Monday 14th October 24
So much stone rounded by time, by the winds of time. Millennia, pushing and shoving life as you knew it to the margins, to the imagination. For once this place was alive with colour and hope, bargains, beauty, the crowded commerce of people. But still you wondered if this was all there was, because there is death and muck all around. You can see it gathering in the corners. You had to hold life lightly. ‘There’s a good strong child’, for at least they lived. It makes you afraid, and you do not think that this figure of stone, though brightly painted, can hold you in this world.
A man has come who talks of a God who is alive. You would not dare hope for such a thing – eyes warm with love and life. That could never be, for he was a man first! You want a God you cannot carve into stone, who is not mired in the corruption that is humanity. You long for something beyond you and yet who will look on you with compassion, who will see you and not with the capricious heart of a god.
Impossible. There is no such god, certainly not one who was human first! Still, perhaps you could go and hear this man. You never know, he might be entertaining.
And the millennia breathes as the walls tilt and fall, the foundations are rounded with time and softened with moss, and his cross is cut into the stone again and again.
