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Chronicles of the Angels of Eden: Chapter 28: Part One

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , , , , , on June 2, 2013| Leave a Comment »

In the beginning . . .

Chapter 27 . . .

Still a little strapped for time lately. Another three-parter, but a bit more substance substance in contrast to the sandwiching that formed chapter 27. Enjoy!

Chapter 28: Part 1

He entered their home late at night, his feet tired from a very long walk from Dedicated to East of Eden. As he entered their bed, and wrapped his arms around his wife, he could feel her smile in the darkness. Feeling his heart satisfied by her warmth, he decided upon that feeling that he would wait until the morning came before informing her what steps he knew he must now take. With a heavy, grateful heart, he waited for the light of the sun to waken him from a cocoon of bliss mixed with a mind whose singular disruption was too loud for the continued contentment that otherwise silence would bring.

“I wish to ask for your permission, Isha.”

“When, my husband, have you not had it?”

“Nonetheless . . .”

She noticed the heaviness of his eyes as they looked toward the ground in a far corner of the room.

“Look to me, my husband. What thought could be in your mind to weigh your head away from my face?”

“The thought, My Love, that I ought not be here longer.”

Now it was she who paused in heaviness as her mouth hung just slightly open, still in indecision of what answer to make. She swallowed, and he spoke.

“Returning at last, and finding my peace with you, I heard an emotional impulse, brief, as though it were a voice, and in this I understood the meaning. I understood the meaning for as it was interpreted instinctively in my head-brain, my emotional center was tranquil at once in affirmation of what I thought the impulse within me to mean.”

“Why, my husband, will you not be returning?” She responded as though hearing what was upon his tongue’s tip before he had taken the time to form it there by conscious volition of his intellect.

“I do not know, Love. Merely, my feet will not sustain my walk where I arrive, and that it will not be an unpleasantness.”

As she recalled the unpleasant fate of Adam not 57 years prior, she was made uneasy to recall what they all had seen of him, as though a bird fresh for de-feathering. And she was about to speak –

“No, Eden, I do not believe his fate will be mine. Though, I know I will not be able to hold you again as I have been blessed to once I arrive where I am going.”

“Then you have decided this already, husband, and need no word from me to set yourself where your feet will carry you. Begone then!”

“No, Wife. Though I may hear an echo through my mind for as long as my days, until I should become as rigid as the first man dead, if such is my fate, without the joy in your heart for who I am as I am lead on, as is my wish where my heart connects with what moves my feet, I would not break my covenant with you. Rather I please your decision than the whims of my selfishness should the loudness enter your mind as I seek to empty it from mine.”

For a moment she stopped and stared at Enoch. “Will you be leaving immediately, then, at my acquiescence?”

“No, in not so many days, but not immediately.”

“Then I will not hold you back from following what has led you to myself to begin with. I cannot imagine a louder burden to my own mind should I demonstrate ingratitude for the very reason our life began. Only, I know I will miss you besides, and will not take joy in that fact. You have but to make me one promise, and my blessing is yours.”

“You have but to speak it.”

“You will bid me farewell before you leave, and in that moment let me sate myself upon that moment for so long as I desire.”

“It shall be done as you have spoken.”

“Then, Husband, your feet will carry you where they will, and the life that we have created together will fill my heart though I’ll not feel yours beat next to mine again.”

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Chronicles of the Angels of Eden: Chapter 25

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , , , , , on April 20, 2013| Leave a Comment »

In the beginning . . .

Chapter 23 . . .

Chapter 25

In the cool of the night, Dedicated saw with his eyes by the light of the moon, and considered briefly that by the automated actualization of creation put forth by the creation of Man, so would eyes ever exist by which to see exactly the same. Though ever the eyes would see ever different, there was nothing else, after all, to see. Knowing, in the silence of the night, by moon and chirp of cricket that that which he would ask of anything saw fully through his own ears and eyes, he understood the continuity of life as it would always be through bodies before death, and walked fully in the knowledge of what one could appreciate about the fullness of Divinity should one choose to look inward.

As he walked, so he saw the days of his life pass before his eyes. Days turned into nights. He walked from forest to dwelling to the riverside, each placement shifting by the next motion of his stride. Before thought could rise without his desire for its presence as he wished himself always mindful of That Which Created All Existence Indiscriminate, he would answer his body’s calls that spoke without thought. He would feed himself, purge himself, join in unity with the flesh housing the same spark of Creation’s Perceptions as saw too through him, and father the children that resulted accordingly; answer the needs of his wife as he walked through the life that he enjoyed as he was himself the tool by which it was created. And as the incarnated angels watched over the direct descendents of Adam, so too did they watch, in wonder, the life of Enoch.

When he Enoch was 363 years old, he had a conversation with his wife. “I have known myself as fully as my mind can conceive, though know that I have not walked as far as my legs can take me. Will you forgive me, Yofi Meikhil Aish Eloki, if I should explore Divinity’s existence beyond what I have known, unfortunately outside of the Grace of your voice should you do the air the honor of calling to me?”

“Husband, our children are old enough to walk without much need for us at present, and I am presently not carrying a child who would miss having a father upon light first touching its eyes. Though I will miss your warmth at night, I know that you crave every bit of experience your existence might allow as you understand it, and cannot stand in the path you walk while existence blesses me with The Love of The Light even without the beauty of your face showing me most of the life I have spent my time being grateful for. I will look forward to the returning of you who is Dedicated ever to walking with That Which Has Created Us All.”

With that, Enoch began to walk toward the Sun at daybreak.

.  .  .

Months later of wandering, Enoch wondered after the sight far below him and the hill on which he now stood. Catching his breath and resigning himself to what he was seeing, he continued walking. Several hours later, he found himself in an inn in the town of Nod.

The balding, white-haired inn-keeper greeted Enoch with a smile as Enoch walked through the door and sat down at the bar. “Looks like you’ve been on a bit of a journey, lad. Help you to a drink?”

Enoch blinked at the old man in his strange-looking clothing, “I could use some water, though I have no way at present to reciprocate your kindness save for the many dried berries I am currently carrying.”

“Well, berries won’t get ya a cup of wine, but water’s on the house. If you have a story to share of your journeys, however, that might be worth a cup of intoxicant from the blood of the fruit of the vine . . .”

Enoch drank gratefully from the cup handed to him as he told a simple tale to the inn-keeper, “I’ve walked that I might know of the creations of God all I can before I meet the same fate as he who was first-born to existence 55 years ago.”

“Come again?” The inn-keeper was confused by what Enoch had said.

“Adam, the first man to exist, he died 55 years ago or so, and I wish to know what I can of existence if what happened to him is what will one day happen to my own body.”

“I don’t know about who was the first man ever born upon this Earth,” responded the inn-keeper, “but I can respect a man living his life to its fullest before dropping dead. What have you learned of God from your journeys stranger?”

“That it is through our own eyes It watches, and that it calls Itself by our own names.”

The inn-keeper stared at Dedicated for a moment, recognized something in his eyes, took a deep gulp, poured Enoch a cup of wine, and passed it to him. “If you speak no more of your journeys this night, you can have another on the house!”

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Chronicles of the Angels of Eden: Chapter 23

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , , , , , on April 6, 2013| Leave a Comment »

In the beginning . . .

Chapter 20 . . .

Chapter 23

Enoch led a gifted life. He was the first born son of first born sons traced back all the way to the third born son of Humanity. As was such, he was highly regarded in the land in which he grew up. He spent most of his time, from the age of about six and a half years old, sitting by a flowing river with his eyes closed. He wanted always ever to be in the presence of God.

He’d begun from the age of about five letting his mind rest, and thus taking in the fullness of the reality surrounding him without interruption from the thoughts in his mind. As he grew older, however, he began to find more and more that this process was becoming ever more difficult. His mother would teach him something, his father would teach him something, the children would invite him to play, he would see something he’d never seen before, he’d wonder about something he’d never considered before. Thus, he noticed his mind becoming ever noisier as he was going through life.

When he was about six and a half his father had brought him with him to the river to wash the family’s clothing. As Enoch sat by his father, his feet in the water, beating a wet loin cloth against a boulder close to the bank of the river, he noticed that his mind was filled with the sound of the river rather than the thoughts in his head. From this time thereafter, he walked down to the river often that he might ever hear God’s voice speaking to him. As he grew older, and his eyes would bring thoughts to his brain, he began the practice of closing them that the silence of his self would be ever-complete.

.  .  .

As he was nearing his early teen-age years, however, Enoch found that with the changing of his body came also a shift in his capacity for retaining the clarity of his mind, and the divinity it heard.

Now, most of the first-born of the line of Seth followed Seth’s example by seeking distant cousins with whom to mate at an age at which they could discern something about lasting companionship with whom they chose. By the time Enoch was nearing his early teenage years, he was already very familiar with the life-lessons of his Great, Great, Great Grandfather. Nonetheless, as he was beginning to notice the forms of his various female cousins and younger aunts passing by him during his regular day life, he found himself daunted by the strength of his natural animal-self that he had not experienced prior to the new developments of his body.

And so it was, when he was about twelve and a half years existent, he found that try as he might to drown his mind in the river, the blank slate of the back of his eyelids continued to show Enoch the images of certain more appealing family members, who seemed to unceasingly stimulate the emergence of his . . . thoughts . . . more so than the silence through which he felt the fullness of his connectivity to The Creator whose feeling he constantly craved. Around the age of 42, he gave up on trying to escape his thoughts as he began taking walks in the hopes merely of turning his attention from the life of the small town for an afternoon now and then.

.  .  .

It was around the age of 62 and a half that he was introduced to one of the great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great granddaughters of Seth.

Enoch was walking along the bank of the river, striving with himself to silence his own mind as he asked loudly into it, “Will ever a day come that I will again hear the voice of That Which Created Me and All Existence, and what, if any, action is required of me that I might again hear Its voice?” In the wake of the severity and loudness with which he asked this into his own mind, he found a moment of silence penetrate through the exhaustion of his fullness of force of his own inner voice. As that silence filled his mind, several seconds later his eyes spotted something up ahead by the river’s edge.

With her eyes closed, she lay with her arms propping her torso up off the ground, her face toward the sun, naked, with her feet just off the side of the river, but not in the water itself. Enoch continued toward her beauty in wonder and silence as his eyes widened and he wondered over the best way possible to disturb her tranquility. His heart was heard in his ears, and his legs became wobbly as his mind considered the image of lowering himself down to her and making his presence known by placing his own lips to hers.

About six feet from where she lay, the rustling of the grass under his feet drew her attention to him without the need of any help from his mouth. She turned her head sharply toward him, covering the sun from her eyes to see him clearly. She smiled up at him, “I didn’t think anyone would come out this far from town.” She blushed as she spoke.

“Nor did I,” responded Enoch. “Since it seems to be our common desire, how would you feel if I stayed for a while and we experienced being alone, together?”

From behind a tree in the distance Kellendreth smiled to Humdow who watched beside her after the seventh generation of Adam. Though they could not hear the words spoken, they both found beauty in seeing Enoch lie down by the woman; the two passing the time beside each other watching the flowing of the river before them.

.  .  .

A little more than two and a half years later, as they looked at him and each other, they decided to name their first son as one who would not die until he chose of his own accord to do so. So was born to Enoch and the descendent of Man by way of Appointed, Who Demands His Death.

It was as he was watching his son come from his wife, and hearing Methuselah’s first cry, that Enoch understood fully the continuity of the means by which The Divine knows itself infinitely. And so as his own eyes saw that different eyes would see the same and otherwise, it was that once again his mind grew silent, and he found their he heard all the answers to the questionings of whatever voices spoke into him as he knew not again how to find The Lord. After he kissed the forehead of his wife, who now held the child she had produced from her own body as all Adam had ever been brought forth from the earth, he let her rest with their baby held at peace to her chest, and he left their dwelling toward the cool night air, and took a walk.

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