MORDECHAI
'I walked through doors for the first third
of my life - passing through both wood
and glass as if nothing. No miracle was involved,
mind you, just an attendant grace of G-d within me.
Having need to pause, a genuflection always hard
to do, I bent at the waist to the morning Lords of
light and air and Nature. Since time immemorial
Jahweh Himself had been a volcanic God - a
steaming hiss of fire and flame pouring down
from a mountain. We begged Him to speak,
He spit back at us with fire and rocks and torment.
As we really meant nothing to Him - just beggar bastards
meant for His hands - it little mattered what we did.
Incredible, stinking meat sacrifices. Bloody
throat-slittings of screaming livestock. Even
the sacrifices of each other - daughters and
sons on despicable stone slabs. Screaming of
death and the smokes of sacrificial fires!
What the Hell was it all for? He, above us,
did nothing - complained of our stench,
grew bored with our clamor. Rivers of
blood running through platforms of
dead bodies. And finally, this G-d, this
cursed, bastardized Numen of our
own creation, paced us off, left
His garden, cut us loose, and
simply disappeared, leaving
somehow no trace behind.'
'I walked through doors for the first third
of my life - passing through both wood
and glass as if nothing. No miracle was involved,
mind you, just an attendant grace of G-d within me.
Having need to pause, a genuflection always hard
to do, I bent at the waist to the morning Lords of
light and air and Nature. Since time immemorial
Jahweh Himself had been a volcanic God - a
steaming hiss of fire and flame pouring down
from a mountain. We begged Him to speak,
He spit back at us with fire and rocks and torment.
As we really meant nothing to Him - just beggar bastards
meant for His hands - it little mattered what we did.
Incredible, stinking meat sacrifices. Bloody
throat-slittings of screaming livestock. Even
the sacrifices of each other - daughters and
sons on despicable stone slabs. Screaming of
death and the smokes of sacrificial fires!
What the Hell was it all for? He, above us,
did nothing - complained of our stench,
grew bored with our clamor. Rivers of
blood running through platforms of
dead bodies. And finally, this G-d, this
cursed, bastardized Numen of our
own creation, paced us off, left
His garden, cut us loose, and
simply disappeared, leaving
somehow no trace behind.'
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