A Final
Testament of a Most Unlikely Messiah
The Birth
1. To
the taxi-driver I say: Stop. Then I open the
front door and hatch out into the always, and
despite a thousand prophecies, unsuspecting
world, leaving all my money in the drivers open palm, much to his surprise and joy.
2.
I venture onto the sidewalk of the plush neighborhood of my auspicious birth and I proceed
immediately to get in the way of the hapless young couple lazying along, hand in hand,
coming from nowhere, it seems, going nowhere,
for sure. That is, not until I step in their way, look calmly into their bewildered eyes
and say:
3.
Ask me not who I am and what it is that I want. Rather
ask who you are and what it is that you want.
For that is indeed the first step you should take in life. Your answer will
give you a much-needed sense of direction.
4.
And as the look of bewilderment in the young couples eyes turns slowly to amusement,
I pat each of them on the shoulder then I cut though them and leave them behind, knowing
that they will be following me, of course, as I hop on my way to the neighborhoods
luscious public park.
(The Nobel Friend acquires His first
official disciples)
5.
Follow me. I say. Lets open eyes together, long shut eyes, too long shut eyes.
Lets free together some new and sweltering visions into this long famished world.
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