to a different place then it took me. I do wonder where you see yourself in the tale, but it is a question I will never ask you. I wonder, but I don’t want to know. I like to wonder a little. I think people are always looking for too many answers in life and not understanding if we had all the answers, life would not be worth living. I do wish you would find an empty throne and the King is somewhere out there waiting for you to find him. I hope you are traveling to find him, and I pray it is a good adventure, one for the books.
The Devil is not in Hell; I was once told. He walks among us.
I believe the same about God.
I also believe the Devil looks for us and we look for God.
With a Handshake
A writer
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