hack
12-24-2009, 09:46 PM
Baana
Times woven fabric
of fibers torn from God's coat
twisted into now
Once, long ago, in Heaven the Angel Mathilde awoke from her ennui and spoke to God, saying "Lord, each day in heaven is like the last, an eternal bliss of yesterdays." God, easily offended as always, mistook observation for complaint and demanded that Mathilde should leave his sight.This was a prospect that Mathilde could not bear, and so she refused Gods commandment to go. God, quick to anger, as is also his wont, rose and took the Angel in His arms and tossed her mightily from Heaven toward Hell.
As Mathilde left His embrace she clutched at Him, and at all that she was about to lose. Her grasp came up empty save for a small patch of cloth that tore free from Gods sleeve. Tumbling, Hellbent, she slipped past clouds and mountaintops until, passing the beautiful Earth, her hand found purchase on the branch of an apple tree.
Pulling herself upright in that thick tangle of unpruned branches, she saw that she was not alone there. On every branch was a bird, each bird unique, an owl, a dove, a mockingbird, and so many more, beyond count. Heaven, marvelous as it was, had held no birds, and these creatures were a delight to the fallen Angel.
Mathilde took a thread then from her swatch of Gods torn rainment and gave it over gently to a weaverbird there beside her. The bird deftly intertwined it into its half-built nest. At her nape then, the Angel began to sprout tiny feathers, then nascent wings budded and took form at her back. At the end of this transformation, which would have been a wonder to a man, the birds all looked on unblinking at their newborn kin.
In the morning, at first light, all the birds roused and, one by one showed the Angel what wings are for, dispersing to the Earths farthest corners. Some flew so far in one tiny lifetime that, had they so chosen they could have flown to the Moon and back to Earth again. Some even eschewed the air and, humble as man, felt the Earth beneath their feet, and thought that it was good.
The Angels gift had brought a count of days and the birds marked them well, a time to fly away, a time to return, a time to find a mate, a time to make a nest, a time to lay, a time to hatch, a time to gather food to drop in hopeful mouths, a time to fledge, and a time to fly no more.
Times woven fabric
of fibers torn from God's coat
twisted into now
Once, long ago, in Heaven the Angel Mathilde awoke from her ennui and spoke to God, saying "Lord, each day in heaven is like the last, an eternal bliss of yesterdays." God, easily offended as always, mistook observation for complaint and demanded that Mathilde should leave his sight.This was a prospect that Mathilde could not bear, and so she refused Gods commandment to go. God, quick to anger, as is also his wont, rose and took the Angel in His arms and tossed her mightily from Heaven toward Hell.
As Mathilde left His embrace she clutched at Him, and at all that she was about to lose. Her grasp came up empty save for a small patch of cloth that tore free from Gods sleeve. Tumbling, Hellbent, she slipped past clouds and mountaintops until, passing the beautiful Earth, her hand found purchase on the branch of an apple tree.
Pulling herself upright in that thick tangle of unpruned branches, she saw that she was not alone there. On every branch was a bird, each bird unique, an owl, a dove, a mockingbird, and so many more, beyond count. Heaven, marvelous as it was, had held no birds, and these creatures were a delight to the fallen Angel.
Mathilde took a thread then from her swatch of Gods torn rainment and gave it over gently to a weaverbird there beside her. The bird deftly intertwined it into its half-built nest. At her nape then, the Angel began to sprout tiny feathers, then nascent wings budded and took form at her back. At the end of this transformation, which would have been a wonder to a man, the birds all looked on unblinking at their newborn kin.
In the morning, at first light, all the birds roused and, one by one showed the Angel what wings are for, dispersing to the Earths farthest corners. Some flew so far in one tiny lifetime that, had they so chosen they could have flown to the Moon and back to Earth again. Some even eschewed the air and, humble as man, felt the Earth beneath their feet, and thought that it was good.
The Angels gift had brought a count of days and the birds marked them well, a time to fly away, a time to return, a time to find a mate, a time to make a nest, a time to lay, a time to hatch, a time to gather food to drop in hopeful mouths, a time to fledge, and a time to fly no more.