Quiet as it's kept
On some warm, September night,
The author dozes in waiting,
Having finished her greatest playwright.
And If not for the blood spurting out of her chest,
No one could tell the difference.
Perhaps dozing is best. . . . . . . . . .
~Crimson Lei-Kancher
Disclaimer: Don't own Bible or anything. Except that poem. If I did own it, I would be partying with Jesus at that wedding bash in Canaan. Water to wine, baby! (Correct me if I'm wrong.)
Prologue: Musings
Hmm. . . . . today is quite the odd day. There are no more prayers to be heard, though I sincerely don't mind. The sun has set, leaving God and I to wonder over a starry sky, and wonder vicariously over space. What had He done with it? That is yet another thing I don't know. Sometimes I wonder why my Father has to be so. . . . discrete.
I talked with Saint Nicholas today.
'Oh some these poor children are just the naughtiest, just brats!'
'Oh? How, my friend?'
'Terrible things, Jesus. Toying with drugs, sex, hurting feelings without a second thought on why. . . . honestly it repulses me. But I know you, Jesus. I know you'd never disappoint me. . . . . .'
However, I wouldn't blame my Father. Some things I have to be discrete about as well. You see, dearest readers, I was not always the Saint the bible would portray me as. I was worse than the supposed 'brats' he griped of. Don't get me wrong, I fell in love with humanity from birth. Showing it was a whole different matter.
No one has had the privilege to know this except now.
I was a Rebel.
Rebel Jesus Christ. So take a seat; I'm setting the record straight. If you dare, of course.
Flames are tolerated. I just warm up those cute little polar bears in Antarctica with them. I AM a Christian, however, I often wonder, was he a good boy as a kid, as good as he was as an adult?
.MY LIFE DEPENDS ON IT.