“I had no God but these, the sacerdotal Trees, and they uplifted me. The sun and moon I saw, and reverential awe subdued me day and night. Within a lifeless Stone, all other gods unknown, I sought Divinity. For sacrificial feast, I slaughtered man and beast, red recompense to gain.”
Faith into action, the mystic manifestation of the slender rope tendrils of rote.
With conviction pressing upon my conscience without relief, I fled into the out-of-doors to breathe deep of the cold clean air of night.
All of my household were asleep… brows untroubled and unfettered by the dark awareness. A searing pain that both chills and burns the Soul. A feverous infection of Spirit.
Weeping and pouring out myself in a prostrate prayer before a congregation of rustling leaves, breathing trees, and sparkling stars. I beg mercy from One that has already delivered me my pardon. I claw for food from He that has fills me still. I cry out for comfort even as I sink into the deep embrace.
Rapt and awe-struck, in feigned solitude before a sky infinite, I sink out of myself and become enmeshed in that which is His…
Losing myself, and being found.