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Pre-History by Kevin Hadley One day there comes a time when your younger years begin to speak the truth to you. [592 words]
Hello, Obsession. My Name Is Paranoia. by Michelle Bernard The deceivingly innocent penguins attack. [653 words]
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Cast The First Stone by Desi Williams - [244 words]
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What Is It With Fecamds? by Kennedy O Obohwemu - [472 words]
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The Differance Between Nigger And Nigga-From A White Person's Point Of View by Bryan King Two of the almost same words, that ... [266 words]
Homosexual Couples Should Be Allowed To Marry by Shaun Stone This is an essay about the legalization of heterosexual marriage. [726 words]
G.Gun by Bryan King Gangs Get U Nowhere. [121 words]
A Writer's High by Bryan King This explains why people are addicted to writing. [175 words]
A Grandfather's Love by Mddoc The wonderful experience of having your first grandchild. [211 words]
The Meaning Of Love by Cj Schmowling Essay on the realization of a cheating lover [1,268 words]
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Same-Sex Marriage by Robbie Malcolm A persuasive essay arguing for the rights of couples to have same-sex marriages. [620 words]
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Late September by The Good Girl Remember when the sparks used to fly? [416 words]
Gods Artwork And Power by Leo Rose This is what I think about God's artwork and his power and mercy. They are short but th... [416 words]
Eclipses And Popes
Does Curiosity Kill? by Leah Russell I describe my experience with whitewater kayaking and my understanding with curiosity. [417 words]
ĎI'm Not A Christian, But I Play One On Sunday' by James Snyder After more than three decades of church ministry, I have come t... [890 words]
ĎAnd How Do We Feel This Morning?' by James Snyder Without question, going to the hospital is teamwork from the time you arrive... [909 words]
Who Has The Greatest Job In The World? by James Snyder I have, in my opinion, the world's perfect job. Just look at the evidenc... [963 words]
The African Playwright: Old Stories, Present Day Realities by Adesola Orimalade A short essay that reviews the relevance of plays wr... [1,162 words]
How To Cash In On Your ĎAilment Capital' by James Snyder Right after the president won his re-election bid for the White House,... [926 words]
Breaking Morals And Ethics, An Analysis Of Lolita By V. Nabokov by Keivn Luk Humbert was a fictional character created by th... [1,811 words]
Answer Right by Glendora Rider Short, 125 word commentary. [118 words]
The One Great Sermon That Got Away by James Snyder Most people don't realize ministers are obligated to prepare and preach one ... [886 words]
The Four Of Clubs by Kevin Myrick Second part to the Four of Diamonds. It has been called "a bible." [2,726 words]
The Debunking The Dreaded Shopping Spree by Steven R. Kravsow The English language has approximately 500,000 words, and these words,... [1,715 words]
Nurses, Bedpans And X-Rated Hospital Gowns by James Snyder Tuesday last I awoke from my nightly slumber with terrific pain in m... [923 words]
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Moral Values - Who Needs Them? by Richard Koss An essay. [771 words]
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TITLE (EDIT)
Eclipses And Popes
DESCRIPTION
All of the talk in these quarters of late has been of eclipses and the way they appear like flagpoles upon which great events fly.
[647 words]
TITLE KEYWORD
Spiritual
AUTHOR
Kevin Hadley
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
I live in Warsaw, have a little house in Buzyska and like magic
[February 2013]
AUTHOR'S OTHER TITLES (2)
Orlando Flores Is Dead (Short Stories) The enigmatic Orlando Flores links two moments in a couple's life. [3,321 words] [Spiritual]
Pre-History (Essays) One day there comes a time when your younger years begin to speak the truth to you. [592 words] [Fable]
Eclipses And Popes
Kevin Hadley

Up in the sky the moon is tiptoeing into place. Down below they emerge from dusty rooms and brightly-lit studios to discuss the meaning. It is God taking away his light, one doom-laden voice claims with a smile. It is God hiding his light, reminding us, comes the reply. Donít you see the corona, those powerful beams of light creeping out around the edges. He is reminding us. It is not man who decreed that you must take something away to appreciate it.

In cells of forgotten monasteries, grim-faced friars, faces frozen by centuries of silence, eyes enlivened by an age of dreams and visions, feel only the certainty that they have been waiting for this all along.

With a magicianís slyness they pull theories from sleeves. With a farmerís frankness they breed theories from theories. With great gulps of air they fill their own lungs before turning their attention to breathing life into the corpses of theories. They roll back heavy stones and resurrect theories. And all of the time the produce nothing more than the mystical trill of their own voices.

The Chinese fret because dragons are devouring their sun. They call far and wide upon the dancers and bell ringers to chase the fire-breathers back across the mountains, to entice them into drinking great rivers to snuff out their fires. The Czechs feel the chill hand of their ice giants embracing them, the sworn enemies of the father in the sky who breathes new life every spring, every morning. The giants march on across the sky, treading unawares on weary stars, all the happier that they can conquer their foe in his most hopeful season. The Romans see a poisoned sun, dying, having scented hemlock on his rays from first light, whilst waiting for the moonís approach. The Jews are in turmoil. Someone has forgotten the eulogy for the scholar and they canít find out the scholarís name, in which house he lays, or from which mouth silence begat silence when it should have been performing its sacred duty.

And the Catholics? They talk of symmetry, of the perfectly proportioned figure of the universe. Surely they do. He will be buried under a sepulchral solar light, a voice pipes up above the laments. And he was born under the sign of the eclipse. Forgetting for a moment, they search their memories and voice their hesitant theories. Is it a good omen or a bad one? He questions. An eclipse, what does it mean? An eclipse in South America, what does it mean? Knocking over bookshelves, scattering tables in their haste, they scramble for books, wishing they had read them before, touched by annoyance that they had not been expecting this.

Aloof, somewhere lurking in the last rays of a fading sun, waiting for the penumbral light to dance across his face, to hold him frozen, to pass away, he skulks around. The scientist. He has his speech. His rational arguments. He is prepared to stand up and explain that all of this is predictable from the beginning of time until the end of time and that we petty humans, who come from nothing and return to nothing and mean nothing, merely fit coincidentally into the grand timetable. Why does he skulk, the Great Man? Because, as he rehearses his arguments, as he reaches high and digs low for the fluting notes and weighty tones that give his words musical perfection, he is suddenly struck dumb by one thought. If I am so right, then why does nobody want to listen? Why are all of these mystical hotheads, climbing from their deathbeds with overheating brains, more interested in belief than in science? And in his great sadness, with his eyes following the path of the moonshadow through the city streets, he begins work on a new theory, the theory of faith, not yet aware that it requires no explanation.

 

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COPYRIGHT NOTICE
© 2005 Kevin Hadley
STORYMANIA PUBLICATION DATE
April 2005
NUMBER OF TIMES TITLE VIEWED
1551
 

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