The Cave

His shaking whispers splashed around me, “I am strong, I can handle this.”

Deep in the belly of the Earth, we walked in darkness.  Yellow flames danced from our torches like ancient dancers.  Red embers jumped and glowed in brief arcs.  Angry eyes blinking into the darkness as they fell.  The wet stone hissed in discomfort.  Muffled silence offered a thick muted rocky scream all around us.  He never took his gaze off of the ground, for if he had, he would see the dried river of bones and screaming skulls lodged into the rock above our heads.  My companion turned to me, his face fitted firm with fear, “Do you suppose the devil is near?”

“I have been with you the whole time,” I whispered as I drank the fire from his torch, and ripped his soul from his warm bones.  A cloud of white smoke clawed at the walls… swirled, grew dark, and was drown in the forgotten void.  I filled my stomach with his flesh and placed his bones into ceiling with the others.  By then, I had already forgotten his name.

. . .

© 2018 Zachary W. Gilbert

Seduction of the Sacrifice

To conjure evil, to hurt another, to kick God in the face, is to be human.  Yet, sin is expensive.  It costs something.  The bull brought for sacrifice can no longer breed quality livestock.  Remember, that God demands the best of the best, to forgive the sin, that is the worst of the worst.  So why do we ask for the Bull back.  Sin, does damage.  Wounded hands, thorned brow, whipped back, loss of so much blood, and death.  We trade a sacrifice with God for forgiveness.  The magnitude of sin is measured by the magnitude of the loss of the sacrifice.  We beg God for forgiveness, yet sometimes we ask to get back the sacrifice.  The vile vomit that God pulled us up from by answering another prayer, we ask to go back into that viscous chunky rot to regain something we think we have lost.  To acknowledge the sacrifice is to move away from the sin.  Perhaps a job, a really good job is left by choice because of an intolerance for stealing, anger evoked, or a time commitment that causes a disconnect from family or church, or affair with a co-worker.  Whatever the case, if God delivers and calls for a sacrifice, it is over.  Done.  I don’t believe that God would ever call for a marriage, a church, or a child.  But Christians must realize that he may demand a building, money, pride, jobs, cars, perhaps even health.  Sin is expensive, and the bill was so high that only the son of the judge could offer a sacrifice to exceed the magnitude of evil.  Accept it and honor it.  To beg for the bull in prayer is to insult the ultimate sacrifice.  Jesus doesn’t belong to us.  We didn’t earn his sacrifice, or even deserve it.  He offered up himself, all we can do is accept, and allow sin to be murdered on an alter and burned, never to be tasted of again.

Copyright © 2018 Zachary W. Gilbert

 

Fate of Bones in Darkness

Pulling my hand from the pit I felt the dominant breath of evil, that lurked deep below.  Hot wind burned my face, whipped my peppered hair, and murdered tears before they could roll.  Darkness flew up and grabbed me like a thick blanket of melted rubber.   My flesh became devoured with invisible teeth and an unquenchable thirst drank the powdery remains of my crushed bones.

. . .

Copyright © 2018 Zachary W. Gilbert

The night I Disobeyed the Demon

Pressing the button to silence the radio, I drove on in the thick darkness.  The road like a frozen river of stone.  Lights like lost souls drifting, steady towards home.  I asked my Creator to sit with me, I felt as if he was listening to me in the empty passenger seat.  With tires howling and wind lashing at my car I asked for his help.  I said I was sorry for telling him last, for fighting on my own, for saturating in evil for so long.  I drank a tall cold glass of water that night as I went to bed.  As I slept, a swirling and glowing microscopic lightning danced peacefully in my brain.   Glowing threads, like little fingers, clean my mind.  They are pulling a sticky putrid sludge loose from my memory.  An angry storm of black clouds and red lightning falls out of my ear as I sleep.  Scales covered in oil.  A screaming angry invader writing in protest.  Rendered powerless in its eviction, it falls.  Shadows rule minds that choose to stand with backs turned toward the light.   A yellow warm listening light, when called upon, when unblocked, burns demon flesh to ruin.

Copyright © 2017 Zachary W. Gilbert

Grip of Darkness

I found myself being fitted for a 500 dollar suit.   My sister in-laws wedding would be including my son as the ring bearer. At the time he was only a year old.  The sleeves of the gray of the suit were about 8 inches (20 centimeters) too short.  The salesman laughed and said, “It’s ok, just never put your arms up.”

The tentacles of evil, are strong and painful.  They wrap around hearts and wring painful emotions out.  If their hold persists, then the heart turns dark, and becomes lost within its pain.  Evil will always say, “After assessing myself, I have discovered that I am not that bad.  I am a good.  If you feel discomfort, then you are just too sensitive.  This is just the way things are.”  I am sure this word track is as old as humanity.  The abuser will self asses, then blame the victim.  Their laughter shakes the tentacles, amplifies the hurt and breaks the heart.

Why is God, the last one to know?  I ask myself this many times.  I gripe alone in my car.  I tell the tale to any willing ear I can find.  Evil’s conquest of my heart, my moral, and my life.  Yet, I don’t tell my creator.  My friend.  I wonder how he feels when I try to steal his job.  When I say with my actions that I am better equipped to dislodge the tentacles than the expert.  Evil laughs at my efforts and tightens its grip.  It hopes that I will never call upon God.  Alone, I am defeated.  I begin to believe the lies.  I become evil myself.

Then I make a choice.  My wife, my sweet angel, tells me to call upon God.  “Let go of this junk!” she yells at me.  She yells, because she so passionately loves me.  The solution to all of my problems is so simple, and she knows it.  What a stubborn fool I am.  I wrestle with my pride, as my heart grows tentacles of its own.  The dosage of pain, hurt, and evil is saturated.  It leaks out of my mind, my words, and my life.

Alone in the car, my soul covered in putrid rot, I ask God if he will ride with me.  I fight the tears.  My eyes are hot.  I am so ashamed I can only whisper.  I clear my textbooks and coffee shop napkins off of the passenger seat.  “I need to talk to you,” I say.  I turn off the radio.  I power down my phone.  I am alone with my creator.  I roll up the tinted windows, “I don’t know what to do.  I have been poisoned for so long.  I offer up a punch list of my own failures and sorrow.  I ask for forgiveness.  I reluctantly ask him to forgive others.”  I cry in silence.  I tell him about a crossroads, about difficult decisions.  I feel like he listens.  The tentacles become brittle in a moment.  I feel like evil is purged out of my body, locked in my tears that fall on my shirt.  The pain becomes blurry.  I hear answers to my direct and specific questions, I uttered alone Answers light yellow light, shine within the smiling commentary of the people I meet for the rest of the day.  The feeling of relief and protection is like a warm blanket wrapped around me after I have drifted in a cold dark ocean for days.  I look up to the sky, the tug of my heart being pulled into the heavens is almost magnetic.

Copyright 2017 © Zachary W. Gilbert

 

Life’s Elixer

Toxicity of evil, served in a rusted goblet,

a chalice decorated with bug carcasses,

that are called jewels.

Sugars, coloring, and  soothing words,

say, “Drink, drink, drink!”

Evil, though often denied, is never,

good.

Behind the heavy velvet curtain,

evil minds marinate in a cauldron

of putrid rot.

A voice takes the stage that tells

tales of light, and banter,

yet the floorboards,

are bloated with black, mossy,

mold.

Why not consider,

serving another human,

a glass of encouragement,

a clear clean glass,

filtered mountain water,

for pure unencumbered love,

is life’s only elixir.

Copyright © 2017 Zachary W Gilbert