April 10, 2003
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Jacob’s Ladder
The sky is a canvas and it’s painted two shades of blue, stretching for kilometers outward. Near the rugged caplines of distant mountains, lenticular clouds shoot upward in highly unusual, layered formations. Here, roasting in the rising heat of morning, a young man is sprawled on sand, a layer of dust for a blanket. From above, it’s a pitiable sight.
One can almost imagine his skin peeling slowly with every passing minute, epidermal moisture sizzling, evaporating into hungry, dry air. Like the soft hyperactive bat of moth wings, his eyes flicker open as he winces from the sun’s unimpeded glare. He sits up confused, bewildered by sparse surroundings, far removed from the sensual richness of night.
He saw a ladder ascending up and through the stratosphere. Imagine celestial strobe lights draped liked Christmas over and through each rung. It’s Broadway from Up on High as angels descend on either side, all the glitter and glory of the Maker on front window display. The chorus sings a hyperactive Messiah, pre-dating Handel’s masterpiece by a few millennia. The sky is overwhelmed with dancing, every step, every twirl, every flip and somersault choreographed to heavenly perfection. Higher up, the seraphim sashay with canes of gold and top hats plucked from the ether. The cherubim cantillate a round, declaring all goodness and grace, breaking out in lovely trills and soulful, blended melodies. They’re rambunctious, toasting mugs of God-ordained beverage.
Designed by men, it would all be gaudy but as it is, it comes from Above and so leaves the baby-faced man blinking and slack-jawed. He’s consumed with equal parts – awe and fear. It isn’t heroine, gin or women, but he’s stolen a blessing and he’s a marked man. In the harrowing world of Pentateuch life, everyone’s running from something, often as the villain.
It’s boom-boom like a holy disco, bass thumping, everyone dancing wholesome. Except for Jacob. The spectacle of lights and colors overwhelm him and in the beautiful madness, he hears a message. In that intoxicating crowd of heavenly beings, he finds redemption and Promise.
Mouth dry and sticky under the pain of a sleepless night, he’s sore from a twilight tossing among desert briars. Head pounding like a thousand obnoxious drummers marching in formation, free with the cymbals, he remembers. The clouds shoot upward and the dust settles around him. It’s the hangover we all pray for.
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a damn good disguise
a damn good disguise
was found last week
bits and pieces gathered
by me.
a damn good disguise
is only useful if
you don’t get caught
by the powers that be.
a damn good disguise
let’s you walk incognito
through ribbing crowds
who are blinded but see.
a damn good disguise
is something you see
every day
a damn good disguise
is a bit of a ruse
because under those layers
the same person will be
the same person
will be
variations of you.
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This week is moving along at a brisk pace. Yo. I may be moving… I’ll keep you posted. <wink> I’ve had a lot on my mind and some things are a little hazy but life is good.
Matt11:28
Comments (4)
I wholeheartedly agree. There are many facets to a person.
Where might you be relocating to?
Your stories are always so eloquent. I love that there are people out there that have held on to the beauty of the English language though society tries so hard to make us forget.
God is so good, isn’t He?
words. such interesting things…
*smiles!*
hello!
~stella~
hey where have you been dawg?