Disclaimer: Um, how should I say this? I don't own God??? Somehow, that
sounds really, REALLY odd. Oh well, 'enjoy' the angst of the story here.
Fact: Did you know John was the only one of the twelve Apostles to die a natural death??? Apparently, one of the persecuting Emperors tried every trick in the book to kill John, failed, (^-^) and exiled him to the desert in the end until the Emperor's death..and John was still alive!!! XDXDXD
Tumbling towards ecstasy.
Or is this insanity?
The thoughts of the aftermath of love, trust, and inspiration.
*************
Agony. It's strange how you never know feelings until you experience them. But then, He already had taught me that. Experience, that is. 'In order to experience the purest, most perfect form of love, you must also experience the poisoned, harshest way of abhor.'
I'd loved Him.
I guess His most faultless manner of love was seeing others feeling it. And, for the way he accepted the hate, hearing those bring out their own selfish, foolish conclusions against Him. He had given them His all and it wasn't enough. They killed Him. And, as I had watched His blood drip down the wood and onto the ground, I wanted to shout to the soldiers, curse at them, spit at them. How dare they harm Him! DIDN'T THEY KNOW WHO HE WAS?
But I didn't. I, just as His Mother and John had done, only watched numbly as He looked at us once more and left. To where, I do not know. I don't think I ever knew in the first place. He promised us...
But most importantly of all, He had promised me.
I clench my fists tighter, fighting the urge to scream at them not to place the bolder in. Not yet, please anyone, not yet! He can't be gone, go check! You'll see, He couldn't be killed, not by man alone! Not by mortal hand, not by something so insignificant and powerless against God!
But I didn't; I turned on my heel, away from the others. Away from Him and His empty promises that made my heart swell with hope. Hope that I too could find happiness and love in Yahweh whom He was so close to.
And so now I'm here. Alone; just like before. Funny how life goes that way; as I brush my long hair I ponder on what I'll do next. What was there for me? I can picture my face now: red, swelled, drained, and just not what I needed either. He'd said appearance didn't matter. He had spoken of Father's love for all He made. He told me that God loved me; that God held me dear to Him in His own open heart.
"What kind of god are you now?" I bite out, throwing the brush. I let my face fall in my hands and cry again. I can feel it; _IT_ coming back. The intense tempest of a void that had clutched my miserable soul to it and refused to let go... He made it go away. But now that He was gone, and what was there to keep it from returning? I felt like I was grabbing for something so desperately as it edged closer in the back of my mind, creeping, yet only getting the wind.
He left me. I let my knees fall to the ground. I squeeze my eyes shut in a futile attempt to jar out the emotions piling up. "I won't break!" I mutter in a psychotic mantra. "I won't I won't I won't!"
~*~
/A smile and soft eyes... tanned, muscular hands reaching out in askance. "It's all right, Mary." That warm voice, strong yet so coaxingly gentle and loving. Falling...falling so hard physically...and emotionally. Warm arms helping her up again as she stared into the sun as if for the first time; those eyes smiling so kindly she wondered if he was a dream. The crowd stared at her strangely, as if she were the dirty locust. His followers wearing a look of extreme disapproval; he ignored them. This man led her away, all the while, telling her wonderful things of happiness with that calm, peaceful voice.
The sun's rays were warm like Him as He told the Ways once more. He looked to her as she asked Him a question she knew was foolish. The smile that spread over His face as He laughed at her gently and told her she was too modest.
That same person's voice trembling and hacking blood as He asked for wine just as He died. His last look to her was broken, in a pain she could never imagine.
A pain, she achingly realized, He did not want her to imagine nor experience./
~*~
Soft eyes.
Warm.
I'd loved Him.
But He left me.
I collapsed there on the mud floor. I heard John and Peter move uncomfortably. I ignored them. They were not Him, so they did not matter.
I clutched myself as reality sunk in. And sapphires bled crystals for the first time as I lost the feeling inside myself.
*******
Gift.
Love.
Warm.
Never again. The jewels that fell were cold and empty, not like safe warm soft light. Her hugs hurt. Her arms bled from digging with her nails.
Please come back.
He couldn't be gone.
He couldn't.
He'd promised.
HE'D PROMISED.
"He promised me," she whimpered, and pain seared through her again.
*******
Loneliness.
Why was it so dark now?
"I hate you." She muttered. I hate the Light by which He had brought to me, which I _hadn't_ even wanted in the first place. Who _would_ want it?! It was too bright, too hot, too piercing and showed all the secrets you want to hide and you feel naked on burning coal sands and so _vulnerable_ I want to die so _who the fuck_ would want _that_?!
Tremble.
Shaking.
Breaking.
That's what happened without Him.
It was dark, lonely and cold and I hated the Darkness for its confusion and always there madness with fire and frozen night stars and freezing cold where nothing is real and all lies and illusions and hot, painful sex and dark-dark-dark GO AWAY.
I hate the light.
I also hate the darkness.
I hate them both and want neither.
I don't want to open my eyes to the reality piercing through Earth.
I don't want to close them and be alone. Even behind the closed lids the dark and light both existed.
How can I possibly escape both?
The Followers had left.
Why did You damn me to _need_ both?
I hadn't expected them to stay. I am a woman, merely tolerated by custom. That hurts too, I am nothing special just a falsely accused whore whom none believe...
No matter what He had said?
What had I done wrong?
What, I beg to the wall, had _He_ done wrong?
"I can not," Trembling, so scared for life: "...live without Him."
/Erratic panic filled her, and she felt the boarders of that lightening insanity poking at her, the temptation of oblivion pounding in her head.
Lost lost poor little lost girl all abandoned and alone?
'Please go away,' she cried, she felt the snakes coming, slithering and biting. She flinched and cried out, backing away into the wall.
Locking herself in./
*******
When I opened my eyes, I found that I was no longer at the inn from which John had left me.
Stare stare that's all to do. Take in breathe out and in just like that.
Pretty things. Sun beams...warm.
Had He sent them?
...She turned and dug her face into the dirt. It was cool and soft.
Had He made it so?
"Why can't I escape you?"
Cry again.
How you expect me to go on?
Clench fists, palm wounds reopened. She couldn't see the blood but it was still there. She felt it trickle down, so agonizingly slow. It itched. Had it felt this way for You, as they fell down Your brow, the numbing pain in your skull?
Pain God isolated again.
Father?
/Tiny just a child going to be married screaming and crying rough matt get off get off what are you doing to me?/
She wiped the blood of her hands on her face.
Father, you loved me for my resemblance of will like Mother, and even with that love you could not protect me.
Whore bitch you're no good.
Not my fault. Not not not just...leave me... If accepting the ruling would they leave her alone?
"Why are you doing this to me?"
*******
You notice that the point of views shift from first to second quite randomly. In the beginning the paragraphs longer, the thoughts are more rational, and a point of realism. At the end there are chaotic and random. And I know that Jesus was only dead for three days, I am, myself, Catholic. This universal religion however in my opinion, fails at vital points to realize the magnitude of His followers suffering.
Rant:
Notice also that Mary Magdalene was not a whore. She never _WAS_, and the Bible is proof to this statement as it was never said. 'A woman of great sin?' Please, people stupidly forget that the language barrier and meanings back then, added with symbolism, are completely different from ours today. The false accusation was made in the sixth century, where the Pope of that time had included her with other sinful women. This statement was cancelled out by the present Pope, but it was an infuriatingly quiet statement. It is speculated by theologists now-a-days that the Magdalene woman had perhaps been born with a disorder, or seizures. Back then, they reason now, it was thought to be a sin to have such. They did not understand that diseases were not brought on by sin, by that of a parent or the child itself. So naturally, they thought of her as a sinful woman. The other possibility is that she had been raped. This happened often, though not handled lightly, males had the final say. Who would believe a woman? None. So, I put both!
Fact: Did you know John was the only one of the twelve Apostles to die a natural death??? Apparently, one of the persecuting Emperors tried every trick in the book to kill John, failed, (^-^) and exiled him to the desert in the end until the Emperor's death..and John was still alive!!! XDXDXD
Tumbling towards ecstasy.
Or is this insanity?
The thoughts of the aftermath of love, trust, and inspiration.
*************
Agony. It's strange how you never know feelings until you experience them. But then, He already had taught me that. Experience, that is. 'In order to experience the purest, most perfect form of love, you must also experience the poisoned, harshest way of abhor.'
I'd loved Him.
I guess His most faultless manner of love was seeing others feeling it. And, for the way he accepted the hate, hearing those bring out their own selfish, foolish conclusions against Him. He had given them His all and it wasn't enough. They killed Him. And, as I had watched His blood drip down the wood and onto the ground, I wanted to shout to the soldiers, curse at them, spit at them. How dare they harm Him! DIDN'T THEY KNOW WHO HE WAS?
But I didn't. I, just as His Mother and John had done, only watched numbly as He looked at us once more and left. To where, I do not know. I don't think I ever knew in the first place. He promised us...
But most importantly of all, He had promised me.
I clench my fists tighter, fighting the urge to scream at them not to place the bolder in. Not yet, please anyone, not yet! He can't be gone, go check! You'll see, He couldn't be killed, not by man alone! Not by mortal hand, not by something so insignificant and powerless against God!
But I didn't; I turned on my heel, away from the others. Away from Him and His empty promises that made my heart swell with hope. Hope that I too could find happiness and love in Yahweh whom He was so close to.
And so now I'm here. Alone; just like before. Funny how life goes that way; as I brush my long hair I ponder on what I'll do next. What was there for me? I can picture my face now: red, swelled, drained, and just not what I needed either. He'd said appearance didn't matter. He had spoken of Father's love for all He made. He told me that God loved me; that God held me dear to Him in His own open heart.
"What kind of god are you now?" I bite out, throwing the brush. I let my face fall in my hands and cry again. I can feel it; _IT_ coming back. The intense tempest of a void that had clutched my miserable soul to it and refused to let go... He made it go away. But now that He was gone, and what was there to keep it from returning? I felt like I was grabbing for something so desperately as it edged closer in the back of my mind, creeping, yet only getting the wind.
He left me. I let my knees fall to the ground. I squeeze my eyes shut in a futile attempt to jar out the emotions piling up. "I won't break!" I mutter in a psychotic mantra. "I won't I won't I won't!"
~*~
/A smile and soft eyes... tanned, muscular hands reaching out in askance. "It's all right, Mary." That warm voice, strong yet so coaxingly gentle and loving. Falling...falling so hard physically...and emotionally. Warm arms helping her up again as she stared into the sun as if for the first time; those eyes smiling so kindly she wondered if he was a dream. The crowd stared at her strangely, as if she were the dirty locust. His followers wearing a look of extreme disapproval; he ignored them. This man led her away, all the while, telling her wonderful things of happiness with that calm, peaceful voice.
The sun's rays were warm like Him as He told the Ways once more. He looked to her as she asked Him a question she knew was foolish. The smile that spread over His face as He laughed at her gently and told her she was too modest.
That same person's voice trembling and hacking blood as He asked for wine just as He died. His last look to her was broken, in a pain she could never imagine.
A pain, she achingly realized, He did not want her to imagine nor experience./
~*~
Soft eyes.
Warm.
I'd loved Him.
But He left me.
I collapsed there on the mud floor. I heard John and Peter move uncomfortably. I ignored them. They were not Him, so they did not matter.
I clutched myself as reality sunk in. And sapphires bled crystals for the first time as I lost the feeling inside myself.
*******
Gift.
Love.
Warm.
Never again. The jewels that fell were cold and empty, not like safe warm soft light. Her hugs hurt. Her arms bled from digging with her nails.
Please come back.
He couldn't be gone.
He couldn't.
He'd promised.
HE'D PROMISED.
"He promised me," she whimpered, and pain seared through her again.
*******
Loneliness.
Why was it so dark now?
"I hate you." She muttered. I hate the Light by which He had brought to me, which I _hadn't_ even wanted in the first place. Who _would_ want it?! It was too bright, too hot, too piercing and showed all the secrets you want to hide and you feel naked on burning coal sands and so _vulnerable_ I want to die so _who the fuck_ would want _that_?!
Tremble.
Shaking.
Breaking.
That's what happened without Him.
It was dark, lonely and cold and I hated the Darkness for its confusion and always there madness with fire and frozen night stars and freezing cold where nothing is real and all lies and illusions and hot, painful sex and dark-dark-dark GO AWAY.
I hate the light.
I also hate the darkness.
I hate them both and want neither.
I don't want to open my eyes to the reality piercing through Earth.
I don't want to close them and be alone. Even behind the closed lids the dark and light both existed.
How can I possibly escape both?
The Followers had left.
Why did You damn me to _need_ both?
I hadn't expected them to stay. I am a woman, merely tolerated by custom. That hurts too, I am nothing special just a falsely accused whore whom none believe...
No matter what He had said?
What had I done wrong?
What, I beg to the wall, had _He_ done wrong?
"I can not," Trembling, so scared for life: "...live without Him."
/Erratic panic filled her, and she felt the boarders of that lightening insanity poking at her, the temptation of oblivion pounding in her head.
Lost lost poor little lost girl all abandoned and alone?
'Please go away,' she cried, she felt the snakes coming, slithering and biting. She flinched and cried out, backing away into the wall.
Locking herself in./
*******
When I opened my eyes, I found that I was no longer at the inn from which John had left me.
Stare stare that's all to do. Take in breathe out and in just like that.
Pretty things. Sun beams...warm.
Had He sent them?
...She turned and dug her face into the dirt. It was cool and soft.
Had He made it so?
"Why can't I escape you?"
Cry again.
How you expect me to go on?
Clench fists, palm wounds reopened. She couldn't see the blood but it was still there. She felt it trickle down, so agonizingly slow. It itched. Had it felt this way for You, as they fell down Your brow, the numbing pain in your skull?
Pain God isolated again.
Father?
/Tiny just a child going to be married screaming and crying rough matt get off get off what are you doing to me?/
She wiped the blood of her hands on her face.
Father, you loved me for my resemblance of will like Mother, and even with that love you could not protect me.
Whore bitch you're no good.
Not my fault. Not not not just...leave me... If accepting the ruling would they leave her alone?
"Why are you doing this to me?"
*******
You notice that the point of views shift from first to second quite randomly. In the beginning the paragraphs longer, the thoughts are more rational, and a point of realism. At the end there are chaotic and random. And I know that Jesus was only dead for three days, I am, myself, Catholic. This universal religion however in my opinion, fails at vital points to realize the magnitude of His followers suffering.
Rant:
Notice also that Mary Magdalene was not a whore. She never _WAS_, and the Bible is proof to this statement as it was never said. 'A woman of great sin?' Please, people stupidly forget that the language barrier and meanings back then, added with symbolism, are completely different from ours today. The false accusation was made in the sixth century, where the Pope of that time had included her with other sinful women. This statement was cancelled out by the present Pope, but it was an infuriatingly quiet statement. It is speculated by theologists now-a-days that the Magdalene woman had perhaps been born with a disorder, or seizures. Back then, they reason now, it was thought to be a sin to have such. They did not understand that diseases were not brought on by sin, by that of a parent or the child itself. So naturally, they thought of her as a sinful woman. The other possibility is that she had been raped. This happened often, though not handled lightly, males had the final say. Who would believe a woman? None. So, I put both!