A tunnel and a bus

Fool's gold

He had been ignoring the glaring beams either side of his treacherous path, afraid his glance would distract him from the bramble that clutched at his dusty cloak. Though his gaze was fixed firmly on the shrubbery through which he was struggling to pass through, he was distracted by a glittering light cast on the leaves he was attempting to clear. Unable to withhold his curiosity, his eyes opened wide as he realised that a light as brilliant as the sun had been by his side the whole time. Before him lay a path paved with gold beckoning for a joyous abandon, a stark contrast to the thorns that lined his feet. 

Though hesitant at first, he turned from the dirt trail and instead walked upon light itself. Each footstep fell lighter than the last as he was slowly carried within the cradling arms of the wind, as soft as the clouds themselves. Higher and higher he went, and with each passing moment, he felt a growing peace as strand by strand, his worries and fears were plucked away and thrown to fall onto the ground far below. Asleep in his comforting cocoon of an emptying mind, the wind started to pull at his soul. As it slowly ebbed away, trickling beyond his reach and seeping deep into the clouds, his soul flowed in broken tears as it lay raining upon the muddied track he had left so long ago.

With nothing but blackness left, he awoke, afraid. He cried out for his soul, but only an empty shadow remained. Trembling in fear, he felt his head glide across a hard surface, searching for an escape, but unable to see where or how far the wind had carried him, he had nowhere to go.

He had reached the top of the world and he stood beneath God's throne.

As God cast His gaze upon him, He saw only the mould of a man, an empty vessel of clay with only  the charred remains of what may have once been his soul. Not a single worthy act remained that he could offer to his Lord and as shame and fear coursed through the darkness in which he sat, he believed that even God could not abhor him as much as he did himself. And yet, hands clasped tight, muscles rigid with a faltering memory of a remembered hope, he pleaded and yearned for His Mercy.

It was God alone who could purify his form by breathing into him of His Love and His Light. His soul reborn.

On my knees, I pray.

~~~

Our Lord! We have wronged ourselves, and if You do not forgive us and have mercy upon us,
we will surely be among the losers.

[7:23]

Lucifer

The wind brought the devil

and in a mirrored silence, Lucifer and I danced tonight.

Jet black eyes reflected his soul;

a leaping fire, consuming, burning his heart to dust, scattered by the ravens circling his remains.

Through his darkness I drew my veil, a broken fence to his call

and as my heart birthed stones, I felt his burning flesh firmly grasped on my hand,

his ashen remains pulling me towards his abode.

There was only a blackness that lay a choking hold on to life itself

a suffocation that clawed at the dirt

scrabbling, writhing,
destroyed.

Therein lay an empty sack of bones and hollowed skulls that lay bleeding with their sins,
a wasteland desecrated by the stench of the damned. 

A harsh guttural cry escaped from the torn out voices as the broken feasted on the discarded, and a rattling heralded their demise.

Watching as the air within each cell was sucked dry, depleted, 

each soul lay paralysed, charred in the fire of regret.

God stood as a witness to my annihilation,

destruction by my own hand.

God Almighty above, save me from myself.

Sticks and Stones