The Air Tells a Story

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
for my parents

Submitted: June 05, 2008

A A A | A A A

Submitted: June 05, 2008




On trial the cherub sat before a panel of deities.  The Air tells the story better than I ever could so I'll let him.  Their faces were solemn.  They were far more intimidating than they were embracing, but that's the flaw with gods.The eldest deity spoke first.


"Where is tomorrow?"


The cherub replied

"I don't know."

"We have reason to believe that it is with you. 

This jury is just and truth sits as judge. 

 Delay us no longer or punishment follows."

Punishment is a myth.  At least as we know it. One starves until they steal and we punish the thief.  The penalty of hunger won't do?


"I assure you I do not know.

What gives you such certainty?"


"You are the only one with

any kind of motive to carry out."


"Knowing full well tomorrow's

 are numbered and irreplaceable 

I could not and would not. 

As for motive I believe that I

have no reason to care for

one tomorrow over another..."




" whatever method or

reasoning ..."




" not method or reason but

senseless and random..."


Every word, mere syllable, felt like a hawk pecking at the diety's eyes until he could see no more the point in holding back his scream. 




The distance between the cherub's eyes mimicked the distance between his chin and the floor.  It had lessened by half at the thunderclap that was the deity's irritation.

It was pointless to lie to the god's.  They know what you are going to do before you do it, then expect you to ask for forgiveness of what they could have prevented. 

"Where is tomorrow?"

Humbleness landed on the cherub with the grace of my wife, the wind.

" Is this a court of

truth as you say?"


"Veracity is

our sovereign."


"May I ask you a question, 

then and expect the truth?"


"You may."


"Is it true that I am to

 be born tomorrow?"

The cherub felt almost like one of the gods for knowing this pause was going to happen and the reply to his question.  Nor was there any surprise when Silence the Coward fled the brave Word. 



"I stole tomorrow. I

stole tomorrow

because I do not

 want to live there. 

It is the coldest

 orbit of grace. 

A place where

misers and gluttons rule. 

Where greed is

worshipped, punished,

admired and despised. 

I have never felt

shame.  I don't want 

to live where it

 exists.  You're sending

me to the home of

death and worry.

The pernicious brother

 and sister. What

is mortality?  Does it

creep over you?  What

is it to bleed?  What

possible service would

it be to know for myself?


I've heard of and want

no part of it.  To be

so destitute that gravity

exists where there should

 be none and exerts

 it's force on emotions

 that are gone.  What

agonizing weight that

 must create . 

What of disgust?

What of failure?

What of guilt?

I know not what

they are.

What of spite?

What of hate?" 


The cherub had not broken eye contact with the elder god the entire time and knew his pleas were futile.  In defeat, the cherub pulled the stolen tomorrow from his pouch.  With hand outstretched the brilliant tomorrow shined in his naked palm.


"Well, what say

 you of hate and

death and guilt

 and shame!

 I am

ignorant of all.

I would steal tomorrow

to remain so."


"I say of such,

let them be your guides.

Let them be your teachers.

You are not being born

to learn of these.  You

are being born

to learn of love." 


At this moment the elder god reached out his hand and took tomorrow back from the cherub.  If humbleness came like wind, than rain brought sleep.

The cherub awoke in the arms of two that glowed so brightly with love he forgot completely he was ever immortal, or a thief. 

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