Above Cognitive Serial: by Steven Louis Ernest
It Begins... The Ending...
More. Many years ago, I lived because of a miracle, or was it a curse. It was the beginning. The question starting the journey, "What is the meaning of life?" As I approached the ending of my journey, I found the answer. I found the meaning of it all. I thought. The journey continues searching for 'more'. This site, may it bring me the 'more'.
Or, is it all a dream and all the writings that follow are part of that dream. Is God a dream? For He was the miracle maker who started my journey, or the beginning of the dream. Will He, also, be the ending of the journey, the dream, and the beginning of a new reality: Above Cognitive.
I am still discovering this new reality. Some may say a new world. But it is more than that, it is God. It is the meaning and the more. It is an existence above existence. A heaven without any name. How do I explore with this journey to a new reality. The journey is this site.
With this site, I hope to expand my thoughts, my thinking, my mind as to a concept I have never heard before. I am only beginning to experience it. I have no need to explain it to others. You will have to discover what Above Cognitive means yourself. Or, is Above Cognitive simply a story which i hope to make colorful and interesting. Even expand your thoughts, thinking and mind.
God Is A Funny Man
Who is the best to have a sense of humor? Who knows all the straightlines and the appropriate punchlines? And every now and then, His jokes don't connect with the audience. Sometimes above their heads or just not funny. Can't be funny all the time, God is no exception. Who wants to be perfect all the time. Boring! God made me say it. Why is humor so important to God? It was the first thing to make Him laugh and smile.
What was the first practical joke or prank? You had a hard night sleeping with a great, stressful decision on your mind and waking with such droopy eyes. All you can think about is waking and getting a few cups of coffee down. But first, of course, the john and, then, looking in the mirror and straightening one's wild hair. What a surprise looking into the mirror and seeing that you are hairless, all red with horns sticking out, and a wicked goatee. What a scream! Especially, backing up and tripping over one's new pointed tail. Then, backing up and poking one's ass on a trident with sinful barbs laying on the bathroom counter. The Devil wasn't a happy camper.
God laughed for centuries. Satan fumed for centuries. His white wings and flowing gown, and the golden slippers, all gone. Then, the terrible temperature change. Red flames and burnt dirt replacing the golden lined clouds and silver roads of Heaven. Satan tormented in his own Hell. Humor was born and God smiled. God is a funny man.
To raise Above Cognitive one needs a sense of humor; being able to smile. Man was made in God's image. God has a sense of humor; man should have a sense of humor, especially at one's self. God, this day, was hungry and thinking of a coconut cream pie in the fridge. Worn and tired from the long hours, lights went on in the kitchen. No thoughts of bed and rest, just that piece of pie. Opening the fridge door, God had His piece of pie, the whole pie flew into His face. Satan's revenge, the first revenge. Satan laughed for the first time in a long time, as did, God. From His face to the plate, God had His pie. Laughter and smiling radiates from one's soul to those around, the journey to Above Cognitive is enhanced. Or, just words for a campfire night.
Holy Bible: God Is More!
How does one approach Above Cognitive without talking about the Holy Bible? The Holy Bible is the launching pad for reaching out for more. God is more. God is the words of the bible but more than the words. The words are the foundation upon we, humans, reach for more. Reach higher to be Above Cognitive. The higher we reach and achieve, the higher we will get to God. Living the bible is fine, but one should realize the bible isn't one dimensional. You live the bible from the words from within and go up spiritually to higher levels using the words and your soul. Bettering your soul, going up, will bring you closer to God
God doesn't want to make men Gods. He wants to help men get closer to Him spiritually, as Angels are. Why? Because that is the meaning of life, getting closer to God. As a father or mother, one wants his children to be the best they can be. Wants their children to be as good or better than themselves. What can be better than getting closer to God. What parent doesn't want their children hugging and loving them. Above Cognitive brings one closer to God beginning with the bible and going up spiritually.
Why there are so many interpretations of the sayings from the bible. Bread crumbs don't show the path, otherwise, those who aren't ready to reach higher will follow the crumbs. One has to earn or prove they are worthy of going higher. Above Cognitive is that journey's path. Or, is it just a story. God is only the (one-dimensional) bible and no more.
The bible is the source of the spirit that radiates throughout the universe, throughout creation. It is the gateway to reaching Heaven; to reaching God. God's hand is there waiting to help you rise up. You only need to look for it. The words of the bible is the beginning to reaching towards God's hand. God's hand is there to help you rise Above Cognitive. The journey continues.
Devil Made Me Do It!
"I haven't found God?" The question many people ask themselves at some point of time in their life. But, is that, the question we should be asking ourselves. God is everywhere. Look at the palm of your hand. God is looking back, even though you may not realize it. God is on our side no matter what. Maybe the world would be a better place if we asked ourselves, "Where is the Devil?"
Oh, sitting on some throne gloating about the human race or chasing humans to get them to sign their souls away. If only Satan was so simple of an enemy, battlefronts could be drawn and he could be defeated. The Devil is an Angel, therefore, cannot be destroyed by man, only by God.
As an Angel, Satan can be in many places all at one time. Satan has a possible beginning within all of us who have a conscious mind of good and bad. Analogy: a seed. Within our souls is a seed of bad. This bad creates a temptation within us: "Do I really want to do it, though I feel it is wrong?" Yes, can begin the path "of no return" to eventually evil, Satan, or, No, the good, God, in us can control the little bad and keep out the evil. Satan is evil.
Bad vs. Evil. Intent. It is a fine line. Life has many fine lines. We, as humans of free will and thought, need to define the two. Isn't so easy. One's bad is an other's evil. Here is where we ask the question, "God, help me." Sadly, so few people know how to talk to God: "actions speak louder than words." Actions are of our souls. Our goal, to rise our spirit Above Cognitive. To get closer to God. The story of the journey continues....
Non-Believers: Illusionists
Question: "Is there a God." Note, there is no question mark used. There is a God. The question should be more concerned about comprehending God. The vastness of God is immense, the universe, existence, all creation, and heaven, too. Man was made in God's image. Yes, spiritually, nowhere physically. God is spirit. Man has spirit. God gave unto Man His spirit, and free will. Even to non-believers: illusionists.
"How do we prove there is a God." No, question mark. Breathe and that is your answer. Life proves God. Without spirit there is no life, only the physical. What takes the chemicals and elements and puts breath into them. The Spirit of God. God is much more than what man can comprehend. What do you tell a non-believer? Breathe and look around you. Pop the illusion you live in for inside you know there is something greater than yourself. For without God, there is only yourself.
Some believers and non-believers will question God, "Why did God do this? Or, why did God do that? Or, how did God do such an evil thing?" Believers, if true believers, should know better: Judge not God. How do mere mortals judge a being we cannot begin to comprehend? For non-believers, pop that illusion that good or evil is of that moment, that act. God sees the past, present, and future. Good at the moment, may be bad at the end in the future. Bad today, may be good the next morning.
Illusions are many that non-believers live in. Listening to their souls is so hard to do. Fear and being scared are powerful emotions of human nature. Fear they are unable to live up to expectations from others. Blaming the fact there is no God gives one an excuse for being who he is and, therefore, no reason to seek to rise higher. Being scared of oneself is difficult to overcome. Oh, he might say the outside world and those inside it will 'hurt' me, therefore, I am scared. There is no God to stand by me so I will hide from life. For non-believers, there are many illusions that God doesn't exist. If they open the eyes of their souls and minds, they will see it is fear and other emotions hiding God from them. Above Cognitive awaits the non-believers: illusionists. Story's journey continues.
Our Stories: Life, Dreams, and Hell
We all have our 'My Story' to tell. Many of us have more than one. Those of innocent childhood, adolescence, and being grown. Then, those that aren't as innocent. The Blame Game is won by God for those.
When all is well, people tend to take life all for granted. Oh, money may go into the collection plate, being nice and kind to others is practiced, and goodwill to God is a nod of the head, but Above Cognitive too much work, a hind sight of no thought. Complacent instead of the journey to get closer to God.
Dreams of wonders and nightmares roam the night. What is your 'My Story' to tell. Think back. Memories are but dreams. Dare we look back. To advance our journey to Above Cognitive, we must. Nightmares are the greatest fuel to travel by. Most vivid are the nightmares. Above Cognitive will rid us of the nightmares for it brings strength by getting closer to God.
The Blame Game of Hell God wins. Why, God, did you do that? Haunts your mind yesterday, today, and tomorrow. Why, God! Above Cognitive rises you above life, dreams, and Hell. In getting closer to Heaven and God, one looks ahead, being propelled by happiness and the gift of the Above Cognitive journey. Or, is it all but a 'My Story.' She is all of "My Story!"
Romance: Trip of a Lifetime
The words were sound and firm but the softness carried away the harshness. His heart pounded from the happiness he heard from her commanding voice. But all so one sided. The colors of his aura, his 'feelings' knowing they found the key to the romance of the love to carry them both through the Aura's Gate into Above Cognitive. Romance the beginning of God's love of finding His gift. Romance of the kind to last forever through life, the Heaven of Above Cognitive, to the feet of God. Romance of the touching of the hearts and souls within. Two becoming architects of a monument to God except for - 'Scared: Sin of Satan.'
How do the spirits of hearts and souls touch? How does the sun rise every morning? How does one question God? The roads he builds for one's path through his trip of a lifetime. Why his road crossed hers he does not question, only why does hers moves away from his? "God is a funny man," he thinks. The bumps and holes in God's road were many. Dead man's curves here and there. But through it all, he made it to the end of his trip of a lifetime. A banner hangs across his road at the finish line, only a stretch of a few years left. A smooth stretch he thought.
The touching of two spirits, unlike the touching of skin, interweaves and becomes one. Beginning a romance unknown to the eyes of man. The statues of love, romance, by the greatest sculptors; paintings, crafts depicting the greatest joys of the body by the hands of the most skilled artisans cannot compare to the works of God in living spirits. The 'feelings' of God's paints and clays forming living romance between two. Her eyes pierced his as she left. He felt the words of "I love you, too," but he knew it was a lie. He stands at the gate of auras knowing he will never enter Above Cognitive. The romance he feels shall never be; God sometimes fails. The long trip of a lifetime never finding the meaning of 'more', as he looks through the bars of the gate to his dream, Above Cognitive, and kneeling at the feet of God.
Heaven in his mind. Imagining her eyes did not lie. The sensations, the arousing of heart and soul. A lust blessed by God. Something more than lust, meaning of existence. An eternal romance bursting the gates to continue the journey and beginning Above Cognitive. His dream popped. Was it all a story to be told over and over and laughed at sitting around the table of boiled crawfish, corn, potatoes, all seasoned to all tastes? He just smiled.
Diminishing the Soul: With Hatred
The monuments and statues to love and romance crumbled by the fever of hatred and anger from the bowels of Hell, from the inner abysses of one's soul rises hellhounds: Cerberus, Argos, Surma, The Black Dog of Bouley and the rest. The race of forgiveness and lessening of the flames by time before the explosion erupts eating the lining of the soul. Diminishing the journey to Above Cognitive. Lengthening the path through the axes swung by arms of evil creatures unknown even to God. Wounding cuts with dripping blood and anxious Angels of healing doctors and nurses determined to beat the clock of no return to the journey of Above Cognitive.
The journey to beat freezing by the coldness of heart and its hatred. To stop God's wishes of two achieving the passing into Above Cognitive. Closing the gates until the meeting of a new soul, a new mate. Into the next lifetime one may need to go. Even God sometimes loses. Free will to hate: a freedom of man and more so of woman seeking self-redemption for the biting of the apple and the opening of eyes from God. Or, the lack of faith in one self to fight the fight to be a better person. One scared of others and the world more than the love and romance of God's mate, even with the blessings of God. Unaware of that laying beyond Aura's Gate.
The quick flash hits its target with a bang. The bullseye missed. Unending darts await until stopped by one's repairing of his own heart, mind, and soul. One needs to reach into his desire to be better, be closer to God. Easy not. For hatred, like laziness and destruction, is easier to forge on the anvil of life. The heat and flames provided by sin and darkness of evil and its growth in one's soul, seeking to devour it whole and present to its master, Satan. How does the repairs become and take form? A question beginning with striking the bullseye to the recovery to the faith, forgiveness, and love of God which was lost. Stop the throwing of the darts.
Again, how? The mirror to God, the mirror on the wall, the mirror handheld, the mirror of the visor of a car, the mirror of the reflection in glass, and the countless mirrors God provides. The happiness of God is great when one beats back the soldiers of evil and imprisons them to the minuscule spot reserved by God as the seed of Satan. The mirror how one sees within himself. What one has becomes. The hatred in the eyes; thirstiness for blood in the lips; the darkness and coldness of the caves before seeing the light; lack of "feelings" of the colors; unseeing the image of God looking over them. The questioning of these images begins the journey back to God by way of Above Cognitive. Or an old man sitting by the fire telling a tale of color to children of animal skins and stoneware in the cave.
Growing the Soul: With Love
Our souls are ever growing as we go from one lifetime to another. As well, does it get eaten by hatred. Above Cognitive is about love and romance; the world of sex being falsely called love unmentioned. Each person has an aura and, when an aura reaches out to others, the connections keep life moving. The millions, billions and trillions of light colors 'feelings' guided by the winds of God. Unlike the brackish water of salt and fresh, mingled colors of God's approval fill the skies with the fireworks of love and romance. The soul grows emotionally and substantially to be better. Getting closer to Above Cognitive.
So simple it sounds, but chemistry of colors whole libraries filled. Smiles not being smiles; yes meaning no. Scared of nerves unknown excuses of hatred. Unimaginable misunderstandings and uncaring confused with common caring and courtesy. Finding one's true self through the layers of falsehoods and mistrust used by Satan in one's own soul. Satan advancing his evil through his weapons wounding the soul and permeating his infections, as that in a wounded toe. If not caught and fought and defeated, first the foot, leg, on and on, until the mind and soul are consumed by evil. How to grow the soul?
The nutrients in the sprinkles of spirit into the waters of color grow the soul. Kindness, caring, love, compassion, feelings of human emotions, wanting, desire, and plain being nice some of the many nutrients for growing the soul. To raise it Above Cognitive, the key ingredient: romance. Romance, the special element of the alchemist God. His crystal singing bowl blending the gemstones and precious metals of wonder, excitement, joy, and happiness into romance of touch, emotional feelings, and soul growth cutting of the gate into Above Cognitive.
Touch of skin rising the touch of the soul of the special one mingling of colors. The advancement of God's wish only can be defeated by fright, fear, dishonesty, and downright nastiness of Satan and his evil and the weakness of a person to fight back to be God's again. One who has lost faith in God, others who love them, and in one's self, not realizing the stepping into Satan's trap for the soul. Only faith in God, in one's self and, especially, in the special one that love them, can they open the trap and place Satan there. The hands of the special one of love to touch and know the reality of it all and that to be freed it takes two to rise Above Cognitive with love and romance. Of the stories that can be told of love, is this just another story we are journeying through?
Auras: Feelings of Spirits
"Missing her feeling." Words from God for the moment Eve talked to the snake Satan. The moment when Eve questioned God in her heart and mind. The moment when God realized with the coming of woman 'more' than a simple soul of man was born. 'What to do?' he thought. "Auras," He shouted. Layers of unseen colors from the soul. Colors of one's being, the gate from that of the physical and the land of spirits. Colors of 'feelings' from all living creatures and all. The gate between cognitive and Above Cognitive.
The seven layers of the aura to man, unlimited in the eyes of God. The colors endless, swirling and winding from layer to layer in the randomness of God's mind. Aura, the land of 'feelings.' "Feelings" vs feelings. The aura, melting of the earthly and the heavenly spirits encompassing all the known worlds and more. The 'feelings,' the winds of flowing colors throughout of all essence, of all life. The 'feelings' we must journey through to achieve Above Cognitive.
The 'feelings' we must learn to master from lifetime to lifetime as our souls grow from the accumulation of knowledge, experience, and wisdom gathered from our auras as living. Until one day, we, our souls become ancient. I have an ancient soul, I have been told. Seeking now the soul to take me Above Cognitive. For an ancient soul to be touched by the fingers of God and given a gift to enter Above Cognitive a blessing of happiness for eternity. How does an ancient soul find the other to burst the Gate Aura for the gift from God.
The journey for Above Cognitive is to be by chance. Or does God know the roll of the dice. Does God hold the light for two to come together? Yet, the question is still there for the one ancient soul asking, pleading for the answer of where is the other. How do we seek, hunt the other? 'Feelings!' But are these feelings only part of the continuing story to be told to our children.
Alone: The Journey Started, Will End
Into this world, one enters alone. Out of this world, one leaves alone. The greatest challenge in the journey between is to find the one to take the 'loneliness' out of your soul. For how does one achieve Above Cognitive alone? Not to be done. "Oh, God is always with you," they say. There are some things that even God cannot do. Man, himself, needs to achieve on his own. The greatest achievement is receiving God's gift: the key to Above Cognitive. His gift of another. The journey to rise Above Cognitive begins with two.
Until the gift, our souls go from lifetime to lifetime. Aging along the way awaiting God's gift as we learn more and more and grow 'feelings' of wisdom. To see beyond the world of man and into the world of God and spirits. Above the process of cognitive, of knowing our physical existence, into knowing 'more'. The key to continue the journey through the gate of two worlds, another soul within our soul to expand and burst the gate open while turning the key.
The key, the beginning of the Above Cognitive journey. As what exists beyond the gate does anyone know but God, for what does man know of spirits. The two becoming one, to imagine journeying towards together in spirit to the Son. The wonders of feelings never known before. How long the journey? Time does not exist in spirit. Another wonder. An eternity of love and faith, of happiness, through the Heaven beyond the gate. All a gift from God to the end.
When will it end? With the end of God for God is spirit, God is all. Knowing how spirit dies is beyond man's comprehension. Or, does it die or does it burn in the fires of Hell to be reborn as does the Phoenix. Above Cognitive begins the wonders to the ashes of rebirth into the next unknown. Or, the continuous of the story.
One: Yet Two
Was it all a dream. The morning so refreshing. The cool Autumn air. Tingling of the skin. The love in that air. Freedom from his enclosed world. Her heart beating with his. Her soul hugging his. Yes, I am yours his soul shouted. The excitement both felt. Still, a doubt in her. Scared. He can't be real. Who am I to deserve such love. But the excitement made her a queen deserving. But unlike a queen, she couldn't reach out. 'Feelings' to be more. To start a journey of unimaginable wonders, a journey to Him by becoming Above Cognitive with him. Two becoming one. The unknown she feared. Excitement be damned.
The words he wrote. Is life but a story. Is she real. Or just a book in his mind. Is God the publisher awaiting to print. If a story, why not in his arms. Does he hate himself so. Why the loneliness. Missing the conversations aimed at showing each is real. Write the words of your heart. Be true. Above Cognitive begins with truth, faith, and love. Are we not more than knowing our existence. One, yet two?
He knew the words he wrote were lies. She could never be 'more'. She needed to live life through others. Scared to leave the shelter and enter the rain. He loved the rain. But how does one give up on hope, wishes, and dreams. And God. God, the maker of rain. Thunder and lightning from Satan. With glee, he laughed so loud and proud. Watching her shake with fear of him. Do your master's bidding. Bow thou head. Cower and grovel at my feet, he said. More cannot be. Spit in the eyes of the Devil did he. She dared not. Above Cognitive evil does not exist. At it's gate he stood. The Devil barred his way. Fear of Satan greater than any love. One, yet two.
Satisfaction. The Devil be damned. To live life, he fought himself. Fought the seed of Satan from within. Satisfaction, never to give in. She saved him. He won. She beat the Devil for him. Or, was it for herself? Just too afraid to claim her prize. Afraid of her true faith and love of God. Afraid of her true faith and love of him. Afraid of her true faith and love of herself. Self love. Where true love begins. True love of two being one, unlocks the gate to Above Cognitive. Or is this just a continuing story of One: Yet Two written in the winds of time.
Scared: Sin of Satan
The shot of cold steel from her eyes to his pierced deep to his soul. The shining hook found its mark joining the many other hooks from earlier days. The need to keep his love and longing in her powers; her control until the time God told her it was right to release him. To join him. Or, to destroy him as the seed of Satan sought revenge. Revenge for what so unsure, either for his actions following his heart and God or for loving her though feeling so undeserving, so scared; for wanting to raise her above herself to a world of 'feelings' and Above Cognitive. The sin of Satan opened to be freed by the emotion of revenge. To be nourished by 'scared'; the fear and terror of being 'more'. The birth of growth of her aura and its layers of colors. The coming of new feelings. A new journey to Above Cognitive. To let someone in her heart and soul. The horror, or the desire, which?
Scared throughout her body, nerves, down to her being, as turning her head and walking away. So wanting him to follow and stop her. To turn her around and with his eyes feel the romance of her inner glow, the feeling of God's love and faith. But Satan, his weapon sin, the releasing of scared. Fear and terror into him. Scared, he of she. The key for unlocking the door of his world, releasing him to human emotions and passions, temptations to keep him from his destiny. Which was she! God performs miracles for His reason and he felt there was a reason God saved him years earlier, as she had saved him in the past months. Scared of his forever growing love; what can hold such love without overflowing? Scared she will love him back; scared of becoming Above Cognitive, his destiny with her.
Disappointment, as walking away down the hall, not of him, but of her for going against what her heart told her, or was it whispers from God she fought. Either, no matter, Satan's scared sin unrattled her from within; scared sin of what the rules and words of man told her; rules and words of Satan if without the meaning of God. Scared of the pleasures she received from his torments. Revenge for what others did her; she would do onto him. The cuts, wounds, and pains of long ago, her turn to inflict them onto him. Shaking her head, "No!" Yet, her fight with Satan, none. The pleasures, so good. Oh, justification, so easy, none true. Scared sin of Satan the touch of destruction, hers to wield against him. No tears, for no "feelings" to feel. Him, her "feelings" she does not want, no meaning does she seek. No journey to Above Cognitive for her.
Memories of him as she sat alone wondering the meaning of it all. She needed no man she said, but the emptiness without him, his love and caring, his need, wants and desires, she now felt the voids of Hell. Satan's scared sin long lost from the others after him. The excitement and joys overwhelmed by the pains, torments and horrors that came with them. Why? she questioned as looking into the mirror of winkles and battle scars of body and soul. Looking up, she saw the reflection of God. "Your destiny is with him. Fight not Satan but yourself. Fulfill your destiny to me." His reflection flashed a brightness and she awoke to her youth and beauty he so adored. Above Cognitive and meaning scared her no more; she wanted 'more'. Or, she thought as looking back from the mirror, was it all a story of the journey to Above Cognitive, and no more.
Coming Out: Hurt Feelings
The door forever in front of him. With each move, it moved. The door's worldly sphere kept him in and the world out. His only companion words of an imaginary god he called God. He had no true belief or faith, only the need of someone to talk to; to believe someone cared. He fooled himself not. He knew the truth. His only goal to live. His mind, thoughts, and will fighting to survive. Why? He knew not. Just there was a drive, a need to go ahead in life, a light to reach for. The God he doubted saved him but why? Is there such a thing of destiny? The battles and wars he fought; the mud and dirt he crawled through. All to prepare him for the journey to come; the final battle and war to the Aura's Gate and into Above Cognitive, his destiny given him by God. But first, the finding of God.
The shriek in the night cracked the door, but it held. The words he wrote were poison to the world of man, but freedom, from the creatures of Satan's seed in his soul which fought and ate him within for years, his goal. Freedom given to him from the God he doubted. He knew not what God led him into. The ways of God he discovered. Harsh they can be as she spoke words of man to him to begin the running of the gauntlet and the start of the journey to Above Cognitive. Looking back, he wondered if the creatures were from Satan or God, Himself. For what was to come was his salvation, the finding of God, love and faith in her. Yet, the gauntlet continued. An axe blow here, a spear jab there, all directing him to the nails of blood for her hatred to pound them in, or to another miracle of God: her heart of stone turning to 'feelings' of love and faith in God and him. To end the shriek with the door cracked open and releasing them both to face the Aura's Gate and stepping through.
As he sat looking out to the live oak and felt a hundred years or more of feelings, of its spirit, he knew coming out of his world he could not. Alone shall he be in his world. Her hatred found its mark. God lost. His hurt feelings were not for himself, but the torments he felt from the feelings of others in the world, in existence. The glass sphere of his world stopped not his feelings from reaching out. Spirit can hurt and he felt the hurt. Crazy and nuts he wished, or could be, but God in His ways spoke to him. Did God's words prove his insanity? Yes or no, neither stopped the hurt. Tears flowed. Due to the hurt, or due to coming so close to coming out of his world and being freed. Near to Above Cognitive.
From the God who felt the nails, would He be merciful? For thousands of times over the years, he prayed for God to be merciful, but God was not. Breathe continued in him. What pleasures he thought did God get from those years? Was she only a cat string to tease more hurt from him? No! he would continue the gauntlet to reach her heart and soul. Together they were meant to be. The seed of Satan closed by her; she saved him. Only a merciful God through her could have saved him. Her hand he saw takes his, he can only see in his mind. Two becoming one, the journey Above Cognitive to be. Or, was the opening of the door, his coming out, and the losing of hurt feelings only another story of make believe and Dreamland. Above Cognitive cannot be except in stories.
The Sun: Its Wonders
The lively orange danced with cloudy, tinted, yellows in the sky. She sat in the cool air staring. Felt the damp wood of the steps underneath her rear. Sunrise, or sunset, thought not of which or either. Visions of the excitement of her child, her baby's smile, dancing in the lane under the sun. Her partner, a lean black and spotted dog. A handsome one. A dance of celebration of being with each other. She knew the wonder was from his unassuming love of both, and her. 'Feeling,' his love. What kind of man was he. No, question, for she knew there was no answer. How do you judge a man when you know no other like him. With a wink from the sun, she knew His judgement. Written words haunted her mind, Above Cognitive, dare she. Thoughts of unmeasured time. Of him, but mostly of her. How does she judge herself. With a wink from the other eye of the sun, she knew His judgement. His forgiveness. Begin your journey, be by my side, Above Cognitive, a wonder of the sun.
The sun was going down she noticed. Hints of darkness filling the sky. Coldness of the air coming in. Thoughts of past sunsets, past sunrises. All she had missed of their wonders. Now, her test of feelings reaching out to them. Now, learning their wonders. Learning the wonders of God. Past, present, and future belongs to the land of Above Cognitive. Just the beginning of a thought, but its wonders beginning, too. There is no lost time in the land of Above Cognitive, but how to get there. His words she read, but not felt. How do you feel something not felt before, especially from words. Was his words reaching her, now. Or, was his feelings, his heart beating next to hers. Was she feeling it now. As hers as been next to his for oh so long. Her feeling being his driving force to her love, trust, and faith. Her finding of God, again. She smiled as the sun dropped behind the trees. She knew it would arise again tomorrow, as she knew, her love, trust, and faith in him would, too. She felt it. The wonders of the sun. A God's creation as was the land Above Cognitive.
He stared down from the porch onto her. Saying not a word. For he knew of her hatred and words would be a lost. Turning to begin steps to the door and the turning on of lights, he heard a voice. "Please, come sit." He knew it was the whispers of the wind, but again. "Please, do come sit." Scared, a sin of Satan, but, too, a wonder of the sun if feeling its warmth. His new warmth opened the door. Stepping down and sitting by her side. Scared to Hell. Temptations there. What to say. She spoke, "What did you find in reading all those history books in high school?" In a daze of thought, eyes to the moon, in silence, "Thank you, God," followed by such great conversation. What's best to learn what kind of man one is, great conversation. "Above Cognitive, what does it mean to you?"
A young voice rung out from the house, "Mommy!" "There it is, its beginning," he said, opening the porch door for her. Looking beyond the moon, another thank you to God. Tomorrow morning, the sun and its wonders will shine, again, he knew. As will the love between a mother and child. What greatest 'feeling' can there be than between a mother and a child. What better start to the direction to Above Cognition. What better way to know what kind of man he was. His love of mother and child. Or, is it simply a story continuing as a children's fairy tale about the road to Above Cognitive.
Maybe: Can God Lie!
"Any thoughts of maybe I should have done this, or maybe should have done that? No. Procrastinator I am, but maybes can't change the past." He wrote these words thinking of the present and the future. Thinking of her. What does the future hold? All in her hands. "Maybe I should do this, or maybe, I should do that." But, no. Scared of wrong decision, wrong choice. He had hurt her enough. No more. His path to Above Cognitive gone. His journey ended before beginning.
His thought now, "Can God Lie!" All he had done he felt was done with the directing of God. The spoken words, of feelings. Haphazard, he was not. Scared, a sin of Satan, reared its ugly head with such thoughts. God the orchestrator of the mess he found himself in. Why! Surely, he lost her love and all her respect. Others have forsaken him, too. Polite and nice such sly covers. So many things made it seem right: "I love you, too." The comma haunted him. God actions showing him the way to Above Cognitive were they all lies?
She saw the butterfly float in the wind. She could 'feel' its wings so light. Its heart beating in rhythm with hers. How could this be? "God, did you lie!" I can feel. I feel his heart, his love and faith. "God, did you lie?" I am 'more' she felt; she knew. You held me back, but why? The pains and hurts you threw at me. Why? The thought of Above Cognitive came to mind. Past, present, and future, all one. So much more to comprehend. A start of the wheels turning. Peace now hers. Happiness, where is he? Hands together as one, we shall find more. To His side we come.
"God does lie!" Satan screamed from his seeds in human souls. "There is no maybe." They smiled a wick smile as fixed eyes proved Satan wrong. Eyes that saw into each other’s heart and soul. Eyes of two becoming those of one. Eyes seeing the throne of God beyond the land of Above Cognitive. The journey together, as one, to 'more'. Or, as he put his pencil down, is it all but a story in the mind of a man given to him by God and imagination.
Haunting Question: How?
With each step she took, he could feel his love grow. Her beauty. Her aura his beacon to happiness. Where does all this love go? How much more can his heart hold? Her every movement a symphony recorded by his eyes to be played back in his memories. The conductor, God. He swirls His baton as Angels play the Heavenly tunes. She dances to its rhythm and beat. Who doesn't love being loved. Dreaming of the day of Above Cognitive, together.
Why! He knew. Need. He needed her. The last piece of his puzzle of life. But how to hold the piece and place it to complete it? To fulfill the need. To fill the last empty spot. Need, one of the many reasons he loved her. A love constantly flowing from life's spigot into the lake of his heart. Or, is it an ocean never to be filled. He prayed it was. He never wants to quit loving her. Excitement, joy, happiness, and feeling whole. Her gift to him. He waiting for her. Waiting for her to find the strength for that moment to present it to him, to herself. Her gift to herself. Her to determine she deserves it. She. So special to God. So special He brought her to the gate of Above Cognitive. Just take his hand; His hand.
A haunting question. Is an ocean large enough to hold all his love. He giggled. He knew God's oceans were of spirit and spirits know no bounds. His task, he accepted. A lifetime of trying to accomplish the impossible. Filling an ocean of God's. For as his love for her grew, so did his love for life, his love for God. Only his love for her more than his love for God. God knew and accepted for He was God. God understands the minds, hearts, and souls of the living and dead. Above Cognitive would explain it further to them, together as one.
How? Do the sands of this ocean rise with the rising of his love. How? Do they lay on the sands and bathe in the rays of His sun. How? Do they make the dream become reality. How? Do they make God happy. Haunting question. How? Does his love keep growing. How does she make him so happy. The answers he knows. He 'feels'. Above Cognitive. Only unknown question, is it real or but a continuing story of ending words.
Leap Into the Fire
The flames roared. Hands pushing her from behind. Whispers, "Leaf into the fire." Scared more than Satan's sin, now. Much more. Terror more than just any fear. She could feel the heat. Hands pushing harder. She pushing back. Legs locked into the ground. A God save me moment, "God, save me!" Singeing of her eyebrows by a leaping flame. Burning flesh to come. Oh, she is in her bed. Calm before the storm. Sipping water from her nearby night stand. What a relief. Spilled water. No, wetness. Her eyes saw down the road. People of the church to continue the dream. Pitchforks, torches of fire, and yelling and screaming of a mob. Lynch her. Where is the tar? "Leap into the fire." Where to run? Where to hide? Chains around her feet. Doors of the house will surely not hold. Torches to the roof. Burning of walls. No, escape. "God, save me!" The ceiling engulfed in fiery red and yellow blaze. She becoming one with the floor. Down it comes. Hair first to burn. Then, clothes and skin. To awake from such a dream with a question, "Was it real?" Are dreams real. Does the Aura Gate open to Above Cognitive to God.
Do dreams have meaning. A question not, for surely they don't. Yet, she thought, and what they meant. All these horrifying dreams. No, she will not leap in the fire. He came to mind. All the history books he read. A story he wrote. Gas coming from the showers. Where the ovens trying to cleanse the evil done. The inferno inside burning flesh; not the souls of the death. Was there a message in her dreams and thoughts? How does God allow evil to exist? How does one appreciate life and living without there being evil; death? How does one stand up to pitchforks, torches, and walls of fire. How does one leap into the fire? She sought answers. No one spoke. How does one find strength, will power, and fortitude to make it to the gate. To grab one's hand and enter into the land of unknown. Land of Spirits. Above Cognitive. Tonight, God, no dreams.
A sleep of peace. Pleasing as could be. So refreshing. Turn, feet on the foot. Morning air so fresh and alive. "Thanks, God." A look into the bathroom. Brightness of rising sun reflecting off the curtain blades. Burst. Breathing flames walls and above. There he stood knee high cuddled on the floor. Too scared to move. Her scream echoed the silence of the universe. 'Feelings' she knew not she had. Gushing from her heart and soul into the abyss of the seed of Satan. More than love, need, or want. No time to question. She knew what she felt, just not its name. "Devil be damned!" Diving into the fire. It was gone. Still no questions. Only helping hands to him on the floor. As she touched his hand, no more was he. Gone. "You cannot have his spirit until your heart beats next to his. Then, you will be the mother, the woman, of your destiny. Entering Above Cognitive. Beginning the happiness of your family."
As quiet as a mouse, he entered the room. Not a word spoken. Not even stares. His eyes on his plate. His mind anywhere but. She looked into the palms of her hands. The lines in the left hand formed his face; those of the right formed her. What did it mean. Memory of what she felt still there. But no seen flames. Only the evil of the Devil in the air. "Leap into the fire," she heard. The name she found. Blessed. God's love and faith. Swollen did her heart and soul become with her new found love of Him and him. Beyond the Aura's Gate into Above Cognitive. She rose from the chair knowing 'more' to come. As he saw her near, he dropped his pen. Would there be more words to his story of Above Cognitive, tonight.
Reflections: Morning Window
The playful squirrels frolicked in the light dew of the grass. Birds chirping and fluttering among the seed feeders. The open pool filling with early Autumn leaves. Yet, her eyes saw none. They were looking pass it all and beyond the woods. Into her mind, "Just seems so right." To fight what she was taught. The Holy Bible. The words of God. Interpreted by man. Or, maybe the Satan within each man. Focus of her eyes, now, the reflections of the window. Her soul. The stepping into the entrance of Above Cognitive.
Of course, the eyes she first saw. Not now. To face her deep thoughts and feelings. Not now. The softness of her flowing hair. Such a calming effect of preparation for the eyes. His fingers stroking the curls. No! "Just seems so right." Her cheeks and lips. No, salvation. His kisses touching her heart. No! "Just seems so right." As her eyes met her eyes. The lightness and darkness rushed from the reflections of the morning window. She becoming one with the reflections. "Why can't I let him in. Just seems so right." She now 'feeling' the need for more. More than the words of man. Need for Above Cognitive and the journey.
The dreamland of heart and soul she entered. Dreams of spirit. She loved him. She wanted to be more with him. Fears of the past the Devil brought forth. Fear he was like the others. Need she had. Reflections of all from her past and present went by her eyes. Her need they all failed. Her need for him she felt but felt guilty for it was wrong by man, by Satan. "Just seems so right, in the eyes of God." In the eyes of God. As she turned and she saw his eyes. The journey to more. What excitement to live Above Cognitive.
He watched her stand in front of the morning window. He reflected on all he did. He reflected how she was everything he dreamed of. He reflected on "Just seems so right in the eyes of God." How does he give up on God? He will never give up on her. Her reflections shone on his heart and soul. She was part of him. He needed her. He reflected on a family of three. Her family. She turned and stared into his reflections. Would their reflections become real in the journey to Above Cognitive. Or, where the reflections the continuance of his story of the written words of a man."
I Had This Dream Last Night
Oh, the prettiest of birds flew towards the sun. A blast of air, of wind. Feathers of red and blue floated down. Tumbling and rolling through the clouds. Fingers lifted it up and it flew towards the sun again. As flying the feathers transformed into larger mottled brown and white wings; a raptor beak of young white pluming into golden yellow. Towards the sun she kept flying. Higher and higher. In the distance, her bald eagle eyes saw a crown hovering over the sun. In a golden glow of before the sun, a throne of marble so royal. Red carpet with sparkling silver fringes lined the walkway. Steps of craved names: truth, compassion, composure, needs, duty, wisdom, love and faith. With the last sweeping stroke of the broom, the steps were finally clean. Hours of wiping here, wiping there, dirty rags and clothes. Sweat dried and dripping. A smell of dirt and filth. In the staleness of the air, the voice with lifting fingers drifted above, "A one person staff; still a queen." Her rewards await, Above Cognitive.
He seeks not a kingdom to rule, but to be ruled. Warrior once but so tired of the fight. He bathed in his blood over the years becoming a Christian of God of high standings for he was saved. Not once but twice. To continue the fight, to continue the journey of the endless tunnel. Will there ever be light. His last fight with the haunting of her hate. He followed his heart, as he was told by Him, yet, believers did not believe. Now, he bears the cross of the One. Will he make it to the hill and the waiting nails. She wishing to fillet him like a fish and, then, toss it all away. The smile on her face with the first hammer blow. For the longest, her smile grew. Wiping the sweat of her brow, his blood ran down her face to her neck finding her heart. The burning, the heating sensation, as she heard his words, "Father, forgive her for she knows not...." For a moment her heart stopped with his death. With the glee of Satan, it started again. She knew now the ways of evil . Tears no more. Drops of acid down her face. In the thundering air, the voice with lifting fingers drifted above, "She is forgiven, my son." Her rewards await, Above Cognitive.
I had this dream last night. The pain through my hands and feet. But all like, an endless tunnel, dark and empty. All the same. No beginning. No ending. All the same. Only the pain. The morning was bright except for the pain. He saw her standing there ready to start the day. Without a word, for she did not speak to him, he did what he could to lessen her day of toil. For is that not love. She questioned not, not a word. He could feel her hate, but it was not about her. He could not ask her to forget what was in her heart. It was her battle with Satan. He could only but show his love. For in his love, he knew God would be there for her. For is not God, the God of love. And he had faith that God could read his heart and soul. As she dusted him away, in the dust, the voice with lifting fingers drifted above, "I will fight by her side for her." Her rewards await, Above Cognitive.
I had this dream last night. The light of the tunnel came into sight. His heart raced as did he. Would it explode before the light. Just one second of light all he sought. Run and run all he did. Closer and closer. Near bursting. Could his heart take more. From the seed of Satan at the bottom of his soul, rose the ugly head of evil. One last chance for the Devil to take his soul. In the spirit of His light, came a sword wielded by her. "No!" he screamed. "Satan will take your soul, too." What a fight for eyes to see. In the swirling air of battle, the voice with lifting fingers drifted above, "Two becoming one, Satan cannot win." Their rewards await, Above Cognitive. The journey begins with the one second of light. Or, was it the story at the end of a hard working day to give hope and meaning to a one person staff on her journey to Above Cognitive and being a queen.
Grunt
The pungent odor never to be forgotten hung over the battlefield drifting to the trenches. Days in the sun. Rotting wounds and flesh. Death hovered from body to body reaping and claiming souls. Some to Heaven above, many to the seeds of Hell. Death judges not. A job to do, he does. Trench foot no concern. His wet and damp feet and leggings far from mind. Her face all he could see. Awaiting the whistle for over the top and into Hell, again. The whistle blows and he grunts climbing the mud wall. His nostrils sucking in the unbelievable smells. Still, he sees but her face. He feels her with him and knows this is good. He feels her Angels with him. He remembers the horrors of war. The war for her love. This drives him ahead knowing he won her heart. As bullets whiz beside his head, he hears without hearing, "Your journey to Above Cognitive will continue."
The many landings he survived made this one no easier. The salt spray of the ocean waves pounding the hull of the driving craft. Prayers heard throughout, the men cowering down from the deadly fire. Praying a shell doesn't hit their craft. He hears but his prayers are of thanks to Him for her. She, his life. She, his savior. Without her there would be no Him for him. War he knew and did not fear. The battles he fought for her love. Against her will and determination to hate him. The war won when she knew without him and his love the seed of Satan would win. The things Satan brought to her mind, to her will, to turn her into one against God and His spirit. In His spirit she found the will to fight powers of Satan. With the biggest thump, the craft hit the volcanic ash and black sands of the beach. The ramp went down and grunts louder than the sound of battle went up. Forwards they all went into the guns of the Devil. God their only shield. As bullets whiz beside his head, he hears without hearing, "Your journey to Above Cognitive will continue."
Cong tunnels for miles and miles. Rice paddies of fields and more fields throughout the country side. Mosquitoes, patriots of the land; enemy of all alive. His gun hung on his shoulder as sitting for a rest. Her picture in a small frame all he could see. Canteen of water passed between all of his company. His prayer was to see her again. The softness of her skin. Fine silk hair. All above all, her voice. Her voice that of a Chosen Angel. Only if she had known. The war he fought for her might have been a skirmish instead. Shots rang out. With a grunt, cover he took for. Fail did he. Bullet striking his picture frame. She saved him again. For days and days, all he 'felt' was her. His Guardian Angel, as well. In the hospital ship, he awoke. With souls floating in the air, he hears without hearing, "Your journey to Above Cognitive will continue."
Throughout his lifetimes, he saw the future. The pains, the wounds, the blood, battles and wars, all through his lifetimes, all aimed for his last one which he saw. His ancient soul waiting for his true love. Unaware and unprepared for the battles and wars still to come. She saw into his soul. Without 'feelings', she saw no love which was there. She saw no pain, no hurt. She saw no past of his. Uncaring but to survive. He felt so much of her within. The seed of Satan fooled him good. All the wasted lifetimes. With faith, all hopes in the hands of God. All hopes to start the journey beginning Above Cognitive with her. Or all these written words of forgotten war stories to be told by veteran grunts in the memories of the journey to Above Cognitive.
Unseen Colors: Faces on the Wall
He had seen many of the wonders of the world. From the sea ice of the North Pole, south to Antarctica and such frozen land. From the Orient, through the states, to the valleys and mountains of Europe. Across seas and oceans. Cities and towns from the largest to the smallest. All the wonders, all the colors, all the amazement of new sites. All the people of so many cultures. The animals. So many that there must be a God. And then, the fishes. Sharks, whales, to the anemones. All the memories and all the regrets. All the colors; all the faces. As he laid on his death bed staring at the spot on the ceiling, he realized now all the unseen colors he missed; all the faces on the wall he saw, but none off the wall. He had his chance for Above Cognitive. No, he told her. He had all the 'feelings' he needed, none. He knew the world. Oh, how little did he really know. The journey Above Cognitive, all the new colors and faces not on the wall.
He could feel the coming of death. How much longer? He dreaded. If only I could relive it all. The things I could look for and see. All went by me the first time. The sunrises, the sunsets, on rivers, oceans, and ponds. The jumping dolphins and the yells of "There she blows." He loved whales so. The moon and stars. The colors he could have seen on his travel to see them firsthand. No, only from a distance. Earth. Her words he now understood. But more than the words, her spirit and soul. Her face would never be on the wall. The unseen colors he saw in her face. Did not believe. To blame God would be too easy. All the friends he thought he had, none could see the unseen colors. All lived to live, none sought meaning, none sought 'more'. Ancient souls not a one. He knew another lifetime waited. He had his chance but muted her calls to be more. Both lost. A journey to Above Cognitive needs to be of two of One.
He looked deeply into the spot above his head. The black, the dirty brown. All the unseen colors he never saw before. The power of the mind amazed him so. So much more than the heart and soul. Now, he understood with Death at his door. The spirit within the heart and soul. The power of God's spirit when one has an open heart and soul. Open to love, faith, and belief in one self, another, then God. He had the love and faith in her, but never the belief. She brought him God and he tossed God away. What more of God could there be than all the wonders of the world he had seen. That small spot of unseen colors. How wrong could he have been. Then, that face not of the wall he saw. Chrome white rim glasses, beard of dull brown and golden trim. Smile of laughter and jolly all at the same time. He shook with fear, fearing him more than Death. "God, forgive me for I have sinned." His laughter and jolly grew even more. No words. Only an image replacing His. Her sobbing in her hands. Seeking meaning and more. Without him, it could not be. Both lost. A journey to Above Cognitive needs to be of two of One.
The spot became the face of Death as it came down to cut him down. He found the strength to place his hands over his eyes and brow. A scythe blade next, for sure. "Darling, what's wrong? Bees?" He turned. Did not know how. He knew the voice, but could not see her. Rose bushes all around. All the colors. No questions, only a smile. "Where are you?" Through a small port of branches, he saw her. "Here I come." Never such a rose garden he saw. Red, yellow, pink, white, and so many colors more. It was the unseen colors he loved the most. Their 'feelings' lifted him up. Around the corner he came, a wall tall and long full of faces. A square of different colors for each one. He stood and stared. From behind she came. Her arms around his waist. Hands never to let go. "Our faces are not there." A puzzle look he had. "We are pass the gate. We are into the land of Above Cognitive." He knew he was not the man he was. With her, he was 'more'. Why, he dare not ask God. Only he knew the love and faith when he kissed her. The journey Above Cognitive beginning. Or, was this a story of images and false dreams of a dying man wishing for 'more', the land of Above Cognitive."
No 'More'; No Meaning
He sat at the top of the dune. His yoga position was the best he could do. The best, without any pain or ache. Knees, ankles all worn or injured from time. He had no magical word, no magical thought, no magical image. His only thought, "What do I do now?" His search had ended. He had lost all sense of love and caring. She had showed him love, his kind of love, doesn't exist. His kind of caring, doesn't exist. Faith he sought in her and God he lost. She showed him faith doesn't exist. People were people and no more. People were people with no meaning. From the dune, he saw across the ocean. In the ocean, there a volcanic island. Behind him, which he sensed, mountains with snow caps not too far away. He saw her face in his mind. He saw all of her that he loved. Also, he saw within her the demons grown from the seed of Satan for him. He thought he could fight these demons but she wouldn't have none of that. The sense of pleasure she got from the pain and torment she gave him. The excitement of seeing him eat his heart out made her sexually aroused. Her human animal nature. She only wished she could dine on his heart, as well, with it still pumping. Biting the last chew taking his final breath. With that fresh meat, she thought and couldn't remember why she hated him so. It just felt so good. As he saw the demons and Satan close the door to Above Cognitive, he knew there was no 'more', no meaning. No God.
Watching and feeling the sea gulls above, he knew there was life. They flew with such freedom and floated in the wind with such grace. But, no 'more'; no meaning. Where was God? Examining the years and years he searched while fighting those demons from his Devil Seed. The fight was so unfair, in that, what was demon and what was him. How do you fight Satan while fighting yourself? What thoughts were yours; what thoughts were his. Was it love or was it lust? Was it the nice feeling of the drink or was it the desire for over indulging to self-inflict in the name of such pleasant only Satan can truly enjoy. The pain which we say to ourselves how much it hurts but asks for more; inflict more onto ourselves. If there is a God, why not does He stop me. Why does it become the point of asking Him, "God, please, take my life. I don't want to live anymore." The many times he had said that. Then, she came into his life. Oh, she was there for many years, hidden from him by God, if there was one. Or just life. The price he paid. The answer he thought he found. The 'more'; the meaning. His entrance into another realm. The gate to the wonders of God. To go into Above Cognitive, he thought. But no God.
She took away the demons, she took away the pains, the self-inflictions continued, but she, no one understood. They lived the words of man. He lived his 'feelings' which he thought were from God. Probably, just life. The decisions he made he followed his heart. Except, those that led to self-infliction. The self-infliction for going against the words of man. No one saw. No one cared. They followed the words of man. Not even God could stop the inflictions. For though he felt God sent her to him, he always felt her hatred. For God to take it away, impossible. Only she. Though lacking the deliciously of heart, his inflictions pleased her palate. Such settling of thirst for his pain. The pain he grew to love and need. The unseen pain for no one cared. The winds of the dune forgave him for they blew so light and fair. The sensations and 'feelings' of his long hair on his neck made him feel alive. Feel there was a God. He dared not speak this to anyone for fear she would hear. Shearing his hair, she surely would. Anything to keep him away from the gate; from entering the land of Above Cognitive and the journey to God. She gave him God without knowing; knowing now, took Him away. No God. No 'more'; no meaning.
"No God," he thought at the top of the dune. As looking down the sands, he saw a figure running towards him. Getting near, "No, it can't be her." Said with a spark of a miracle in his heart. But there is no God. He closed his eyes and prayed. Rolling in the sands down the dune, words he heard or thought he heard. "I love you, too." Landing on his back and she looking up to him from his chest. "I love you, too." It had to be a dream. He awakening from a trance. "I love you, too," he heard from her lips. Before he could say either "How? or Why?" "The joys and fun I got from your pain. The face of Satan came upon me. I asked God to take away Satan's gifts. He, also, took away the inflictions of pain I felt I deserved. He opened my heart and soul to 'feelings' and I could feel you with me. There is no more excitement and pleasures in life than being loved for one's self. Knowing I can find my trust and faith in you. I need you." With her kiss, he knew there was a God. At the top of the dune, he saw the Aura's Gate, the entrance to Above Cognitive. He had hope. Or, was it all a story of the mind in a yoga trance seeking 'more'; seeking meaning with the journey to Above Cognitive its plot?
Photographs: Mind, Heart and Soul
She sat at her chair. Her desk so neat and clean. Organized from one end to the other. Why the hands in her hair and face down kissing the wood. Photos and photos on the walls, shelves, and cabinets. "Quit," she screamed. "Let me be." No photos moved. All so still. Images of loved ones gone to the Heavenly land and some young still years to go. All so quiet. Yet, the chatter. Chatter to the mind, heart and soul. "Live life to its fullest. Grow up. Be what you can be. Grab happiness when you can. Think of me. Face the thunder and lightning of living. The words of men sometimes go against the words of God. Be 'more', 'feel'. Don't forget your memories, but live your life." All the chatter. From this photo to that photo. All non-stop. Why not leave the room? She knew they were right. She knew she needed them. For afraid of the world was she. "Grow up for what. It is so much fun being a kid. Who wants to grow up? Who wants to be 'more'? Who wants to 'feel'? For what? I need no one. I am me," she said. "Grow up," the special photo said. "Time for childishness is gone. Silly is one that never wants to be 'more'. I felt the fiery hell on earth; its heat and blaze. Moving darkness with fear and fright any moment all in the name of country and family. Live your heart, 'feel'. Search for 'more'." Oh, the other photo so mad, "Don't be 'more'. Eyes of men and women and the words they will say. Don't be 'more'. Don't 'feel'. The pain and hurt to get to the gate of Above Cognitive. Do you want to be 'more'. The journey so hard. Thunder and lightning all the way." The chatter, the chatter, driving her mad. "Above Cognitive, the journey, to hell with him and Him."
From the seed of Satan within her, the Devil rose. More chatter, more chatter. Photos, bicker and bicker. Fight my battle for me, the demons said. As she pulled tighter on her hair. Her mind knew the unknown if she went this way. The loneliness she would always have. Always being a child. Others wanting to hurt her because of her goodness within. The trust of a child. Then, her heart told her to follow him. A man he is of not a kind you ever knew, but loves you for you. Faithful and needing of you. What more, your needing of him. "Fight it all you want," the special photo said, the image of him in her mind, the memories, "hate him with all your heart, but love him with all that same heart and 'more' for he will make you 'more' than any other. With happiness to come." "Happiness!" she yelled. "What is so good about being happy? I was happy so many times before and others hurt me so." The other photo, "Right you are? Don't trust him. He follows his heart and feelings. You need not that. Happiness comes not with the journey to Above Cognitive." All the photos felt God shake his head.
The soul the last to talk. The soul, the least understood by man. For the soul, the spirit of God within man. The soul forever fighting the seed of Satan within man and woman. The Devil and the demons arose from the chatter and the bickering of the photos. Her mind and heart called forth the soul to save them from such evil, such temptations. All the photos begged to be saved. The past haunted her and created such doubt in God. How can her soul call out to Him? She understood not that the soul is part of God and so was hers. God never left her and human weakness is Satan's friend. God has always loved her and had faith she would find her way past her human weaknesses and call out to Him. With faith, her soul called out, "God save me." All the photos called out, too, "Save her for us. We love her, so." The special photo was so quiet after. He knew God could only do so much. He wasn't sure if she could stand up to temptations and herself. She so much wanted to be wanted and loved, but she knew not people. Thought she did. He prayed her soul would awaken with God's spirit with such love. The other photo had no such faith. She knew the past and knew her child, but she prayed her photo would awaken her to be the real her she could be. God rolled his sleeves and His spirit awoke her soul. She could feel His strength, His love, and His faith. Temptations, Satan, all which stopped her before, no more, the gate of Above Cognitive stood before her. The key she sought.
No photos dare she of him, for fear she would be weak to her mind, heart and soul. All the evils of her past she placed on him. Only now with the new awoken spirit of God, had she found the truth. She loved him. No longer afraid of thunder and lightning. No longer afraid of the words of man. No longer afraid of herself. No longer wanting to be a child. Wanting 'more' and 'feeling' the world; 'feeling' the spirit of God. Her mind energized to be more; to move ahead to be. Her heart opened to happiness and him. To 'feel' love and not just the words of man about love. Her soul, bright and shining with its awakening to the truth of God. And for more, to journey past the gate into Above Cognitive to find more truth of God. Photos chattered no more. Bickering gone. All spoke to her through her mind, heart and soul. All from the land of Above Cognitive. Or, were her hands still in her hair writing the words of the story of the journey to Above Cognitive. All alone.
There're Dreams and Then There're Dreams
As he watched the snow fall outside his window, he prayed for his dream to come through. But he lost all hope. He knew her hatred would always be there. And even God was helpless. He prayed anyway. With the coming of Christmas and the cleansing of sins by Him, he knew she would never forgive him for him being him, but how does one give up on 'hope'? He saw the future after Christmas and saw it was no good. How does he dream away the future without losing her? He dreamed her heart would open and see the good that could be. The princess needing and wanting family to be what she could be. Yet, family never to be. The princess never to be what she could be. It torn his heart seeing the snowflakes fall for they will melt for sure like the princess in the land of reality. No dreams, no hopes, no wishes. No one to be there truly for her. Her spirit like none other for she was blessed by God. His spirit to be the princess' warrior, her champion. After Christmas, no more. He dreamed it would not be so. The blood of blood surely will say no, "It will not be." There're dreams never to be true. He forged ahead even though to the gate of Above Cognitive for then there're dreams God will make true.
One snowflake fell on the glass. He stared so deeply into it. He saw it was clear, no white. What did it mean? Not all appears as it appears. Can we say that about dreams? He watched another snowflake land. Again, so deeply he stared. It looked nothing like the other snowflake. Plain and dull to sight. No purpose, no direction. Just there. Then, with the quickness of life, another snowflake fell together with the one. Together they became one. Could their dream be his? They reached beyond the gate of Above Cognitive for now together they were 'more' ready to be closer to God. Could his dream come true, too? Her beauty ate at his heart. The purpose she gave to him. To get closer to God. She the key. She knew so. What would be greater? Her love for God or her hatred of him. His dream never to be. Sometimes Satan bars the door to God and people don't see. The gate to Above Cognitive for him nailed as He on the cross.
The warrior, the champion, battling the queen for the princess and her happiness. A dream. When does the warrior give up the fight and admit defeat, or never give up on the princess and give his last breath for her as the queen looks down with joy? Or should the glee be the queen and warrior being one showering the princess with the gems of happiness, hopes, wishes, and dreams. The crown jewel showing the little one the way to God. But how does one overcome hatred when it is so pleasing to Satan's seed in the soul. The pleasures, excitement and thrills of the animal in all of us. The queen slaying the warrior on his weakened knees. How do you stand tall against one you love? Only in a dream that is a nightmare. In his last breath, his last sight was of the princess. Unaware of the battles and the war. Her happiness he would never destroy. Forever he will have a restless soul seeking amends for failure. His love for the queen his downfall. Satisfying her hatred with his death his gift to her. Failing God his lost for never walking through the gate and beginning his journey to Above Cognitive.
There're dreams and then there're dreams. There're dreams that come true and, then, are reality. There're dreams that will always only be dreams. There're dreams that never were dreams. There're dreams that will live in death. There're dreams that never were. The princess called out for the warrior. Her dream to see him again. The queen's dream the princess forgets the warrior and all the memories. Years passed, or was it days. The princess laid down in a field of clover. Flew down an Angel and touched her forehead. Her dream became reality. The warrior thanked the Angel and God. With the princess' head in his lap asleep, he stroked her face and forehead feeling the still warm touch of the Angel. In the distance, he saw the queen. Helpless to draw his sword as she got near him. Standing above him, he saw her hand near a dangling dagger on her side. A cry of victory and his death on her tongue he felt coming. "We, family. I do love you, too." There're dreams that come true and, then, are reality in the land of Above Cognitive. Beyond the gate. Or, is it all a dream of written words of the continuing story of the journey to Above Cognitive and the final reward?"
The Christmas Tree's Confetti
"God, I owe her so much. How do I ever repay her? With my eternal love!"
The ninth hour neared. No strength but to raise His eyes. The sun shone so bright. Yet, all living spirits saw the darkness that came with the light. He saw the day of His birth. The day His journey begun to reach the Aura's Gate to the Above Cognitive. His destiny. Foretold by His Father, the Lord. The straw was dry to the touch. No crying for He was cognitive of who He was. His soul devoid of the seed of Satan. He anxious to begin his journey to more. The three wise men approached with their gifts. The poor shepherd boy had none. Rushing to the caves, he gathered some unused scrolls left by religious scribes. The most unusual and rare thing he knew. But so plain. How to create a treasure of the world? He thought for a while, then inspiration from the frolicking and playful lambs and kids. Their colorful fleece, some short haired, some long, floating and swirling in the air. Coming down with such delight. Strips of scroll, narrow width. Long and short, some squared. Little more color needed. Red dye and blue/black ink. Thankful to the scribes and rabbis. As the wise men knelt, laying their gifts. Out of the air rained the confetti. Cooed did the baby with such joy. The feelings of the new colors and touch. The same now as He sees in the distance the shining gate of Above Cognitive and His Father's planned celebration.
The ninth hour. His eyes dropped for their last sight, "Mary, my lady from Magdala. I await to see you again. In this world and beyond. One day, the confetti together." With the closing of his eyes, all seeds of Satan died and replanted again in all souls to start anew. His Father forgave all mankind. The wishes of His son. All cleansed. Satan just laughed. Knew it would not last the minute. Though unliving, He felt the hands and ropes on him. He felt the movement to his resting place. Heard all the sounds, even the rolling of the stone. When it settled, the confetti fell. Reborn in a rising of body and soul on that faithful Sunday. He saw her eyes again. The love and faith. Laws of His Father cannot be broken even for Him. Two becoming One in entering the gate to Above Cognitive. Oh, non-believers, soul of one can be of Earth and the spirit of God and still be one.
His visit that day so sweet, but short in man's time. In its end, He ascended meeting her soul at the silver gate of moving on. She arose to the sun walking to the door. Looking out, she saw the confetti fall with His eyes. She knew as One the journey begun. He loved her even more as they journeyed together. Letters and words of man cannot describe a world of spirit. Nor the time for a journey through. The end being the beginning standing in front of their Father all being One. The confetti falling. The planned celebration. Showering the love and faith of a young, shepherd boy. Day of His birth lives throughout from one day to the next. Man chose one of his days to celebrate Him and His birth. Christmas, the day of inspiration to follow Him and Her through that silver gate. One's guide the Christmas tree. Birth, resurrection, the trinity and new life. The Christmas tree pointing to the gate and journey of Above Cognitive and the falling of confetti.
The tea so nice and sweet. Softness of the cushion relaxing. The star this year touch not the ceiling. Ginger bread, hearts, elks and deer, so many more beautiful ornaments. All seen, yet unseen. She all on his mind. And all smile was he for all other thoughts and whirlwinds were gone. All the hopes and wishes he found in the Christmas tree. Love, faith, and rebirth all to be had. If she too could only see the three wise men approach with their gifts of rebirth. Confetti would fall on the Christmas tree bringing the love and faith of a young, shepherd boy. For The Father, His planned celebration of two being One would be fulfilled beginning the journey of One through the Aura's Gate into Above Cognitive and standing in front of The Father all being One, as the confetti fell. Or, may this only be a story of Above Cognitive told by shepherd boys tending their flocks.
The Christmas Family
Hours of darkness and rain. Empty tanks and quick stops. Rush to beat Father Time and the ending of that day. Lights in the rearview mirror. Fatigue eyes seeing blurred beams, yet his mind, the images clear of days gone by. Brothers and sis, and then, that red-headed mom. Dad, crazy in love, with camera not. In his anxiety, he remembered his days courting mom. The red hair told the truth. The click. Caught the moment. The Christmas Family, oh, but the other days. Presents and gifts, one or two each, those were the days. Today, mom's gift a Polaroid. Memories it brought, its photos in future years. Blink of an eye, wag of the wheel. Whew, close. Tires stood fast. Unaware of the true meaning of Christmas back then. Years and experiences have taught him many secrets everyone should know. It is the key that opened his door, and hopefully, the gate one day, he was chasing to be with tonight. Family was his life. He meant to keep it in his journey to Above Cognitive.
The fire blazed in the orange-red chimney. Her eyes focused on the star above the darkened Christmas tree. No lights, though there. With a flick of a switch, all would glow. Tonight, all prayers. Some for forgiveness; some for him; most for her, the one asleep in the bed. Family all in her heart, including the one of partial songs bouncing up and down on the wooden floor with a baby young. Falling asleep like tonight but in his arms or broad shoulder. Mother watch over your child and pray. The world can be cold without the warmth of Him. He was in her heart, tonight, as well as, he, always. It was she who was lost to her heart and only now has she found it, again. Faith from the smile of a sleeping child as she looked in. God forgave and asked her to forgive herself for losing Him. "Tonight, find your Christmas Family. Begin that journey with him to face Me after the land of Above Cognitive."
He knew sometimes God was taking the steering wheel. Lines of white, or were they yellow. This sign said what, or was it that. The hours became fewer and fewer. The miles to go shorter and shorter. He longed for The Christmas Family locked in his memory. The strength of his mother all knew; the weakness of poor dad known, too. After his father's death, the truth be known, poor dad was mom's strength. The strength of the family. The Christmas Family faded away. With the last few miles, he relived the many years of the past and long-forgotten experiences. With just 10 more miles to go, came the memories she took away. The lightning thundered but no rain. The booming cracks and flashes brought tears. One more mile to go and the skies cleared. The moon had hazel eyes and so full of hope. Oceans of love mean nothing if it is all only from one. The driveway. A few more feet. Will your Christmas Family await, or be dashed to the seeds of hell? Will his key shine bright and open the door for two to become One in the land of Above Cognitive?
Still Christmas night, as he left the car so quick. He needed not to open the door to know. He felt her love so strong as he neared the house. The door opened by the hands of God. "Our Christmas Family complete," she shouted with a hug. He now saw in his mind the Christmas lights outside the house; he saw the Christmas tree lit up so bright. The cup of tea she was sipping on. Kisses waited as they rushed to the Star of the Christmas Family. "Hush," said God, as they looked in. Asleep with a rainbow teddy bear, the brightest star since His birth. She awoke, half-asleep. As they all hugged, even God, their wishes went out, "Merry Christmas! to all the other Christmas Families." A click was heard. The key opened the door to their journey as One to Above Cognitive. Now, the kiss. Or, was this only a story created in front of a fire place on Christmas night about a journey to begin Above Cognitive?
The Christmas Doll
He longed for her eyes, even with the hate. It has been a while and he wished. Now, was it her love she feared that kept her eyes away. No reason mattered for the lost he felt. Her hazel eyes pierced his soul and opened it to the wonders of God. Without, his soul closed. God even failed in opening it, again. Parading around and around the iron fence all the faces and noisy crowds he saw nor heard not. Her eyes. He needed her eyes. He loved loving God, but He was second to her. Woman he hoped would have mercy on him. Her eyes held all his love. To see them, again, and to end the daggers wounding his heart. What was she afraid of he had to ask? Did love scare her so. The tapping of her fingers on his hand to wake him from his nap he felt her desire to be free. Free to be loved for herself. Free to be more than she ever could be without his love. His love was there. What held her back? Black spears of wrought iron and fancy design did make the fence. Old Jackson reared his horse to show how proud he was of his fence. As he walked around one more time the square, the bells of St. Louis the Church rung out. He felt the tears of Angels for his plight. With each drop, he took on their sorrow. How much more could he take. Mercy on him; mercy on her. The journey to the gate of such wonders should be of joy and enjoying the time of being two before Above Cognitive becoming One.
If she had any thought of his love growing away and being gone, the furthest from the truth the cliché. As he rounded the corner, the street sign said "Royal Street," and a few feet more, the big display window caught his red eyes. The sun shined into the window that day. All hope and dreams he saw in those eyes. The Christmas doll of an Angel. The eyes were still as blue waters but saw into his soul. The hair flowed with curls to match your face. The whiteness of a tan in rays from the beach, or from fires of burning demons. Lips with the color of faith red and softness of the clouds. And of course the wings. Tint of pink lining the white. Shadows of ashes grey here and there. Her shape unhid from the silky gown. If the sale sign didn't speak, awaiting her breath he would have been. No love or need. Just a spark of memory of the one he truly loved. His longing worsened for his only One. He dragged himself away down the walk. With turns and quick steps, back again was he. His journey repeated over and over. His hope one day to find the key. The key to a new journey straight ahead through the gate of Above Cognitive.
Shadows of the buildings across the street draped the window more and more. Time to leave and quit the journey was near. Crossing the eyes a shadow begun. This last time the eyes were so hazel. The urge to pound his head so great as he saw the life within the eyes. No, it cannot be. He looked, again. No movement of eyes, but the lips. More moist than before. His head from one side to the other. It cannot be. The hair, the curls, the wind blowing through. Cannot be. The glass, no fans to see. The wings cannot be flapping. He rubbed his face and brows. No sweat in his eyes. Her shape shook him to his core. He saw in his mind the envy of painters and sculptors from the Renaissance. He giggled picturing the wise Greeks gathered discussing the meaning of life, as he swore, she took a breath of air. All the more he thought of her, the one of true love. The longing now to open his soul to the spirit of Christmas this Christmas Day. The need to rush home for he knew she was his key, their key, to Above Cognitive and each other.
"Guts to get in the car," a yellow Camaro. This no movie. Unlike Transformers she had fears. Closer to home he came to comfort her fears. He smiled from a memory. She walked down the lane towards home; towards him. Rushing by a littlest of Angels and her dog. He stood waiting for his heart, for her to bring. The beauty what could he said. Each step she took, he took, waiting no more. Closer they came her heartbeat grew louder. Walking side-by-side back home her fear more than her beating heart. Today, this Christmas Day no more fears. To hell with bigotry, bias, and pompous eyes. Turning into the lane she stood the far end. Out he got from the car. No more walls or obstacles between them. She was his strength today against his fears she had no love for him. As she got closer, more of the Christmas doll came to mind. Within a foot she stood, he saw blue in her hazel eyes; then, green. No, it cannot be. The wind blew her curly hair across her matching face. No, cannot be. With a last step, arms around her waist. Shook to the core did she. As they hugged, he felt wings around his shoulders. Cannot be. With a kiss, he found the key to continue the journey of two becoming One. Or, was it all about the writing of a story about Above Cognitive in an old history town of New Orleans.
The Christmas Scream
Watched her face intense in what she was reading. Forcing her eyes down. Grabbing, holding, her feelings in. Were they feelings? She had no doubts they were but so unsure. Feelings unknown from the past. The sensations she felt were new. Was this really love? The things she did for him were they just being nice or more. Emotions hot and cold due to him. What does it mean? Why does he do the things he does? No other man would? The words, the numbers, she had to read, again. With the intense, he saw the nervousness tingling in her. All this new to him, too. The face of brave only a puppy testing the winds. The winds were storming his heart and soul. All so new to him, too. A puppy dog will hold back, yet, eventually move ahead. New is scary, instincts for adventure said forge ahead. Forward he went, up to the brick wall. The build up, the pressures, the world, the universe to know, wanting to scream, "I love you." She already knew. Would she want to hear? The audience at the table though allowed not the advance to the gate of Above Cognitive she could bring him to.
How much further could they go, he thought. Nearing dark, Bethlehem over the hill. An inn Joseph knew of his past days their goal. Towards the star. Mary tired and hungry and some pain. No donkey could they afford. Slowly, they walked. Into sight, sun nearly down, the inn cried to them. "No, rooms." All pleading to no ends. Bottom floor of house a hollow of straw. There Mary bed after her meal. In minutes, all hell broke out. The Christmas Scream heard through the world. Was it Mary from the pain? Or, the Devil from the birth of such good and the taking away of sins. None. Joseph stood watching and seeing the rising of His son, screamed with the might of The Lord through the universe and all His creations. Tradition be damned. Joseph with swaddling clothes wrapped His son and cuddled Him with all His Spirit. God was of Spirit and passing it to Him. Laying Him in a trough of finest hay, Joseph took one last look and walked away. In a few feet, Joseph shook and turned to the eyes looking at him. "What?" If one looked up, the star shone brighter. Awaited His son He after He finished His journey pass Above Cognitive.
The distance of the ride fairly short. The time to get there much more than norm this time of year. The excitement built as time of arrival neared. A turn here, a turn there. There the gate. A stop. A minute, going again. The lights in the trees; the lights standing tall. What a sight. The most excitement to come. Santa, reindeer, and more filling the hearts, yet, anticipation of what was to come, a first. When done, parking to find. Walking for a short time, another gate, but quickly passed. The map, it showed the final destination of their treasure. The windows and lights more thrills, but the music took their breath before there. Brought gaiety, dancing and touching of one's soul. She was so excited. Year before it was closed. Squeezing her mother's hand, who was excited, too, through Alice's Looking Glass they went. There stood the Mad Hatter waiting for them. Though no others saw him, they did. They felt his love. His madness for them. Carousel. The young girl climbing onto the stallion steed of gems and crystals; mother got the White Rabbit wacky March Hare. The Mad Hatter in their hearts what fun they had. The minutes were like hours and days. Memories like these last eternity. The young girl and the mother passed the door and the whole world, universe, shook from The Christmas Scream The Lord let out. He did good. Awaited His Mad Hatter and she did He when as One finishing the journey of Above Cognitive.
As he closed the book, he browsed his memories. When did he enter the Looking Glass? Mad he might be, but Alice in Wonderland. No, way. But then he thought, maybe he lived in a dream. He then thought of her and her eyes down. Now, there Alice might be. But then again, Alice did enter the Looking Glass. Beware mantlepieces and mirrors. What did Kitty do? But then again, the other side of the mirror a lot more wild and crazy. Don't go through the mirror. Look not at the mirror imagining life beyond, let the mirror look at you living your life. Mirrors only good for caring of faces and looking good. Let all hell break out as your Father looks at you rising to be reborn. Hear the Christmas Scream to the world and universe as He holds you tight with His Spirit. Your faith and love warming Him. Show God He did good by your journey with him two as One through The Looking Glass to Above Cognitive and Him. Or, was she simply reading a story from a book about a journey of fantasy through The Looking Glass and imagination of Above Cognitive.
Christmas Under The Sea
"Love is a Many-Splendored Thing." He put down the book and cried. "Why didn't someone tell me I was old!" Race, today, no longer an issue. When will love conquer all? He fought so hard. He was no fighter. He prayed she was. Time to recoup from the fight. He raised a booklet of such good sight from the table nearby. Manatees, dolphins so many, even some whales. Great barracuda excited him the most. Reminded him of a story of anemones eating ants. He cried, again. How do you walk away from something you wanted your whole life because it isn't perfect to righteous men? He wiped the tears. The bold, red print said, "Aquarium Rooms Under the Sea." He reached for his phone. The number he dialed. Now, he awaited the day to pack his things. Lackless joy and excitement those days. Sights of and words from her ripped him apart. The day to mend getting nearer The spray hit his face. How was this going to work? No, sub. How do we get down? A platform appeared in the distance. Getting near, a tube high going down into the water. Ladder and steps to the top. In minutes, sliding down the tube into the land under the sea. It didn't work. His love grew, as did his missing her. His only comfort going down the tube his imagination. The wonders of the gate his eyes seeing her there to begin the journey to Above Cognitive.
Perfection is filling your heart with love and happiness. He was perfect in those aspects. The righteous cared for neither love or happiness. Nor the excitement and joy of living except their own. How to break the barriers of their bias? She had to think. Cabins in the mountains sound so good. Peaceful and time to think. Minutes on the phone and set she was. Short plane ride and there she was. Not short enough to stop all the hurt of missing him. Knowing he was there for her. Knowing he judged not. He only loved her more and more. How does she let go and become the woman she was meant to be? Was this real love? The hurt of feelings. How wonderful knowing he would always be there waiting for her at the gate. The room. The view. Breath-taking. Now, she had some idea of Above Cognitive and reason for the journey to get there, but how to get there?
Darkness, then colored lights. Darkness, then colored lights. How long? Who knew? Flop, onto a soft, air pillow. After the butt-shock and repose, his eyes opened to a most magnificent view. A whale of a manatee faced against the glass. A welcome room bigger than he thought one could ever be. Brochures lack the story telling of real. And the glass dome in the center of it all, a wonder of the world to him. All the fishes and sea mammals swimming or floating in the salt waters of the ocean sea. A deep breath he took. Definitely, no mountain air. Little strain on lungs. Unfelt, overpowered by the eyes. Even the eyes, weak to the stomach. There a small cafe and an empty table. Thought of a fish sandwich crossed his mind, but the sad look of the puffer fish changed his mind. After his order, he looked around. At the bar, no, it can't be. Her shape, her hair, no, it can't be. The rush into his heart of all the memories of all her moves. Memories brought voices, too. Every word she ever said to him, good and bad. The bad a speargun shot through his chest. The good from another time. After an order of shot of wine, only one for he wanted clear thoughts as he journeyed to the gate of Above Cognitive.
Waiting for her room she was directed to the bar. Images of snow and Christmas in her thoughts. It was near. She turned her head for a glance around. Quick return to her glass as she thought she saw him. She looked into the mirror but no sight of him, only a form. What if it was him? How long should she wait at her chair? Her eyes caught her eyes in the mirror. She saw into her heart and soul. What has more meaning? The moment or eternity. How do you not love being loved? Then, a flash of red in four eyes. Turn she did. Charge of a bull seemed mild. She walked up to him and grabbed his shirt. "I love you, too!" Still in a daze from seeing her, he awoke with the words. As her arms squeezed him as did her lips, he heard a voice in his heart. "Enjoy your Christmas under the sea." He kissed her back and held her back so close. When recovering, he found in his hand the booklet, in bold, red print it said, "Aquarium Rooms Under the Sea." With another hug, he looked at the manatee, "Thank, you!" The manatee winked. He, the One, saying start your journey to the gate of Above Cognitive. Or, was it all a story from a book of a journey past bias and bigotry to the gate of Above Cognitive?
The Christmas Price to Pay
There is always a price to pay for dreams, wishes, and miracles. He couldn't remember when it wasn't so. This time and that time. Always a price. He willing to pay for the sake of his love ones. Those times he paid for his mistakes the worse, but the times he paid for his mistakes that weren't mistakes were the most costly in price. The words had no cut to them. She sliced and sliced with them, but he knew his heart. He knew how he felt. Promises and pledges made at these times are not. Just shields to stop the slicing. If he knew the future price, he still would have paid. There is no price on happiness and the meaning of his life. His life. Without her, he had none. Only existence. So, what is life without her love. Nothingness. The times and whims of God tossed him like a wooden ship in the perfect storm. Yet, he kept afloat and sailing to his light. To his lighthouse and family. The waters and winds ripped and distorted his face. The nature of waves and their whips he understood from over the years of sailing life's waters. Strength, determination, and age his friends. His humanity of caring for her over any other, but their child. But most of all, his love, need and want of her heart, spirit, and soul. He, the Lord, wanted her to surrender her essence to him for that was His price for her, her family. There is always a price to pay for dreams, wishes, and miracles. His journey to get to the gate of Above Cognitive at a snail pace is something never seen before.
His ship took so much pounding; water filling below. And like his ship, only a question of how much longer he could last. He had prayed many times to God and God answered many. Each time he paid a price. The phantom toe he had came to his mind. "God, I need a miracle," as he struggled with the wheel. He laid his head down on it. A violent shook the ship took. Raising his head, the ship straightened its course. The waves ceased as if by command. Out of harm's way, now, the time to think of the price to be paid. What will it be? This being in the deepest recesses for all his consciousness focused on getting to his family. Bearings and directions he had none. The clouds hid the sun and skies. Antennas and much of his electronics lost due to the winds and waters. Drifting for days and days. Food and water supplies running low. Fishing, no biting. His mind clear and alert that first miracle day. Time takes it toll. Memories through his lifetime. So good at first, giving way to the not so good times. Still her image drove him. Fine woman she was, yet, the fire that stoked him, the burning of his soul needing her essence to give his life meaning; to give his life back to him. The price of his soul. The smiling of Satan. What a price to pay? Without her, he had no soul. There would never be the beginning of the journey to the gate and beyond, the land of Above Cognitive.
He had but given up on all hope. Then, in the distance night sky. A star like no other. Of course, being so wise, he thought a planet exploding maybe. The ship had some diesel left in the tanks. Use of makeshift sails and the windy days, proved frugal for such a moment. Faith he had. The star from her bringing him home. With all hope and prayers, the beaten-up wooden ship kept tugging along. Pulling behind all dreams, wishes, and miracles it could pull. He thought how she must feel. Only a minute, for he knew she was with him and he knew how she felt. Like him. Needing, wanting, caring, and all the love in the world. It took time for her to learn to see the beginning of Above Cognitive and what it meant. Only a taste, such concepts only for those special to God to see. Vain no. All men and women can see if they looked into their hearts, souls, and the spirit of God, but most, their sight is of man, missing the quintessence of God. How much more could the wooden ship go. So, battered and worn. As if it opened its eyes to the star, it found new strength and might to continue the fight. There in the distance a blink of light. Or, was it just his eyes and wishful thinking of the one to make him whole? The one to hold his hands and being their journey to find meaning of Above Cognitive and its journey's end.
The scope at his eyes and the rising of the sun. The star still there brighter than in the night. It looked like a lighthouse, or could it be just a reflection of light from shiny glass. Push on did his ship. With each inch ahead he saw more. Soon, a lighthouse it was. His heart leaped, only to crash with the puttering of the engine. Sails and much more tossed overboard to lighten the load. He banged his head against something. "What more!" Toot. He heard behind a few hundred feet. A polished big ship. Jumping up and down and waving of arms the ship pulled aside and tossed a line. That's all. No one called down. He just knew to hook the rope. It took awhile but soon he was near enough to see some figures on the island's dock. With all the slicing hatred of him, she grew to love him 'more'. When he saw her face, he saw tears. Joy of love filled his heart. Rope tossed down from above and his ship guided to the dock. No, hello or anything. "Thank, you!" No, reply. To heck with them, but thank you, anyway. Before he could tire the rope to the dock, her arms were around him. What a hello. The child in between. The star above which was all so bright flashed and vanished without a good-bye. With the flash, he thought what a price did she have to pay? He mentioned this to her, now, they were two being one. She said an Angel came to her when she prayed and told her there would be a price to pay. She said whatever it was she would with all her heart. "What about your soul," the Angel said. She agreed. As they walked to the shore, he saw the Christmas trees, yet, no lights. When is Christmas and where are the lights, he asked? Oh, she said. Christmas is today. She waved her arm and they were on. The most beautiful sight he ever saw except for her and their child. When entering their house, a Christmas tree with so many wrappings of gifts. "I didn't get anyone anything," he said. "You are here. That is your gift to me," as she hugged him, again. After many minutes and all kinds of fun, there was still one little gift under the tree. It was addressed to their family. The little girl ripped the gift's wrapping real quick. In the small box, just a note. "The price for your gift I paid on that Easter Day. Merry Christmas! and love to all." It was signed in their hearts and souls. In hers, he wrote with gold. Her essence he felt.
Christmas Time: God Is 'all' Things
Good Or Bad. Who wants to be homeless during Christmas time? Not he, anytime. The years he lost, but the memories still there. And Christmas time always the worse. He chose to miss Christmas morning with his little girl. He felt unfamily. The little child asleep, as well as she, when he left. He looked into the child's bedroom, "I want to enjoy His birth with you, as well as, your life, yet, I am unfamily." The door closed so slowly as did as life. The ride to where? Unsure. Staying no choice. Unfamily. In no time, money gone. Car and everything but the clothes on his back. Jobs so short. Move from here to here. "Oh, that is a nice spot." Turning the corner. Many have been there already. Holding of the nose he mastered last year. Lucky when the wood block is tiny soft. The memories and dreams never stopped. Thoughts of them always on his mind. Worse of all, the pains in his heart. Unfamily, a pounding and pounding term. A glance of a young child wishing it was his little girl. Being careful for sure. Women, the glances were short. Her spirit he would feel and know. The time robbed of the little he had. The wounds took weeks to heal. His new friend in the cardboard box told him, "God is all things. Good or bad. It is the not giving up He loves best. "What in the hell does that mean, he thought. Under the overpass he slept tonight. He saw two lizards, side by side. The journey to the gate and beyond. To the land of Above Cognitive and God.
The best time of Christmas time. Christmas morning. Who turned off the lights on the Christmas tree? Letting out the dogs she glanced through the doorway and saw he wasn't there. A little missing of him she felt. She got the courageous to speak out, "It is time to wake her." Not true. The truth, she had no courageous even on Christmas Day. She had no meaning, no more in her heart. Only be being, no more than that. He owes us so much for what he did. Who cares about him? If not for my little girl and he pays the rent, to hell with him. A tear of memory down her cheek, the violin and "I love you," so low and sweet. Oh, not true either. She forgot a long time ago, as her hatred replaced her love. "It is time to wake her," the dogs running in the open door. Another mood of his, she thought. What a pussy to my bitch. What a joy waking her girl? All smiles. Still able to carry her though heavier than last year. "Young lady, go to it." Before ripping on one of the biggest gifts, it is from Steven. Why not his nickname she thought? "Don't use his formal name. He is too old." The gift hit her heart, but then to the side. Many more to go. Still no Steven. After the last gift, or maybe breakfast time, a stop. Where is he? Empty bed. No, keys. Just a note, "I love you both with all my heart. If only people could see you, God." "If only people could see, what does he mean, Mommy." No, answer. "Let's go and eat." She had some thought on what it meant, but wasn't really sure. Only knew her heart ache. On the shelf, she of books saw, "God Is 'all' Things: Good or Bad." What did he mean by the journey to the gate and beyond to the land of Above Cognitive and God?
It feels so good when you find out why you love someone. She knew why, now. She needed him. When thinking him, she thought more of him. When feeling him, she thought more of herself. She could be more than what she was or encouraged by anyone else. It can be done if by family. Family. The word tore at her. Why did she call him, "Unfamily!" Never the term she heard before. She felt how he must have felt. She felt the worse since that Florida trip. God, how could she have done that to him. Why, didn't she hold him and tell him the truth? Why, did she let him go? She always thought she would live old by herself. She assured herself she would, now, except he would always be in her heart. The little one had such a wonderful day. Mentioning Steven's nickname so many times. The day after and the many more to follow so hard for her. From a father-like to none on hand. Time a funny thing. Some days short; some days long. Some days quick; some days slow. Several men; many jobs. All so lacking. Instead of a light of a heart and loving life too, she found some hopes only to be dashed. None about her except using her. "I hate life," became her battle flag. Oh, the fights and worries of protecting her precious. Scars of skin and soul abound. No time for memories. Days of mirrors and soft skin gone. And the days of friend gone, too. Fine people, just ain't the time. At the cafe, a latte a treat. Staring at the wall. "God is all things. Good or bad. Especially at Christmas time," the waitress quoted as laying down the cup and dish. Continuing, "A man told me this once and about the gate to the journey Above Cognitive and reaching God. The nut. Homeless guy."
"Where is he?" she shouted. "It was about a week ago. He comes to the garbage cans every now and then. She left a bill to cover the cost and tip. Out the back she went. Three big cans so green and dirty. One butt sticking out; one climbing in. She saw a cloth ripped and torn. She recognized it in a flash. Her little girl loved it so. She pulled him down. Not him. "Where did you get this?" she asked. A shocked thin-boned face, "Hmm, hmm, Steven the other day. Keeping it for him until he is back. Outpatient down the street. A little liver work." She rushed for she knew where the place. Reading the sign, "Mask Needed." She heard an uneven voice leaving the place. "I'm keeping the mask." Faces met. His so narrow, as his body whole. Eyes met as did their hearts. They heard the vibrations through the air, skin, and then their souls. "God is all things. Good or bad. Let this be a lesson to you both." In the hallway, she was. "Hell with the dogs," she thought. She ran to his room as he was running to her. "What a bad dream," he said first. "I know, me, too, " she replied. "Hell," she said before a hug, "I won't lose you, again," with her arms so tight. She lost all fright and pride. The truth of his love warmed her so. It was many years since feeling that way before. The warmth became a fire with a tug, "Mommy, I love you. Can we open the gifts." Three all laughed. "Christmas time. Yes, you can." There was a race to the Christmas tree. The little girl won, of course. Watching her, the two heard the star, "Merry Christmas to you both. Have you learned." They faced each other and at the same time, "I love you, too!"
The Christmas Suicide
"I wish there was someone to see the world through my eyes," he said. He kicked the chair away from underneath his feet. The tightness around his throat. The struggle for air. There was none. A name crossed his mind. Judas. The town was silent except for the Courtyard of Pilate. Jeers and heckling drowning the cheers and cries. The verdict so clear. He heard it from nearby. Following days, in such a haze. Until the jingling of coins. With the coming of demons and the guilt of what he did. He could take no more. Coins tossed down to feet to those that bought him. Soon, his day in the Field of Blood. With his last thought of breath, "I try to do what is right for if not to do right, then it is wrong." The air changed and down his throat as he felt lifted. "You, bastard! What are you doing?" He heard the knife back and forth. Down he came. "How do you know there is a God? I saw it in her eyes." "How could you do this on Christmas Day! She is in the next room." With the last cut and ripping of the cloth, he came down fast. Bending over him from his weight, her back and spine. The pain. She couldn't hold him long. Losing his coughing took a short time. Still bent over, she closed her eyes and tightened her fists. The pain. "Sometimes you have to learn to enjoy being loved. Love comes with a cost." No, doubt, she was paying the price. She did have to smile and laugh. Why she loved him so. He saw her smile and knew it was OK. He thought, "Who decides who inspires you?" He loved her so. Lower this time, "You, bastard. Why, today?" His reply, "Demons have no faces. Pretty ugly cusses. They took my love for you away. No meaning or more in life." "Not being a fool in life sometimes can be boring. You ain't boring," as she slapped his face. "What do I need to do to prove my love?" "You just did. I love you, too," he said. Continuing, "You took away the demons months ago, but last night, they came back with vengeance. My head hung low. The thoughts I dare not tell you." "No, I don't want you to. No more of the past. The future is asleep in the next room. Family is what she needs. To hell with demons and all that shit. No, the Christmas suicide won't be. We will begin your journey to Above Cognitive and beyond and when we stand in front of God it will be two as One and the love of our child being three. Whatever that nonsense of yours means. Simply, we will be family with God."
A year went by. A better family they were. The demons came knocking at his door the night before His birthday, the Lord's. They brought Judas and all his guilts and doubts. His loss of faith of his friend and, most of all, loss of faith of his God, then himself. He hung himself from a tree. There he was days on days. Then, to the land he became. From light to darkness, he went. The gold coins of Judas that they, the demons, threw at him became spears and arrows piercing his heart and soul. The blood on his hands he knew not where it came. We all have sins. Darkness took his mind. Who was he and what was he worth? With dancing and glee, the demons of no faces smiled their wick smiles. One more day the Christmas suicide. He pulled the sheet of the bed close to him. Ready to rise and leave the bed, he felt something on his wrist. The softness of her palm and slender fingers; the gentle scratching of her beautiful, long nails grabbed him so hard. "Sweetheart. It is all but a dream. We are One, now and forever. Above Cognitive. Go back to sleep. Tomorrow, the little one and we, family, will celebrate the beginning and end of our journey, Him." He hugged her close and went to sleep. They as One.
The Christmas Sugar
The trip was nice. The bridge over The Wide Muddy. Boats and tugs. Refinery, grains elevators, and more line the shores. Bored was he. Mom's stories, nothing new. Few miles and a few miles, black smoke taking to the sky. Two columns or was it three. Soon, a smokestack named, 'Raceland'. Sign, 'Raceland Raw Sugar'. He knew many years ago, the sugar cane was sweet, now, no sweetness at all. Sugar cane stalks made to produce more. Hell with taste of the stringy sugar cane meat. More means dollars, nothing more. He looked again, with a glance, for driving was he. The black and dark gray smoke of flue gasses the brush of an artist. The figures and shapes rivaling those of the Renaissance days. With a snap, his heart broke. There she was. His lost love. "Oh, don't miss the turn," his mother said. He more concerned of hitting the tree. Across the bridge they went. One side of a bayou looks much like the other. Just a couple more miles down and, then, the butcher shop of her cousin. But first, visit with family souls and memories. Turning into the roadway to the church, he saw Mary at His feet. With tomorrow being Christmas, why he thought of Easter Day? All he could think, "Sometimes, God fails." Wiping his tears, he still found the parking lot. It has been a while, so they both had to recollect where all the family laid, or at least, their bones. Mom moved slow, but he was in no rush. He knew no souls be there. Heaven or Hell by now they be. Let's start from the front and move to the back, near the car. The two crosses whitest of paint. His first thought was of her. Next, did these two make it to the gate and beyond to Above Cognitive and to Him.
"She was a bitch," mother said. "To all but me. Don't ask me why." His first thought, "You two much alike, then." He had to wonder was she truly a bitch. Oh, would he have loved meeting her. Her strength. Maybe he still would have his family. The stories mother told before. Cattle across The Wide Muddy that terrible year. No bridges for cattle even then. Mother raised from her knelt holding his arm. He was glad she was so short. Tears in her eyes. "He was such a simple man. Valentine, the stone; he the glue." She coughed a little. "Damn," he said, "a story coming." She told of the time with the two mules, or were they donkeys? Time was of the essence. The wagon needed to be moved. The mule pulling the wagon wouldn't move a stitch. Valentine beat it for several minutes. Theodore laughed and laughed. Valentine burned red and it wasn't Valentine's Day. The coldest steel orange filling her eyes." "The mule watching is in heat. The other won't move away from her," "Like you, you old goat." She laughed, too. "Didn't notice." Theodore took the watching mule away. The wagon got there on time. "What's the point, mom," he asked. "Mules are animals by the book. So are old goats." He chuckled, "I am no goat." He wanted more, he thought to himself. Her image was in his heart and soul. All he could think, "Sometimes, God fails." Do mules make it to the gate, crossed his mind? Animals cannot journey pass the gate for Above Cognitive is beyond their reach, yet, God's spirit is with them as all living things.
The white tomb was next. Mom's tears held back behind the dam. He could see the building of the waters. Emotions were missing in her, even in her old age, except for the grandchildren so near. He remembered not once the words, "I love you," from her lips. She stood as a bear over her cubs. Never a word of love. Why, he wished she, the one that saved him, would say the words? She never did. Even when family. He knew she did; she did, too. But, dare she say the words first. Or, even at all. Showing weakness and feelings in her no way could she. Truth be told, she was scared. Even her dream of family, wasn't sure she could, though some doubts. He shook his head as looking at his great-grandpa's name. His middle name, too. Wondered what he was like. Without asking, "He was a gentle man. He was a gentleman of the finest kind. He loved my mom as much as a dad could." "What about great-grandma?" he asked. "Quiet with long black hair. Much like your grandma. But when she spoke, her words were the law. Even grandpa wouldn't buck her. He held her so dear, as did she for him." His imagination ran wild with their love and devotion. Only one child, grandma. The grandma he little knew, only the dimes she gave him as shoveling him out the door. Image of her sweeping the front porch. His one child of the greatest spirit. Another dream of family. Dream of that damn gate of Above Cognitive haunting him, driving him to achieve more to get to God: "Sometimes, God fails."
"How can God fail?" his mother asked, as they walked to the last tomb for the day. An uncle and two aunts, one being his mom's big sis. He remembered his aunt so little. Once saving his butt from his uncle after being an innocent child bad. She died too young for the goodness she was. Another wish there. He would have known her more. "Yes, she was a special sister. We were so close. I looked up to her as my big sister as she took care of me. Everyone loved her." Mother never prayed much. Her eyes closed for a moment. He could see all the memories of the two in her mind. Why does God take those so young? His answer must have pleased her. She smiled at the end of the moment. Her brother and his wife, fine people. He knew them for the last few years of their lives. Too young to remember more. Black sheep and family kept them away. He enjoyed and loved them their last few years. Good and fine people. Her image and the little one. Family. "Time to go, mom." "Ok. Cousin and his butcher shop down the road." With a turn, there his Guardian Angel. A statue with a Mother's Smile. "My son never fails." He perceived he was still on his quest for her love, faith in his heart, again, that he had a chance. Faith in her child. The one dying on the cross; the one sleeping in bed. The door closed and down the road they went. The journey to the gate and beyond in his view for his quest wanted family, too. "I don't fail," He said, as watching the little one sleeping in bed. "Tomorrow, a fine day of Santa and gifts. Mine to you is family with the Christmas sugar on top. Merry Christmas, my Sweet Pea."
The Christmas Permanent
The sun rose, again. The day started like every other. And, his mind going through the motions. Blinders on and he saw only one world. Like a plow horse, he followed the pull of the reins. Except his reins were tied to the same old day. Never to the left, never to the right. Just straight ahead. Friends and family, he knew not the terms. They knew not him, either. Today, the same day. Coffee tasted the same as the day before. No urge to try something new. The waitress bothered not to ask what he wanted today. Always the same. Ham and scrambled eggs. Pepper, no salt. No smiles, only casual conversation for those passing by. This day, "Merry Christmas." Meant nothing to him. Just another day. No thoughts of the gate or beyond Above Cognitive nor even God.
The shock on his face. The dragging chair made such a sound. Down sat this this beautiful woman. This fine lady. Was the inevitable finding him? "Hi, The Christmas Permanent Man. Been watching you for a long time. Same dull routine every day. Love it. Envy you," she said. He was neither mad nor angry. As he sipped his coffee, "I have a job to do. May I ask what you want." Quite bluntly she said, "You!" Every Christmas for so many years, the same little diner, the same little chair, only the waitresses changed here and there. He became known as The Christmas Permanent Man. Unchanging to life or time. Neither, meant anything to him. He did was he had to do; what was expected of him. Day after day. "I am an Angel," she said, "I have been sent down to Earth to teach you there is more to life than breathing. There is fun and happiness." "Why do you bother with such things with me? I do not want more or less. Just what is mine," he clearly stated, "I don't want to be silly; I don't want the cheap thrills, I don't want any thrills at all." A tear ran down his face. The first ever seen over the decades people knew him. She smiled. She struck oil. "I will show you the inevitable if you change. Show you the permanent if you remain the same." He shrugged his shoulders, "Who really cares?" The tears were forming on her eyes. She remembered Him, the Lord, touching her on her shoulders once and she knew He cared. She felt His spirit and His truth, even more. "Touch my hands. Past, present, and future ours. Above Cognitive waits." The journey begun and God winked.
The bird on the ground. No memory of the finger pulling the firearm. He watched as it fell. Today, he was feeling its heart; its pain the whole way down. No thoughts of God or anything before. He saw the life of the bird as it struggled for breath. Its hunger waiting for a worm. The nest warm as was her sisters and brothers. Soon, flying the skies with the freedom of the winds. Food, shelter always a concern. Times did allow for the frolicking and playing with her sisters and brothers and others. That one time, the eagle screaming down upon her. Up, down, all around, here, there, finally, in a cloud losing the hungry predator. The minutes, maybe, the hours, catching its breath under the hanging rock. The entire time, he felt it all. He was the bird. He saw the sights; touched the air; the feathers of the other birds; the hunger, rain falling down; sitting on her eggs and nest. All he felt and more. Feeling the bullet pierce her chest ripped his heart. How could he? Were her eggs hatched? Would her chicks die. The coming down and hitting the ground. Her burial plot. His days of cheap thrills and the lack of more drove him to The Christmas Permanent. In a coughing of her voice, the Angel felt all that he did. And all the times in his memories that drove him to his nickname. She started to understand him. But fought back. Not allowed. The journey, let's continue to the gate and Above Cognitive and one day God, as He winked.
"van Gogh, was your art worth the price you paid never to see your fame?" the Angel said, "None ever understood the man. Now, your future." A little fear here. Who wants to gamble on what is to come when it is your life? "No, please, not. I am satisfied with my life. I seek not more or less for all that I have done." "Forgiveness is the Lord's way," she replied. He sensed something touched her heart, as it did his. He said back, "If it has to be done." The day started like every other day. The diner the same. The Christmas Permanent Man whispered behind his back. For years this went on. Until Christmas Day, he woke no more. He didn't cry nor weep. He didn't feel sad. He didn't feel at all. He walked with his head up to the Pearly Gates. She perceived she failed. An Angel never fails, until now. He listened for his name. It never came. In a soundless voice in his heart, he heard, "Go to hell." His bad outweighed his good. He started his walk down when he heard. "Go to hell! What do you mean? The man is good. Did you not feel his pain, his remorse, his sorrow?" Angels never mad. She was. She looked at him straight in the eyes with flames. "Why? aren't you mad?" she said. "I do not want more or less. Just what is mine," he returned. The words from her mouth spoke by someone else, "I am yours. I am your fun and happiness." They arose from the table and the whispers heard, "The Christmas Permanent Couple. What a fun and happy couple." The years since that first day which neither remembered. They passed the gate of Above Cognitive that day after years before beginning their journeys to the gate separate as planned. As One, they continued the journey with life after the gate. And God willing, many more years before standing in front of Him. "The Christmas Permanent Plan worked. God never fails. Merry Christmas!"
The Christmas Fool 2
His dreams, hopes, and wishes of the future so bright and shiny. If only he knew. Behind the curtain stood one famous for doing crooked things and the evils he performed. Fools he sought; those of innocence. Most humans so easy. Challenges he sought. His fights with the One, he had to stay on his toes. The challenges with this fool not to wake him up to the truth and push him too far. Slow burn, slow roast. Little barbecue sauce here; little barbecue sauce there. And she, her dreams, hopes, and wishes of the future dim and little light. Like a fog on a late, cold autumn morning. Slow and steady she drove the highway of life and everything else. And when she didn't, she paid the price. When to know to speed or slow down? Fool and innocent as he, yet, hiding from the world no. He wished he could. Someway, somehow, Satan discovered His plan. Screwballs to the old Man. His specialty. Before he was to be born, let's move the date as he did for her but years later. Strike one! The ump yelled. God, now, knew the game was on. 'Fool', He had to say to himself. Satan was known for cheating. Players go back to the bench after each strike. The journey to the Aura's Gate and to the land of Above Cognitive, then God, but first, first base.
The players, the fools, in the game did they have any choices. Pawns like us all. We move ourselves while being still. Only God and Satan may move the pieces. Years of waiting went by for his next turn at bat. The other players had to play. She still sitting on the bench. Those years of family and friends good as could be but with a few splinters on the bench. Now, a teen. His turn. Powder on his hands. Slow walk to the plate. He tripped, the fool, on the bat eyeing her. Dusting himself off, he got to the rubber plate. A few swings of the bat to get warm and take aim. Satan reared back for the pitch off the tip of the bat it went hitting him. He woke up in the hospital. God threw a glove defecting the ball. In this game, most things go. Her turn came in her teens, too. Satan sent some false pinch hitters to fool her which they did. Dancing around her they put her in a spin, then sent her to find that rubber plate. He and God were on the bench and lost sight of her. To guide her, God sent the only one that could save her from falling and, then, getting her to the home plate. Mom knows some things that even God doesn't know. Her hit went between first and second and ended with her baby girl. She was on first base. Two on the bench and the one at home plate clapped. She was on her way to that gate and Above Cognitive and the Coach.
Years later, it was his turn again. Standing tall at the plate. Still no man of the world, but better eyes to see. Over 2nd base, the hit went. She ran to third, he tried for 2nd. He tagged the base and was safe, but hit his noggin on the base they said. God smiled. His glove was there, again, this time for his fool head. Dusting himself off he stood with pride. He found what he was looking for. But no cheers, "You fool. Should have stayed on first." His head hung down low. He hoped she would save him with a hit. Only, so much time to go before she is at the plate again. He waited surrounded by darkened clouds all at 2nd base. Finally, he heard her name. Still on 3rd and at home plate. Man knows not the rules of the game played by Satan and God. She walked up shaking some and fearful from the time before. Satan threw thunder and lightning at her with the knowledge she was scared of both. She looked pass Satan's eyes and saw his eyes of love on 2nd base. Love can pierce the darkest clouds. Out of the blue, all the church bells and chimes rung. Merry Christmas day had come. God's screwball over the plate. Satan fumed. In the baby's face, His face, from that day, she saw the face of her little girl and found all the strength to toss away the fear. Satan leaned back as far as he could and his arm shot forward with all its might. The ball in flames at the speed of light. Her bat went back and with the grace of God and her new found strength, railed forward as a train and hit that ball out of the park. Most said it was the furthest hit ball and home run even further than those of Herman and Hank. As she came in from 3rd, she touched first base. Getting to second, there he stood. The proudest man in the world. "Let's go home to our baby girl," he said as hugging her with a beaming smile. At home, all the team ran out for they won the game. In one hit, pass the gate through Above Cognitive and to the Coach.
The crowd came into the bar with the loudest cheers. Slaps on her back and rubbing her hair. So many years since their last championship. God looked over. There Satan sat at the end of the bar. Tears falling into his glass of milk, with a shot of bourbon and more. God walked over and rubbed his horns. "Merry Christmas! The Christmas Fool 2 got you."
The Christmas Letters
Before his coffee poured, the title hit him with a jolt. "Not another one. Lord, please, quit.". Breakfast done, another one. "Take that!" said the Lord. The writings he loved, but the letters from his soul took so much. He wrote what he felt and truth to him. Others never understood, or just didn't care. How many cries do you make for only one? When do you say, "The life preserve isn't coming. Bring down your arm." Christmas near. The Christmas Letters the last letters of hope. How do you write letters not from the heart? How do you write only what people want to hear? Only a few days. He can do it. One a day. Today, two writings of his style. A letter, normally, of his day. The Christmas Letters will be much more. Prose of rhythm and rime and all flowery mush. Maybe something they will understand. Heart and his soul too much. One from Him to travel the path to the Aura's Gate of Above Cognitive and beyond.
"Going down the lane for the last time." No, can't go with this line. Been used before, I think. Maybe, about her hazel eyes and fiery look if with a stare. When cooled, the eyes unseen. No, eyes, eyes, eyes, used so many times before. Something new. Something wild and exciting. Something that will last forever. I can't get one letter writ and I am planning so many. What gives. The challenge. I can do it. Maybe, about her smile and face and how beautiful they are. Her teeth, such a perfect shape and so white. No, no, again. All done before. Though the truth, people won't believe the words of one so in love. Let's go on. Shape. Yes, let's talk of shape. Her form and curves melt his heart and drives him wild with romance. Her hair flowing down over his arm around her neck as he leans her back to give her a kiss. Don't all the statues do such things. No, romance is so out of place. Who has romance in these days? He would probably drop her and her back would hurt more. The Christmas Letters are to be simple and give such joy and happiness. But how? Maybe, talk of her little girl. The one that brightens up the day, as well as, the night. The true treasure of God and the secret to the meaning of life the children of the world. And her little one, such spirit and special to Him, as special to me. Watching her grow with all the wonders of the world, imagination, abc's, and 123's. Smarts and intelligence being added to every day. No, who wants to hear of children these days. No, Christmas time is for good memories, the truth of the wrongs done to many of the world's children isn't for Christmas time. What to write in these The Christmas Letters? Can't talk of the journey to the gate and pass it to Above Cognitive when no one understand what cognitive means, at least, not I.
Well, the titles we have of two stories. Let's get started and think of The Christmas Letters. The first story, the first paragraph or section, I don't know. Good or bad. The readers decide. Those darn The Christmas Letters. Tonight, maybe, of how she rips his heart apart. No, no, no. Let it be of her hidden love for him and fear of letting him know. The suspense, the mystery, will she ever find the strength and tell him. No. That won't work. So many reality shows alone the same lines with more interesting twists. How about the truth of him waiting for his love, for her saving him from that horned devil? All planned by God. No, no, definitely, not God. People don't want to hear about Him. Just about old Saint Nick and sharing gifts, especially receiving them. The Christmas Letters can wait. Story two, its beginning. Baseball. What do people know of baseball, even if it is between God and Satan, that horned devil? Home runs. Been there, done that. Oh, maybe, the beach. No, too many stories of the beach already. Boy, now the stories are drying and becoming dull. How to brighten those The Christmas Letters. My soul depends upon it. Feels like the waters of Niagara Falls. Turning and turning. All twisted around the rocks and more rocks. Stories and letters, intertwined much so much. How can I begin the journey when my head is in such a spin and I am staggering left and right and all around and I will never get to the gate and Above Cognitive?
Oh, no. The Christmas Letters are more than what I thought. Includes the writings and stories on the side. How do I make all these interesting, especially for Christmas and say all the things I need to say to every one. Let me think. You think. Me think you don't think. Or, maybe, think too much. My mind battling my head, or is it my head battling my mind and soul. Or, could it be, heart and soul battling my mind and the seed of Satan in all of us. The seed of Satan what a joke. Wait! What can be more interesting than saving mankind? Saving the world. Let's not talk about how she saved me. The world is what we are talking about here. Yes. The Christmas Letters to save the world. Why hasn't anyone else think of it? Each and every The Christmas Letters say, "Merry Christmas! and Peace on Earth!" "Do you want to buy a vowel," God said with a smile. Think of what that means dare you!
The Christmas "I'm Still Alive"
The limo was eloquent in the way it spoke to the world. Even with more grace the buttons and screens touched by others but him. Assistants paid well. Owning businesses of all kinds is wonderful, but more if they are profitable, which his were. He quit counting after his first billion. That is what accountants are for. Windows of the limo tinted where no one could look in, but out, clear as day. Day seldom came in. Electronic shades always down. Money and business and having his way with women of his choosing his only thoughts. He had no feelings; he had no cares. From the days of his father and the beatings he took, pains and struggles the norm he expected for everyone. He was given; he is now giving. Enjoying every minute. Feelings he lost a long time ago. Caring gone the day his mother's face turned away from the beatings. He was no monster. His father created one. When he thought of God, he thought of his father, who lived in hell, definitely, no heaven for him. No night the same. Tonight, a drug place of white powdered riches. Things women won't do for a pleasing nose. God is no requirement for being in Heaven. Only faith he had was in himself. A man. He had no friends, but one morning in a dream he saw an outline of a man starting a journey to a gate. And, in this journey, an outline of a woman came to his side for he knew he was the man. He laughed for there were so many women and none would stand by his side without a 'morning' buzz. Therefore, a dream it was. Above Cognitive only a term in his mind, as was, that figure of God.
Blood had no effect on him. Even his own never dazed him. In the alley, this moonless night, one who had no money was paying the price. His daughter gave him what was due. Never give money to a gambler expecting him to pay his debt. "I will win enough to pay off my debt, play some for fun, and go home with my pockets filled." A fairyland more than a dream world. A fairyland never comes through; dreams sometimes do. He was high flying like a cloud until it dropped like a brick. The brick kept hitting him over and over again. His daughter rushed with the speed of her old Ford hearing the news. The blood spattered wide and far. Some hitting his shoe. Oh, we can't have that. Back him up a few more feet. For the world he lived in, he seldom got mad. It never did any good with nice old dad. And he never liked being out of control or losing his mind. Always in control. The gambler nearly gone. He had to decide live or die. It mattered so little to him. Another life. Who cares? With that thought, a car drove up. Out stepped a most beautiful woman. A knock-out in any language. A figure that wouldn't quit. The way she ran to the gambler. He watched closely her every move. No love at first sight. "Wonder what she would do for a snort?" She threw screams at him. Bounced off the wall. He motioned for her to be moved out of the way. She struggled with the heavy-set dude to no avail. Cries and tears and kicking of feet. His thumb starting down, hmmm, came to his mind. Then, her eyes hit him. A few slaps and a gut punch. Or, did she touch his heart. Did he have a heart? His thumb went up and motioned for her to be let go. She ran to her dad and comforted him. He walked fast to his limo. He sensed something new to him. The uncertainty scared him. Was he going to his limo or continuing his journey to the gate and was she the outline by his side and will they make it to Above Cognitive and God he still thought not of.
She watched with one eye as he walked away. She wanted to thank him; the hatred in her said not. Yet, there was a spark. The hospital dad went. If no charity system, died would have he for she had no money. Pride would keep her away from his caring for. The next day she came back to his room. Her little girl by her side. This day there was no limo. He walked without guards. He dressed down as best he could. The weather was getting cold and Christmas Day getting closer, so much closer. He walked into the room as if he owned it. "Oh," with a shock, "I've gotten the wrong room." She recognized him right away. With his voice, the chisel chipped a little hatred off the block. She could be civil to him. He made excuses of this and that. Staying so long. The little girl loved him so. Just something there. Minutes turned to hours. Time to go. He had no limo and it still early. "Let me treat you all to something to eat." The little girl jumped at that and mom spoke too late. A fancy place; mom and girl out of place. He told them no worries. He has a special booth in a special place. What a special place. It took their breath away. More small talk with the food; food so good. Taxi ride home he accompanied them. He had to think that night on the ride home. And several nights more of repeat performances. Each chiseling the hatred away. She wasn't sure what was taking its place. She saw in visions this journey with the outline of a man and she by his side and a gate so beautiful coming into their sights; he continued the journey beyond the gate waiting for her, yet, still no God.
His entrance this day caught him by surprise. Black jeans and shirts both the girls. Her father had died and this the day before Christmas. She pounded and pounded his chest with her fists flinging cusses like mush. He wrapped his arms around her so tight and his tears mixed with her. In a minute, or was it more, she wrapped her arms around him, too. The little girl an arm on each of two butt cheeks, crying, too. They held each for a long time. He held the staff out for her to mourn. They shook their heads from a little catnap. The little girl exclaimed, "Its Christmas!" with such joy forgetting. They both held each other; eyes fixed to their souls. Her hatred left. He felt remorse for the first time. They kissed. Then, he screamed, "We will call this The Christmas 'I'm Still Alive.' I had died those days of my father beatings and mother looking away. You have saved me and woke me up to God. I feel Him with me." If only he knew, she felt the same way, though her story was quite different. They lifted the little girl into a hug and a kiss on each cheek; only pats on the butts. Within her, she heard her dad's voice, "My prayers were answered. Do forgive him." The outlines became filled with her and him and the Aura's Gate a little ahead and listening sternly they heard at the end, "Merry Christmas! to one and all."
The Christmas Prayer
Her smile so sweet, laughter so complete,
The love shined so bright for her baby girl,
If only he knew Christmas was for him.
Two Christmases from the mouth of babes,
Everyday is Christmas to celebrate Him,
If only he knew Christmas was for him.
Window shades opened to the world,
Black and white guard dog protecting him,
If only he knew Christmas was for him.
He heard some others in the next room,
Shave today and every day? Once or twice a day,
If only he knew Christmas was for him.
The Christmas tree blinked white and color lights,
Gifts shouted, "Open me!" babbling constantly,
If only he knew Christmas was for him.
Her voice the key to his happiness, how sad,
His door to be ever closed, Satan said,
If only he knew Christmas was for him.
His Christmas prayer never to be for him,
Peace on earth for all mankind but him,
If only he knew Christmas was for him.
He felt a spirit above the tree, a blazing star,
The nails and blood were for him, too,
If only he knew Christmas was for him.
That voice the key to Him and happiness,
With His spirit she spoke from her heart,
If only he knew Christmas was for him.
The Christmas Parade Parade
The lights blue and red, policemen all around,
The time counting down as parking cars
And footsteps raced here and there.
He alone but to meet others but where?
Cool not cold so out of weather no norm,
Here they come his family with all smiles.
All smiles but the one being the donkey,
Carrying the chairs and bags lots more,
Still she didn't mind with a Christmas heart.
They all waited as friends arrived with theirs,
More and more people still all so nice polite,
Flashing cars are first then then many trucks.
All sizes and kinds some cars bands to come,
Oh, the cycles, too, and more unseen by most,
Before the start 'Merry Christmas' he said.
Where did the Angels and Angels come from?
Most among the spectators to keep them safe,
Many in the parade throwing God's love kisses.
He looked around and so few, less than handful,
Saw His other parade of the parade how sad,
'Merry Christmas!' lost in all the yells and screams.
'Throw me a stuff animal,' 'Throw me something,'
Echoed up and down to be heard over the noises,
No feelings of what it was all for, the baby cried.
And only a few heard, what could they do other
Than celebrate like the rest with a little more in
Their hearts, more in spirit to their shouts of cheer.
Cups, candy, and toys, fun for the girls and boys,
One day may the Angels they see in all that fun,
Trucks and the more kept rolling and Angels, too.
He hoped she could see the Angels as well, no,
To no avail, she left the Angels and Him years ago,
They were always by her side, even now, not seen.
Parades do end last truck bigger for old St. Nick,
And the man beside him, Him, king of kings and
Everything, creator of fun and smiles of little girls.
Most fun little girl seemed to have had for awhile,
Bags filled with excitement and joy and Angels of
Course for Angels are with all of God's children.
With last wave of Santa's hand, one parade ended for
The night, the other kept rolling for those that could
See, prayed did he she saw his love, 'Merry Christmas!'
His Christmas - Elbows Off the Table
Gleam off the blue steel reminded him of a calm lake
Ready for the fish to bite or the partying of friends,
Of which he had few, if any, and he knew not why?
He stared, imagined having friends, what it would be,
Oh, the joy and excitement he felt, and she would
Speak to him, make his heart jump as a biting fish.
Truth is hidden and string let out when playing a fish
Like she did, he bit her bait of smiles and touches of
Life, all the while she laughing, joking size of her fish.
He could barely pull the string she said to all others,
And the others chuckled with envy and jealousy of
Even smallest minnows looking at number of catches.
Meaning and more to them was outdoing the others
Of the fishing party and the blue ribbons going to the
Ones with the biggest fishes and mounting of heads.
Blinks of the eyes and that blue steel lake looked good,
Better than the torrid rivers of pains and sorrows swam
With a hook ripping his lips of mouth, heart and soul.
There is a question do fish feel pain, he knew they did
For he was a fish wishing he was something more of
A man throwing his line and bait in the blue steel lake.
He reeled her in and took out the hook and kissed her
Showing his love and faith in her and God, the Lord of
Fishermen, including women, the blue ribbon for sure.
Thoughts of fish heaven came to his mind, or would it
Be fish hell for ain't that what the fishing bible says in
Its pages for all mankind and holy fishermen who fish.
Or does the greatest fisherman know even more of
The nature of fish than the holiest of fishermen for He
Created the fish of all waters of Earth and caught more.
Today His birthday and the blue steel of the lake isn't
Meant for this day, he thought or did he think, alone
On this day to meet the fisherman of all fishermen.
He imagined his hand picking up his blue steel rod,
And casting the line into the lake for the last time he
Would see the calm waters without red of his blood.
As he thought now to move his arm forward, he heard
"Elbows off the table on this Christmas Day, My Day,"
A phone rung and he heard another voice, "Hi, Steve."
No fishing for her except for him, "Do you want to be
With us on this Christmas Day? We miss you, us both."
He looked again at the blue steel lake with a dread.
"Thank you!" he told her, "Yes, I will," he thanked the
Lord for her saving him and the Lord knew one day
He would thank her himself, her act of love and need.
What a fisherman she was, played and landed him
With pro skills except she was a minnow like him,
Yet she sensed he needed her, a shark she became.
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