Cityscape Empire: Our Temporal Abodes

Stars halt my racing heart and Nashville’s city-lights catch my eyes on the yield. My mind ponders over the light emanating from the streets, towers, and Hustler Hollywood. All forms of socioeconomic class and ethnic group flock to the city of Nashville, and I wonder: to what end was such a city conjured? On an individual basis, a man understands that he is finite and his efforts will fade away; on a universal basis, mankind lives and acts as though it is immortal and its institutions will undoubtedly withstand the trial of ages.

Light’s mere existence renders me breathless, let alone a metropolitan night. Mankind raises constructions which simultaneously enamor and tear me inside. All that has been, is being, and will be built up will be torn down. Ceaselessly, mankind plays in its sandcastles without accounting for the coming tide.

Though we are frozen within our own time, we are warm just enough to move. Any success or lack thereof a man may consider himself to have accomplished has an end: it is simply and truthfully the nature of finite things to remain as such. Man may work to live or live to work; death closes both cases, and our cityscapes stand tall as ephemeral empires.

Words Whisper: Understanding People

Words tell; living speaks. Such is the limitation of tongue-based, material language. The life of a man speaks an unspoken language native to those of the living.

Created moments, memories, serve a purpose as reference: either for reminiscence or regret. Likewise, moments made in the moment and realized divert the course action that follows in lieu of knowing what one did right or wrong. Planned moments motivate the actions preceding them with the hope that they will come to fruition. Living creates moments: moments in action silently speak man’s unspoken language; time writes it down, publishing to each
man a personal novel titled Life.

People are not read: they are heard.

A desperately drunk man asked me for my lighter tonight; despairingly, I heard him.

 

Heaven’s Heart: Revisting Siloam

Nearer the Beginning of November, I posted on this blog for the first time and am now returning for a moment to develop a thought:

“This man washed his eyes, blind, and dried off seeing. Likewise, starlight washes my eyes and illuminates Earth’s beauty. Comparatively, creation’s veil lifts, and her eyes mirror mine. No few nights have I gazed at the heavens and admired her worth, intrinsic and imprinted by her Creator.”

Comparatively, creations veil lifts, and her eyes mirror mine, reflecting an intimate, personal individual whose identity is understood in unison with his Creator’s flawless identity. Opening my spiritual eyes closes the eyes of my flesh, and the believers’ spirits surrounding me illuminate, appearing as a silhouettes whose shadows are cast as flesh. The soul incarnates the body which relies on its possessor to act, as a shadow does its silhouette.

Creation echoes the Creator’s voice; those disposed with spirit mirror his image. When he, created in the image of God, recognizes of the image of God, he simultaneously becomes enlightened of himself – and God.

The spirit reflects God’s image uniquely; and mankind, like a broken mirror, represents vibrantly the Creator’s image upon restoration.

Thence I say, no few nights have I gazed at the heavens and admired her worth, intrinsic and imprinted by her Creator.             

Starlight of Siloam: A Little Town Night

Pleasant View’s night sky is a pleasant view, indeed. Stars shine brighter in the sticks and the darkness abroad invites more. Traveling westward from Nashville to the small town dispels both city lights and city-life: distractions. Curiously, the absence of light illuminates my blindness in the presence thereof. You could say that stars, for me, simulate the pool of Siloam.

Jesus benefitted many a blind man; peers questioned the renewed sight of one man in particular. This man proclaimed,

            “The man called Jesus made mud and anointed my eyes and said to me, ‘Go to Siloam and wash’, So, I went and washed and received my sight”

This man washed his eyes, blind, and dried off seeing. Likewise, starlight washes my eyes and illuminates Earth’s beauty. Comparatively, creation’s veil lifts, and her eyes mirror mine. No few nights have I gazed at the heavens and admired her worth, intrinsic and imprinted by her Creator.

That night in Pleasant View, the celestial lights lit the sky and woke my mind. Prior to, I was conscious; thereafter, I was aware.