A Reckoning of Angels and Trees
By Little Miss Aki
Diligence in matters of temperance, patience, and desire for glory is what drives most men to madness. They become connosieurs or quacks, slaves or kings, loons or men of honor.
In personal travels, as a connosieur, Men of Honor are hard to come by. The existence of a few in this world is a tribute to the human desire to always set itself higher in the chain of life. Raising themselves by their bootstraps, Men of Honor drag themselves above the average, and then above the above average, always striving for the heavens.
These Men of Honor, perhaps are fallen Angels trying to get back into good graces with some Almighty God. Perhaps they seek to leave their legacy behind as one of legend like King Arthur and Constantine. They are the stars the average mortals watch and covet and wish to catch in their nets late at night.
True Men of Honor rarely are Kings, or merely become rulers of others by the request and necessity others force upon them. Those who know these Men are not only blessed, but are silhouetted by the glow of these great people. They cling to the coat-tails of these warriors, these strong and moral people, in hopes to gain a step up above the average.
In the end the good, the bad, the average, the glorified, are all trying to reach some kind of spiritual satisfaction in which they can nod and pat themselves on the back.
The Kings, the Warriors, the Men of such vast Nobility, do not sit back and relax at the end of their goal. They give a glance from the mountain top they have scaled and then get back to work. No time to enjoy the view, there is still a long way to go.
As a person who has loved these people as bystander and friend and lover, I can safely say that they are not good for my own health. The worry and care I have for their well-being (for they keep none for themselves) is like watching a child walking a tight rope 100 feet off the ground on a windy day. You are certain of their failure and yet still they take a step forward into that uncertainty, as though destined to prove you and everyone else staring upwards, wrong.
I am a different person from those around me in that, though I am Average, I do not gasp in awe when I see the unthinkable. I freeze from my physical to my soul and my mind roars out towards the Heavens don't you dare let him fall or you will have me to deal with. Many times, this is sufficient for my blood pressure as I watch these wonderous folk march onwards against the odds. Do not let them fall. I am a support beam, I am the person who runs out under the great corporate buildings of glass on Black Friday, arms outstretched, to catch the brave men diving from the 14th floor.
I am the tree that catches the few Angels of our time as they lose their footing and tumble earthwards. I set them on their feet and give them words of encouragement and then go back to worrying that they will fall again. I worry more that when they do fall, I will not be there to catch. I will be a second too late and stare dumbfounded at the mangled body on the pavement, still clinging their briefcase and wife's photograph.
No. I am not a paramedic. I am not a police officer, fire fighter, tax collector, or otherwise. I don't have any truly special talents, anyone can do what I do. I just have the gall and desire to do it first. And I know personally one of these Noble Men who eternally climb against the grain, the odds, the wind, and destiny herself to a higher tomorrow.
Their drive, their stamina, it confuses me. Why do they go to such lengths? Irregardless of the reason, I remain loyal and faithful in all ways to assisting in their goals, trying desperately to get them to let me help. They are very stubborn people. Disregarding their own safety, running out under the 14th floor along side me, catching who they can, resuscitating who may live. I am not nearly on their level, but in my own way, I am a distorted reflection.
I am the tree that gives them shade. I am the pool of water they look into and see their reflection peering back in honest reality. It is the only way I can tell them
Yes, you are doing the right thing and I am proud to love you even if you do not even know my name.
It could be me, but I would say there is a shortage of these people in todays world. More and more of shade is not used, more often is that still lake left unvisited and the Noble characters of whom I speak are too high to see and they will not be back.
That is why I cry at night.
Diligence in matters of temperance, patience, and desire for glory is what drives most men to madness. They become connosieurs or quacks, slaves or kings, loons or men of honor.
In personal travels, as a connosieur, Men of Honor are hard to come by. The existence of a few in this world is a tribute to the human desire to always set itself higher in the chain of life. Raising themselves by their bootstraps, Men of Honor drag themselves above the average, and then above the above average, always striving for the heavens.
These Men of Honor, perhaps are fallen Angels trying to get back into good graces with some Almighty God. Perhaps they seek to leave their legacy behind as one of legend like King Arthur and Constantine. They are the stars the average mortals watch and covet and wish to catch in their nets late at night.
True Men of Honor rarely are Kings, or merely become rulers of others by the request and necessity others force upon them. Those who know these Men are not only blessed, but are silhouetted by the glow of these great people. They cling to the coat-tails of these warriors, these strong and moral people, in hopes to gain a step up above the average.
In the end the good, the bad, the average, the glorified, are all trying to reach some kind of spiritual satisfaction in which they can nod and pat themselves on the back.
The Kings, the Warriors, the Men of such vast Nobility, do not sit back and relax at the end of their goal. They give a glance from the mountain top they have scaled and then get back to work. No time to enjoy the view, there is still a long way to go.
As a person who has loved these people as bystander and friend and lover, I can safely say that they are not good for my own health. The worry and care I have for their well-being (for they keep none for themselves) is like watching a child walking a tight rope 100 feet off the ground on a windy day. You are certain of their failure and yet still they take a step forward into that uncertainty, as though destined to prove you and everyone else staring upwards, wrong.
I am a different person from those around me in that, though I am Average, I do not gasp in awe when I see the unthinkable. I freeze from my physical to my soul and my mind roars out towards the Heavens don't you dare let him fall or you will have me to deal with. Many times, this is sufficient for my blood pressure as I watch these wonderous folk march onwards against the odds. Do not let them fall. I am a support beam, I am the person who runs out under the great corporate buildings of glass on Black Friday, arms outstretched, to catch the brave men diving from the 14th floor.
I am the tree that catches the few Angels of our time as they lose their footing and tumble earthwards. I set them on their feet and give them words of encouragement and then go back to worrying that they will fall again. I worry more that when they do fall, I will not be there to catch. I will be a second too late and stare dumbfounded at the mangled body on the pavement, still clinging their briefcase and wife's photograph.
No. I am not a paramedic. I am not a police officer, fire fighter, tax collector, or otherwise. I don't have any truly special talents, anyone can do what I do. I just have the gall and desire to do it first. And I know personally one of these Noble Men who eternally climb against the grain, the odds, the wind, and destiny herself to a higher tomorrow.
Their drive, their stamina, it confuses me. Why do they go to such lengths? Irregardless of the reason, I remain loyal and faithful in all ways to assisting in their goals, trying desperately to get them to let me help. They are very stubborn people. Disregarding their own safety, running out under the 14th floor along side me, catching who they can, resuscitating who may live. I am not nearly on their level, but in my own way, I am a distorted reflection.
I am the tree that gives them shade. I am the pool of water they look into and see their reflection peering back in honest reality. It is the only way I can tell them
Yes, you are doing the right thing and I am proud to love you even if you do not even know my name.
It could be me, but I would say there is a shortage of these people in todays world. More and more of shade is not used, more often is that still lake left unvisited and the Noble characters of whom I speak are too high to see and they will not be back.
That is why I cry at night.
posted by James at 7:15 AM
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