It’s high noon again and the spirits are warming up, contrary to the more popular myth that they favour the dark of the night. Anyway, it’s always bright and “noony” here in spirit-land, without any sun. Of course not, since they don’t see as we mortals see. Of all possible meeting places (including the Alley of Corruption, the Fortress of Power, the Clubhouse of Sensuality and the Castle of Pride and the Shrine of Religion), they prefer The Hall of Open Hearts down in Hade’s Square of the Dead –even to The Majestic Place by Right Hand on High drive. (Any visitor to the spirit-world may get directions from The Book). Blood-printed invites had been sent to all correspondents –dignitaries from Hell, the spirit-princes over different world regions, and the glorious ones from Heaven Enchanted. And, uh, the demons couldn’t present their invitation cards seeing as they couldn’t resist licking up the blood. Nonetheless, they were allowed in being easy to recognize.
I was one of the few mortals given the privilege of viewing this occasion. I can’t say why I was chosen, but I couldn’t resist an opportunity as totally awesomely thrilling –if I may exclaim –as this.
To pass through the gates, one had to stoop to the lowest and drop whatever baggage one came in with; then the steps rose steeply beyond the humbling entrance, gallant epic steps flanked on either side by the holy angels and the Holy Witnesses –the spirits of the redeemed who had died on earth. The entrant would then move out into an open space, taking in the wonders of the venue. I daresay the astronomical size of the hall beat any I ever thought possible in existence.
On the far side of the auditorium were the seats for the hellish dignitaries. Lucifer himself proudly took the spotlight of the region, flanked by the demonic principalities and spirit-princes of world regions. They were arrayed in dark-misty suits and bloody-red royal robes. There was another entrance on their side. Thankfully I wasn’t led through that!
On an elevated platform overlooking the stage was the Creator-God. The being had no particular form. At least it was hard putting any form because I couldn’t see details beyond the surrounding awe. If it was possible to combine the purity and loveliness of the best fountain or a baby dove, with the liberating aura of the coolest cruising wind or the stallion breath, with the mysterious halo of the mistiest mist or the owl-gaze, with the awe of the greatest, steepest mountain or a living unicorn, with the fierceness of the raging volcano or the injured rattlesnake, with the warmth of a mid-winter summer-sun or the insides of a kangaroo’s pouch, with the most indescribably awesome sight you have ever witnessed, then that will be a start for YOU. As for me, it is already the most awesome (to grossly downplay it) sight I have ever witnessed –the presence of the wholeness of the Creator-God in the Open Heart.
And, oh, the stage was –a word I don’t use indiscriminately even for ladies –BEAU…TIFUL! There were no steps abutting on its boundaries. It seemed to be floating in the air, in the centre of the hall, surrounded by the Abyss of Sin. It seemed it could only be accessed by taking huge leaps of either foolishness or faith. I wouldn’t however want to wager on the former. The stage was whitewashed by Floodlights of the Word; and was so clean I could lick it.
Despite the huge audience this event pulled, there was such order and quietness in the hall. It became frighteningly or chokingly more tense as the procession to the stage began for the main event -THE DANCE OF THE DEAD.
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