Thursday, January 5, 2017

By Eugenio Rodríguez

Amid broken wings, overturned sandals, trampled halos, the great Lord of all times turned around for a last look: the desolation of a soulless town, flown over by dry foliage from the vines, a wheezing silence in the background.

So much kingdom of another world, so much resting in peace for all eternal guests, so many wonders not envisaged even by the most imaginative science fiction authors, and the dignified distinction, elitist if you will, of access limited to His most virtuous followers.
But now this overwhelming invasion against all souls, these highways with satellite debris, this technology colonizing what they call “space,” lens that do not allow resting in peace, that do not allow being free from all desires, liberated from every need.
“How dare thou come thus far ...” –-He rebuked against space, the echo gone in His voice. “Verily I say unto thee, you will traverse this heaven, but my words you shalt not . . . those you shalt never leave behind.”

Then He launched into space, flying with arms extended as on a cross. He plunged into dark matter, a dot, no more, and disappeared.

Now people say He dwells much far yonder, beyond the billions of galaxies in our new horizon, beyond sight even by the mightiest telescopes, there beyond any end or beginning, unreachable even at the speed of light. Now there, some say, He has moved out of reach --disgusted with his creation. 

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