To All My Friends

This is a benediction, awash in the rebirth of the lamb. The blood is hot and pure, the cells as skyrockets striking sparks off the moon.

The legs of this lamb, they are weak but growing. The eyes of this lamb, they are closed but will soon see all. This lamb, he has senses like no creature before, senses that call to mind divine prayer.

This day is the first, and the lamb is born.

His soft fur and growing muscle will carry him through cold and fire, to the coasts and to the hills, to the sky in a blazy of glory and to the endless depths of surprised expectation.

This lamb, he could some day become eucharist, but for now he is just a flesh and blood being, in need of food, in need of light, in need of love and hope.

In need of home.

This lamb, here at home, stands shakily upon his launching pad. He was once Icarus in the Challenger; now he is the hot space between fires. Just look into his eyes: that is the gaze of a wise creature with a second chance and oh yes, this little lamb knows it.

He drinks his milk, he chews a bit of food. His body, this time, will not outpace his mind.

This time, the lamb will not know his own slaughter -- this time, he has been delivered as a benediction to all who cast eyes upon him, all who kiss his soft face.

This lamb, he is the rebirth of all.

This sentence, these words, are his first nine steps.

He wishes to be touched.

He is walking toward you.

permalink