The sad man, whose name was lightning, withdrew himself from the crowd at the funeral. He was simply overwhelmed by the loss of his friend, Greggory, and was battling with the bleakness of reality, and acceptance of what was lost, was lost. As he stepped away, he bumped into a cloaked woman named Sapphire, who smirked when he did.
“You are looking pretty sad. I’m sorry that he’s dead. He was the one who was friends with you and always made you glad.”
Lightning gulped. “Yes this is a loss. Yes what you say is true. Yet I shall go on somehow it is what I always do.”
After a chuckle, Sapphire responded. “Go on you say, you think it’s true? You think you can find happiness after losing one who’s close to you? I’m sorry I’m afraid, but this isn’t true. I lost an important friend one time and now worry’s all I do.”
Lightning shook his head. “No that isn’t good. Worry is not for me. I will continue to ride this wave until clear skies set me free. It is a time for sadness yes, a true loss yes indeed. A time for solace and contemplation, and pondering all unseen things. Greggory was my friend, you see, the best he was indeed. But sadness does not fill my soul with anything but more grief.”
Sapphire frowned. “Grief you say is bad? You think unseen things are true? Look around dear Lightning, don’t you see, this sadness it is true? The gloom we feel when friends are lost, when tragedy is seen. That is the time for true depression and realizing what is seen. Open your eyes, you hopeful fool, look around instead. You’re friend Greggory was hopeful too, and now that man is dead.”
Lightning groaned, smeared his face with his hand, then returned. “Oh Sapphire you so hate me, Oh Sapphire it’s true. You are the black of blackest coals, for what you say is drool. My friend Greggory is lost I see, he is gone and lost for truth. He is dead to this world but heaven opens too.”
“Heaven you believe? Eternity you fool? Don’t you see with your own eyes that faith is just a tool? A way to make bad things feel nice, a way of strength for realists vice. A fight of truth, a pledge of greed, a form for thinking those things in which peasants feel good things. Greggory was your friend I see, he was mine too. Greggory was a man who died and now he’s gone for good.”
Lightning laughed. “So you say, you know all truth. So you claim to know what rules. So you think in sadness that silence heals all wounds. Hope for children, faith for sheep, all things called holy for the meek. You are too smart, too smart to see, that Greggory still believed in these.”
“Yes he did! And now he’s dead. Off to ruin in the ground instead. Look around you, lightning see, the thought of faith is not for me. Your friend is dead, the soil he treads, his body withered and lost and dead.”
Lightning shook. “His body gone, yes I see, but you know the soul is free. It is a cage, this flesh of age, a container for what God has made. The body gone, spirit freed, a life yet lived for Greggory.”
Sapphire laughed boastfully. “Oh you poor, pathetic thing. Oh you fool, filled with fool’s dream. It is so sad, so sad I see, faith of old ruins all dreams. Don’t spend your life with this dumbly thought, don’t spend your years in pointless plot. Listen to me, let it be understood, your friend is dead and gone for good.”
Lightning turned to face Sapphire directly, held her by both shoulders, and addressed her. “I know you think all thought is good. I know you think you stand for what you should. I know sadness has comforting ways, I know depression for me soon must play. But I know, I’ve seen and found, a faith in a God who is much more profound. For what I know, is more than just seen, what I know is not just false dreams. The fact is this, and will always be, the God of mine defeats misery. There is no color, nor spot of black, there is no mistake in his own road’s paved track. There is a reason, just let it be, the God of mine paints the sunsets and seas. And well he does, while the ocean floats blue, the common mistake is to quicken your view. For if you look close, squint and you’ll see, the color of blackness is in beautiful things.
– Thomas M. Watt
Thomas M. Watt 