Touched by God
Touched By God
Standing on the three foot wide beam, his balance was perfect… But what if he lost balance and fell? His body would descend to the grey-blue waters. And slap into the wet concrete surface. The impact would fracture a multitude of bones. The shock would splinter the vertebrae of his spine. His ribs would snap and possibly pierce his lungs and he would die of internal asphyxiation. However, if he managed to survive the plummet, it is possible that he would drown… he would perish either way.
Jumping was not his plan at all. But if people noticed what he was doing at the top of the bridge, they would automatically assume the worst. People do that – you know? They always assume the worst. He might be odd for doing such a thing, but he never thought himself as insane. Nevertheless they would never try to understand the so called, “crazy man.”
His shoes barely gripped the surface of the salt worn metal. His arms outstretched like the wings of the seagulls that wind surfed next to him. He had spent an hour climbing to the top, and it was impossible to get down. In fact, he didn’t want to get down. There was no reason to. Cool air gripped his tongue as he shouted, “I am free. God, I am free!”
Pure white luminosity parted through post-storm clouds and fell on his venerable stature. Arms still extended embracing the incandescent energy of the day-light star. All troubles unknown to us finally dissolved into the atmosphere alongside the receding clouds. This was his way of connecting with God, through feeling the warmth of the sun after a storm. The kind of light that emitted through rain was the purest light to be touched by. Like being touched by God.
The rain and the sun were the essence of God. He was charged by the exhilaration that pulsed into his veins through finger tips. He looked out at the city; his eyes gleamed at the currents that flickered as the waters moved down below. At that moment he thought about it… he thought about taking one step off the edge. If he died, he wouldn’t have to wait at the golden gates. His soul would be cradled in the hand of God and lifted to the clouds. That would be freedom, wouldn’t it? He shook himself from that senseless day-dream.
Jumping was not his plan at all. But if people noticed what he was doing at the top of the bridge, they would automatically assume the worst. People do that – you know? They always assume the worst. He might be odd for doing such a thing, but he never thought himself as insane. Nevertheless they would never try to understand the so called, “crazy man.”
His shoes barely gripped the surface of the salt worn metal. His arms outstretched like the wings of the seagulls that wind surfed next to him. He had spent an hour climbing to the top, and it was impossible to get down. In fact, he didn’t want to get down. There was no reason to. Cool air gripped his tongue as he shouted, “I am free. God, I am free!”
Pure white luminosity parted through post-storm clouds and fell on his venerable stature. Arms still extended embracing the incandescent energy of the day-light star. All troubles unknown to us finally dissolved into the atmosphere alongside the receding clouds. This was his way of connecting with God, through feeling the warmth of the sun after a storm. The kind of light that emitted through rain was the purest light to be touched by. Like being touched by God.
The rain and the sun were the essence of God. He was charged by the exhilaration that pulsed into his veins through finger tips. He looked out at the city; his eyes gleamed at the currents that flickered as the waters moved down below. At that moment he thought about it… he thought about taking one step off the edge. If he died, he wouldn’t have to wait at the golden gates. His soul would be cradled in the hand of God and lifted to the clouds. That would be freedom, wouldn’t it? He shook himself from that senseless day-dream.