My demeanor was left untouched;
Only the hags would have known me.
I held the goblet in my hand
And took one step toward the child.
The hands of the banshees grabbed my arms.
The kings brandished their swords;
The shepherds pointed their staves.
I stood in silence, unsure as to what was occurring.
I was not welcome there;
My gift was deemed unworthy.
I looked to the swords pointing at me.
Their gestures angered me, and I envisioned myself
Using their very own weapons against them.
However, being held by two banshees
Altered my thoughts.
The kings were not kings;
The shepherds were not shepherds.
All servants of God ordered to protect the child.
Their souls told their stories;
Their eyes portrayed their tasks.
The only one untouched
Was the mother caressing the child.
A true love from a true soul.
Admirable to my mind.
The swords of the kings remained steady.
The staves of the shepherds were held by strong hands.
I was not positioned well to fall victim to my pride.
The child became unsettled by the length of my stay.
The kings gestured to the hags who tried to pull me along,
But I held my ground and did not move.
I looked to the kings, then to the mother.
Her eyes were kind.
She was a blessing to behold as she did not know me,
Therefore she could not judge.
In her mind, I was allowed to worship like the others.
In her thoughts, I was welcomed.
She thanked me for when no one else would.
As I bowed my head with respect, I backed away
Causing my two guides to release their grips.
The kings and shepherds hid their weapons
As the next worshipper in line approached.
The hags followed closely behind me until I was far away.
From the mountains of sand, I could see the manger
And the waves of people awaiting to worship the child.
The son of God was indeed born, but for what purpose?
I stared at my goblet seeking answers.
The unwanted trinket was left in the sand
Along with my unanswered prayers.
I walked back to the line of worshippers,
But not close enough to be noticed.
I befriended another group of nomads from the far east
On a quest to allow their eyes to gaze upon the baby.
How important was the birth to mankind?
While I walked with them,
A thin man in the caravan caught my eye.
I brushed up against him, our shoulders meeting.
My voice infected his ears, controlling his thoughts.
I slid a dagger underneath his cloak
Accompanied with my demands.
He no longer traveled for worship;
He no longer ventured for salvation.
His path no longer led him toward God.
I bid my farewells to the group and waited hilltop.
Group after group came and worshipped.
The man soon found himself in front of the child.
The kings stared at the peasant before them.
His pressured emotions made themselves known.
His indications set the child’s protectors on alert.
The grips of the kings met with their sword handles.
The shepherds clinched their staves.
I could tell he was afraid to complete the task.
I whispered into the air;
As courage finally revealed itself within his eyes
As his hand revealed the dagger,
The guards converged upon him with great fury.
He was dragged away from the manger.
***
As time went by, the word of the birth spread
Across the land much quicker than I had imagined.
His tale became twisted much like my own.
We shared a common thread;
We were both faithful to the same God.
Through the sermons, our names became distant.
Through the religions, a separation had occurred.
I had my followers; the Son had his.
As I tortured the weak, he held onto the strong.
Those who were victims of my sins,
Lessened in size within my realm
Prompting me to travel in search of more answers.
I came upon a group of traveling gypsies.
Their wagons could barely support the cargo.
Their souls told the tales of sin.
Each a sufferer from my temptations,
But still they traveled in search of the Lamb.
Surely they could not be helped or saved by the Son
As they each belonged to me.
Curious to learn what they hoped to achieve,
I asked about their intentions.
They spoke of repenting for their sins;
A cleansing of their souls
That would allow them to enter God’s kingdom.
I became offended by their words,
But still allowed them to speak.
They believed the Son could purify their souls
If only they repented in front of him.
A practice of remorse for actions; the opposite of pride.
I was not angry at the nomads, but I desired their deaths.
The wheels of their wagons
Would not reach the holy city that day . . . or ever.
The sins of the damned would not be cleansed.
Their souls would remain within my grasp.
I walked along the same road leading to the city
And reaped any wandering traveler
From whom the word ‘repent’ escaped their lips.
The practice troubled me, making me unstable.
It haunted my dreams and entangled my thoughts.
Why would the Son cleanse the sins created
By his own father and unleashed by a servant?
My task, my burden, was being denied
And granted approval by God himself.
I desired answers, so I continued to the city,
Punishing those who traveled the same path
To appease my own steady confusion.
The Son had become quite the minister
With disciples and worshippers of his speech.
I observed him from a distance
As he was well protected within the city.
They portrayed themselves as prophets,
But they were no prophets.
Their eyes did not worship the stars.
Their eyes observed anyone who came near.
They were the inner circle of the minister.
To my eyes, their souls told a different tale.
One of justification and sanctuary
To ensure that the Son was guarded.
I sat upon a roof with my hooded cloak concealing my face.
My roaming eyes and eager ears were all I needed.
He was always well sheltered within his disciples,
So much so that no peasant could near him.
They walked with a great sense of power.
I would often test the limits
By consuming the minds of weakened peasants.
My words led them directly into the gatherings.
The Son’s following allowed no one near.
Their strength was admirable and their resolve
Was swift and hidden from the eyes of others.
Their cloaks concealed their motions.
They encircled the Son at all times.
They walked when he walked, they fed when he fed.
&nbs
p; They were an extension of him
Much like my demons were of me.
When the Son spoke, his disciples would kneel
Forming a tight circle of protection.
The outreached hands of the peasants
Were always graciously pushed aside,
But on occasion, one was allowed to near
And enter within the circle.
The Son’s power of healing drew gasps from the crowd.
The eyes of the disciples
Roamed the crowd in search of disturbances.
It was clear the Son was a part of a plan.
I was eager to understand how the two plans connected.
The next sun brought a gathering of peasants,
Where the Son and his disciples
Addressed the crowd of the worshippers.
I edged closer to the outer banks to hear his words.
The disciples all stood,
Their eyes penetrating my skull with their stares.
I remained still, with hopes to not draw attention,
But one of the disciples broke the circle.
Through the crowd he walked,
As I lowered my head, drifting back into the shadows.
Within the cascaded dark of wooden cargo crates,
I waited as the disciple stood at the threshold of light.
I required more knowledge regarding his master,
And I was not prepared to battle a servant of God.
That was not my intention.
My voice shifted with the wind,
Corrupting the mind of a random worshipper
Who began a loud outburst toward the Son.
The disturbance summoned the disciple back.
As the moon rose against the darkened sky,
The Lamb preached on the outskirts of the city
Far from the judging eyes of the local officials.
Surrounded by his followers, the Son preached
About repenting against the sins of the world.
I needed to understand his theory.
I could not do so within my current state,
My stench of death was too overbearing.
I grabbed the nearest peasant.
He became an extension of my soul
With his movements all my own.
His confused mind was filled with sinful memories.
His weakened body disgusted me,
But he would serve me well.
A line formed to allow for the repenting process to begin.
As I awaited my turn—inside the body of the peasant—
I noticed soldiers and city officials standing back.
My ears were filled with envy toward the Son regarding
His hierarchy and demeanor amongst the society.
There was a concern regarding his stature.
There was a threat of an uprising against the law.
It seemed I was not the only one with curiousity.
My tongue held back his voice,
My arms held back any movement,
As the disciples looked to him with heavy, judging eyes.
Allowed to near, he stood before the Son,
The closest I had ever been,
Even if it was not within my own body.
His soul was the purest I had seen.
His face provided serenity with eyes of kindness.
There was no question that he was the Son of God,
But I was not there to admire him;
I was there to gain an understanding.
The peasant kneeled down before him.
His white cloak resting upon the ground.
His hand laid upon the bowed head.
No words were said,
But I felt his eyes within the mind, searching for sins.
The soul of the peasant was caressed gently.
His soul was held by me,
But drifting toward the visions portrayed by the Son.
My hold was slipping; my grasp loosened.
Forced to exit the body, my eyes became that of my own.
My ears heard only the sounds around me.
I was no longer in control of the peasant’s soul.
My temptations and embedded sins no longer existed
As he was cleansed of everything deemed unworthy.
I had seen the act of repenting
And the gift of forgiveness first hand.
A renewed soul stricken from my path,
Allowed to travel upon the holy way.
Every sinner, every soul that belonged to me
Could be released from my chosen fate
And granted a new beginning in the form of faith.
That was not welcomed within my thoughts.
To steal all that I had acquired, all I had been through;
My agony, my despair, my burden.
I looked upon the Lamb with resentment.
His task was to undo all that I had accomplished.
A new religion established to allow the humans
A prosperous crossroad leading away from my realm.
Why inflict sin, if it was to be removed?
Why conjure evil, if good was to overcome?
***
On a warm day, I saw something I had not seen before;
I saw the Son wandering alone away from the city.
Curiosity plagued my mind as I followed him.
Deep into the desert he traveled, carrying nothing.
As the sun vanished and the brightest of stars appeared,
He sat within the sand and stared at the sky.
I observed from a distance,
The moon bathing him in an ominous way.
Days passed and yet he remained in the desert
Without food or water.
He spoke no words and no one came to look for him;
Completely alone with his thoughts,
I decided to test his boundaries of faith.
My whispers funneled through his ears as he slept,
Then caressed his thoughts during the day.
I spoke of the seven sins,
But his mind battled every temptation that was offered.
His spirit was well intact, and he countered
Every sin with its virtue.
When tempted with wrath, he gave patience.
When tempted with gluttony, he spoke of temperance.
With greed, he offered charity.
With sloth, he responded with diligence.
Envy, he provided kindness
And with pride, he acted with humility.
My frustration grew with every failed attempt.
My anger raged.
For forty days and forty nights,
He remained in the desert.
For forty days and forty nights,
I was unable to break him.
Even as he became famished,
His mind remained wholesome.
He was everything I hated; a pure soul.
On the last night, his disciples came
And carried him back to the city.
With the stars as my witness
And the moon as my judgment,
I vowed to disturb the undisturbed.
I vowed to disrupt the untouchable.
I started with the envious city officials,
As a mortal was much more easier to corrupt.
My whispers carried the visions of a revolution
If the Son was allowed to continue his sermons.
His ministry needed to halt for the sanctity of the city.
My seeds were embedded well in the minds of the officials.
They pondered the Son during the days
And watched him from the shadows at night.
His arrest was approaching and necessary,
But his congregation was always by his side.
Civil unrest would be chaotic if the Son
Was taken from them in front of their eyes.
His followers would sacrifice all justification.
>
A separation from his congregation was needed.
I surveyed them from afar for quite some time;
Their mannerisms, their postures, their gestures toward
The audience and toward one another.
I needed that small hesitation;
A small unlatched door to allow my entry.
They were perfect in all aspects which was frustrating,
But one day within the marketplace,
I saw an opening; a weakness in one of the disciples.
On many occasions, the circle would purchase food
Without ever caring about the amount of coin given,
But a certain disciple would always count
To be sure that no excess was wasted.
A doubt in the righteousness of man.
A greed in the fulfillment of coin.
A smile upon my face.
His greed; his envy would be my tools.
His mind would serve as my lumber.
The eyes of the disciple began to roam.
The ears of the disciple listened more intently.
The dreams of the disciple became unbalanced.
His body continued to protect the Son,
But his mind ventured from the task.
His physical actions resented his thoughts.
An internal struggle against my will ensued.
The body would not be victorious.
He became so entangled within my words
That his greed of coin grew
To thievery amongst the vendors,
All hidden well from the eyes of his master.
I gathered a grouping of officials
To work alongside the disciple.
The officials needed the Son to be alone,
The disciple needed to appease his greed.
I needed for both to obtain what they desired.
There were no stars within the sky;
There was no moon to provide light.
I sat rooftop and watched as he met with the city officials
Within a corridor hidden in the shadows of the city.
Over the next few days,
He had influenced the other disciples
With envy of the righteousness of their master.
The Son had all to gain; the following had nothing.
The disciple infected their ears that he would
Better serve as ruler of the religious kingdom
And those who followed
Would receive riches beyond their dreams.
His words clashed with their faith,
But curiosity began to overwhelm their minds.
Their eyes saw what he had envisioned.
Their ears heard what he had portrayed.
Each began to view their master with resentment.
A slippery path of distrust and disobedience,
All buried behind their task of protection.
He offered the Son a prayer of solitude
With no congregation; no distractions.
The Harvester Page 10
