Just a fable on War , Conquest and Empire. |
The High Altar.. the very pinnacle of Empire- an incandescent blaze, impaled in the glare of a million beams. Beneath it - the Anointed One – rapt ... utterly still … Then - swifter than lightning, he whirls from the Altar - in that instant- the whole world falls hushed. Body all a-quiver , eyes hard as gimlets, his mailed fist swings up to the skies. In a voice dark with thunder , he flings down the gauntlet- and the echoes resound to the ends of the earth: ‘A Holy Crusade to vanquish the infidel hordes! Our One True Sword shall smash a million scimitars! Our Holy Cross shall prevail forever !. And Democracy - our true and living gospel shall reign supreme- for ever and ever..!” The Chosen People , Keepers of the Divine Flame – Beloved of God -and Blessed by Mammon- rally to this clarion call from on high. Their ‘heils’ resound, rending the skies, making the very heavens tremble. Huddled beyond the pale, the poor,downtrodden millions- in utter terror quailing - wait for the axe to fall ... The streets of Empire reverberate to the tramp of marching legions- battle standards held aloft, flags whipping in the breeze- yet again. The flower of the youth of Empire- trained to kill and give no quarter, gripped by a raging thirst for action, seized by a crazed lust for blood- strut down to their ships . The awesome armada of Empire, slices through towering billows , relentlessly bearing down upon the ancient lands, a world away - where the millions cower - numbed beyond terror, the only prayer on their lips - a prayer for the dying... ...Grieving through His Infinite Agony, The Christ whispers from the Cross - “ Father forgive them for they know not what they do..” ……………………. O Anointed One - where is the glory , the sanctity - nay - the nobility of your Crusade ? In the name of your God, your armies- the mightest yet in the annals of Man- unleash the furies of Armageddon, on a people .. so utterly defenseless , so forsaken. Your monstrous leviathans crush and grind into dust all that lies within their path - ravaging ... despoiling.. laying waste an ancient land. Your paladins, soaring the skies above- whoop through chandelles , whirl through Immelmans, as the missiles they fire strike home- blasting cities .. towns ... hamlets - to smithereens- reducing all to cinder and shards. Carnage savage and brutal - horrific, beyond measure- has been wreaked on the aged .. the infirm .. the innocent Bodies ,in their thousands, lie strewn about the land. Their life blood - gushing forth in cataracts, surging over in torrents- steeps the blasted earth to its very core. Each drop of oil, O Anointed One, that your Empire drains out- shall henceforth be forever stained with the blood of these glorious martyrs. ...In His Infinite Compassion The Christ murmurs to the broken bodies of the hundred thousand innocents , lying limp and lifeless at the foot of His Cross- “ ..this night you shall be with me in Paradise.” …………………… Crosses in their thousands , with the lashed .. bleeding bodies of the condemned , nailed to each- line the Imperial Way to the hill, that crowns the City of Gold. Sybarites- each more richly caparisoned than the rest, cavort in gay ,depraved abandon , lurching and swaying ,around the crosses - their gold-flecked tresses flaying the feet of the condemned. At his high altar, on the hill The Anointed One stands- Elated ...transported ... rapturous .. he gazes at his Chosen Ones- thronging the concourse far beneath. Waves of thunderous applause surge towards him- ripped from a million throats- all frenetically cheering as one. Supreme - in his moment of triumph, he raises his hands to the heavens- in a flash , the vast crowds fall hushed and silent. “Our Father ,” he intones , “Who art in Heaven… ….Thy Will be done.” ... Before His open sepulchre wreathed in Glory and Majesty, The Risen Christ stands... Yet, wracked by boundless Sorrow , He draws back - whispering - ever so tenderly ...lovingly, the words immortal : “ Noli Me Tangere” Whirling through the dark immensities, the little planet- that an instant before, had been hued an exquisite cerulean- flecked by delicate wisps of white – flares ...brighter than a thousand suns. …Wasn't the War - wondrous Wasn't the Carnage - cathartic Wasn't the Savagery - oh so Sublime... |