Wednesday, July 29, 2015
Sunday, July 26, 2015
"Walk the path less trod" she heard. There is no sign of footsteps here. Many have passed but no mark left to know how many or who. I must now choose differently, with more purpose, with intent. No longer can I wonder freely through the wooded forest and feel new earth beneath my feet. There are no leaves to cover my steps, nor broken branches to lend the way. My life is clearly marked. Nothing is left to chance. My way is the way of others.
Read the new signs of the new horizons and move on.
The slaughter houses are clearing their stock. The carcasses mount in filthy piles in the streets. The scavengers pick at the bones of those that went to their hell behind the walls. A ray of sunlight gives little hope to those who are next or those that pass without notice. A rat rattles a can and a dove contrasts above. In between there is the new horizon, now scarred from the detritus it creates. The smell of new mown hay is replaced with stinging ammonia from a discard of the society that was to be created and failed.
Where to next? Another alley and another dawn in the new horizon.
The fences are down and the boundaries are established. The pastures are bare and the cattle wander aimlessly in search of fodder. The farmer reaps his crop and milks his sacred cows with a gentle stroke and a smile. We take willingly from the allotments, then move through the barriers to our designated domains. Unlike Larsen's cows, there is no eye contact within the bovine herd. Listless and hungry, they will circle for hours until there is little light to see them home. Tomorrow it is repeated once more for most; never again for the weak and the destitute. Old stock is weeded out and fresh meat for the market is prepared.
We are not the predators; we are the prey.
Gone are the landscapes of the old. A new beauty is with us. It offers new horizons with greener grass beyond. Neat. orderly, precise, accessible, attainable. We can still see the sky and still reach for it. Now we can feel the fabric of the cliffs, we can understand what holds it together. God is no longer necessary. We fit with as hand to glove, walking beside it knowing that tomorrow more will be revealed. The erosion of the shoreline is limited to rust and grime. This is our new farmland, our new pasture, our new home.
Wonder at its magnificence.
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