Zenith

From afar The Child saw the sleepy town covered in the dawning light. 

The Prophet stood on her right.

“What do you see, Child?”

“On the horizon, I see the sun as it appears,

Moving upward toward the Heaven. 

A sleepy town stands afar,

Awaking into a new day.

Strangers with unknown faces

Appear before my eyes.

What I behold is scary,

Yet, the call of what’s beyond,

The call to the Zenith,

Spurs me on.

Beyond the horizon,

Where Heaven meets earth,

Awaits me my three dear friends:

Mr. Whale with his blue hairless skin,

Mr. Eagle with his hunter’s eyes,

And the lily pad with her heart-shaped face.

Your tender voice,

That whispers in my ear,

The memories that make me giggle,

The strand of trust,

That causes me to move one foot after the other,

Is what I hear.

I see the pinnacle.

It’s leading me toward the x-intercept,

And I hear your voice as you cry out,

Very good, Child, you have done well.

Upward, I’m going,

How far I do not know.

The appointment to be there

Pulls me forward.

It’s the zenith I seek.”

The Child turned toward The Prophet.

“Go ahead, dear Prophet,

Leave your charge.

My task lies ahead.

I’ll meet you around the bend.”

And The Prophet disappeared before her eyes.

The Child walked toward the strange town with its people. The wind caressed her face.

A voice hummed in the wind,

“Well done, my Child,

I’ll see you around the bend,”

A triumphant smile appeared on her face,

And she quickened her pace.

“Thank you, dear Prophet,”

She said,

“I’ll see you around the bend.”

Shalom,

Pat Garcia

Yield

“Yield, Prophet, before the next wave.”

“Whatever for, Child?”

“You’re moving much too fast.”

“Let the waves carry you.”

“I don’t want the waves to carry me, so yield.”

“Step on the waves and pick up your momentum.”

Reluctantly, The Child obeyed and stepped on the waves and came up beside The Prophet.

“Prophet?”

“Yes, Child?”

“What’s momentum?”

“That you know, Child.”

“Velocity?”

“You tell me. Why are you stalling?”

“Everything’s coming at me.”

“Not everything, Child.”

“And what if I decide to yield?”

“The compiling exigencies will force you to handle.”

“Prophet, what are exigencies?”

“That too you know, Child.”

“I need to yield for a moment.”

“You don’t have a moment.”

“But you said…”

“Look, see the land ahead. Isn’t the coastline beautiful?”

The Child closed her eyes to the beauty of the coastline.

“Open your eyes, Child.”

“I don’t want too.”

“I thought you told the lily pad, Mr. Whale, and Mr. Eagle that you’d see them around the bend.”

“Then let’s go around the bend,” said The Child.

“The way around the bend leads through this territory.”

“Isn’t there another way?  Can I yield and check out my bearings?”

“Your bearings are correct.”

“Going this way, how long will it take me?”

“It depends.”

“On…?”

“How often you yield.”

“You mean it’s possible to yield here?”

“Of course, it is. Many travellers have been persuaded to yield; self-debasement, self-hate, self-pity, self-deception, self-complacency, self-reproach, self-criticism and their friends have prevented many from getting around the bend.”

“Oh. This looks difficult.”

The Prophet chuckled and began skipping from wave to wave, spattering The Child with water.

The Child broke out into laughter and playfully spattered him back.

“If I don’t yield,” she said between chuckles, “What happens, Prophet?”

“I’ll meet you around the bend.”

Shalom,

Pat Garcia

X-Intercept

“X-intercept should be here, Prophet.”

“Are you sure?”

“I think so.”

“Look again.”

The Child looked out over the water; gentle waves were hitting her from behind her.

“The horizontal line of the x-axis is moving towards minus.”

“Which way does Mr. Whale want to move, Child?”

“In that direction, Prophet.”

“And Mr. Eagle?”

“He should be enjoying his gliding with the wind.”

“And is he?”

“It doesn’t look like it.”

“So, is your x coordinates correctly ordered, Child?”

“But everything seems right.”

“Is it?”

“You think we’re heading wrongly?”

“What do you think?”

“The sea is calm. I could sleep for ages on the lily pad.”

“Do you want to sleep for ages, Child?”

“You know I don’t.”

“So, what is your x-intercept?”

The Child closed her eyes and mentally checked the x-coordinates. She saw the route she was going would make her miss the x-intercept.  Opening her eyes, she looked at The Prophet.

“X-intercept moves against the wind,” She said solemnly.

“Say goodbye to your friends.  They need the contrary winds to rise and fly and go out into the deep.”

Suddenly, the lily pad turned against the wind and placed The Child on the water.

“Go, lily pad. Take care. I’ll see you around the bend,” She said, standing up.

“Gaaaak, Mr. Eagle, fly. Don’t forget me. See you around the bend.”

She looked at Mr. Whale and then climbed on his back and her tears flowed. He was her very first friend.

“I love you, Mr. Whale.  You’re so special. Don’t forget to meet me around the bend.” And she hugged his body so far as her arms could reach.

                                               

***

“What now, Prophet?”

“We’ve got a two days journey ahead of us, Child.”

“And then?”

“I’ll meet you around the bend.”

Shalom,

Pat Garcia

Wade

“Woo woo,

Dee bop bop,

Woo woo,

Dee bop da,

Wade,” yowled The Child.

“What are you doing, Child?”

“Wading, Prophet. Just wading my feet through the water.”

“Then, wade, Child.”

“Prophet? Yesterday was the hammer, wasn’t it?”

“Yesterday has passed, Child. Today, you're wading.”

“And what will I do tomorrow?”

“Is the water warm?”

“No,” The Child said, and in her melancholy voice, she yowled like a motherless panther,

“Woo woo,

Dee bop bop,

Woo woo,

Dee bop da,

Wade.”

She looked in the clear blue water; time was moving quicker than she desired. Soon Mr. Whale and Mr. Eagle would be on their way and the lily pad would be in a nice cosy cove for restoration.

"Now that I'm used to everything I have to do something else,” The Child mumbled softly to herself.

“Did you say something?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Yes, it does matter, Child. You matter. You need to practice what you’ve learned.”

“Why can't we keep going? It's so nice just you and me, and the lily pad, and Mr. Eagle, and Mr. Whale?”

“Do you think you would be contented wading your feet in the water all the time?”

“Will I see them again?”

“They’ll meet you around the bend.”

“When will that be?”

“Whenever you get there, Child.”

The Child sighed. 

“Thank you, Mr. Whale.”  

“Gaaaak,” she mimicked to Mr. Eagle.

“Love you, Lily Pad.” And her tears fell.

She lifted her head toward Heaven, and in her pain, from the depth of her soul, she yowled,

“Woo woo,

Dee bop bop,

Woo woo,

Dee bop da,

Wade in de water,

Wade in de water, children,

Wade in de water,

God gonna trouble de water.”

“Oh yeah,” shouted The Prophet,

“Keep wading, Child.

God gonna trouble de water.”

Shalom,

Pat Garcia