Sunday, 31 August 2014
Lay down on the blood encrusted stone, let them rip your heart out. They will bite and eat it, will burn it on the charcoal fire. Let them dismember your body, the scream of your flesh will soar to the sky. The arid ground will drink your blood, the idols will cackle and cheer, but only in the idolaters' eyes. Let them break your bones, let them plough your body like soil to sow. They will ground all the bones of your body, put hooks in your flesh, steal the light from your eyes and take your breath away. Let them seizing everything from you, let them leaving your body in ruin, abandon your tortured soul at the edge of the road feast for your mind's crows. Won't be resurrection for you, nor new life in a new form. You'll be cripple and dying, nothing will be left to you. But of every thing they have deprived you they won't keep the smallest part. It will slip like water through their fingers, it will be like trying to grab the wind. To you nothing will remain but pain, to them not even it.