I’m
wondering what the reason was for our anticipation. Do blue skies really lead
to sunny days? I’m watching a single butterfly cling to a broken flower. He’s
trying to flourish among sparse vegetation. Does he know the harsh limitations
of his lonely existence or is he simply reacting to the available flower.
Another butterfly has come and chased him off –no community, no higher order of
brotherly love – are we the only ones who have the potential to rise above Darwin
I
am not looking for words that matter, I am looking for matter without words for
truly we are a fundamentalist, a mystic or an existentialist. I respond to your
moral accusations and recruiting efforts with existentialism, so I guess I have
my answer – that there is no answer – even though I wish there were, but I am
easily bored by angry butterflies and morbid flowers.
I’m
tired of being disappointed. Maybe I should be content with the fragrance of a
few flowers in a field – they toil not and neither do they spin and yet the
flowers feed their fragile wings to satisfaction. All they have to do is seek
and find and fly away in the face of aggression. Not one of them falls without
our Father’s notice – see? I truly want to be a mystic. Let left be right and the
right be left I will not participate in the illusion of human perception; I
want my soul to be so nourished that my body forgets the purpose it use to
serve. I have no more questions, just a desire for a conviction that is
evidenced by the way I live: That God is all; is my all and everything else is
an abhorrent distraction. That I am a butterfly, a creation of grace and God’s
Spirit is in every flower till every act of mine is defined by seeking his
nourishment.
***
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