The reader of this journal, who of course does not exist, neither now nor in any possible future, for I am to die here in this oasis and before these pages shall again be found they will have crumbled away in the same fashion as my body, may wonder why a span of months exists between entries in this journal, especially considering the punctuality of entry previously displayed. Well, when I tell of my predicament you shall cease to wonder.
The night after I first traced that bedazzling image in berries the spirit of the pool once again entered me and empowered me to create. Though all the experiences that night were the same, that is to say totally and utterly different, for each second's interaction with this power from on high brings manifold revelations into the heart of man, when I woke in the morning I was not merely shocked at what I had been purposed to draw, but dismayed to my fullest extent.
I had drawn not one, but two images of glory! And dark their meaning! I needed no spirit to help interpret these two images for me. Though still I could not read the authoritative script, the message was obvious.
The first depicts none other than the hard shelled tortoise, sitting smugly upon a high stool, proud and glaring. The second one shows, with such subtlety and elegance as to smite me down in shame at my imbecility, the relationship between the high powers of the universe and my humble position. There are two men on the left, and in due order they are passing a message, first from the messenger of the high courts of heaven to the messenger that sits in the pool of the oasis, and then finally to the lowly creature that sits on the right doggedly hiding its face.
These two images stared at me from my pages and I began to gasp as I grasped their meaning. They were the two choices of my life, the two choices that never should have been had it not been for my misdeeds already! They screamed, “Choose ye a way, child of dust and smoke! Choose ye which path to follow, for your ambivalence in duty has brought this doom upon yourself.”
The tortoise represented me as I had been thus far in the oasis, as hard of heart as the shell of the tortoise, believing that one day's penance could right such an act as I had committed when I engaged in that day of gluttony, and yet sitting down thinking my work was done, rather than being upon my knees in a posture of supplication.
This was my first choice, to remain the shelled reptile, useless in deed and allowing nothing to penetrate my hard exterior.
The second, let no man say the obvious, choice was presented thus: I could become that humiliated beast in the other image, fit to serve and understand the messages of heaven. But at what cost! The cup of woe I must drink sat there right beside! How full it was! The sorrows I would endure would be unrivaled in human experience, and my life would be work and untarried effort.
No man may judge me when I tell that I have sat here these months staring each day at these two images and making no decision. Now the time has come, for I receive dreams in the night of a shrinking river, and this very night the river ran dry. I may no longer hold my decision any longer. Which shall it be? The morning will know.
The night after I first traced that bedazzling image in berries the spirit of the pool once again entered me and empowered me to create. Though all the experiences that night were the same, that is to say totally and utterly different, for each second's interaction with this power from on high brings manifold revelations into the heart of man, when I woke in the morning I was not merely shocked at what I had been purposed to draw, but dismayed to my fullest extent.
I had drawn not one, but two images of glory! And dark their meaning! I needed no spirit to help interpret these two images for me. Though still I could not read the authoritative script, the message was obvious.
The first depicts none other than the hard shelled tortoise, sitting smugly upon a high stool, proud and glaring. The second one shows, with such subtlety and elegance as to smite me down in shame at my imbecility, the relationship between the high powers of the universe and my humble position. There are two men on the left, and in due order they are passing a message, first from the messenger of the high courts of heaven to the messenger that sits in the pool of the oasis, and then finally to the lowly creature that sits on the right doggedly hiding its face.
These two images stared at me from my pages and I began to gasp as I grasped their meaning. They were the two choices of my life, the two choices that never should have been had it not been for my misdeeds already! They screamed, “Choose ye a way, child of dust and smoke! Choose ye which path to follow, for your ambivalence in duty has brought this doom upon yourself.”
The tortoise represented me as I had been thus far in the oasis, as hard of heart as the shell of the tortoise, believing that one day's penance could right such an act as I had committed when I engaged in that day of gluttony, and yet sitting down thinking my work was done, rather than being upon my knees in a posture of supplication.
This was my first choice, to remain the shelled reptile, useless in deed and allowing nothing to penetrate my hard exterior.
The second, let no man say the obvious, choice was presented thus: I could become that humiliated beast in the other image, fit to serve and understand the messages of heaven. But at what cost! The cup of woe I must drink sat there right beside! How full it was! The sorrows I would endure would be unrivaled in human experience, and my life would be work and untarried effort.
No man may judge me when I tell that I have sat here these months staring each day at these two images and making no decision. Now the time has come, for I receive dreams in the night of a shrinking river, and this very night the river ran dry. I may no longer hold my decision any longer. Which shall it be? The morning will know.
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