They called him a messiah.

Stranger, you think you see what others don't,
And your words are pretty like fire
Under a full moon.

He tells me he wasn't always so serious. When he was small, he loved his toy trucks and cap pistol as much as other boys. He practically lived for every opportunity to go to the ice cream parlor and made lots of excuses not to go to school, because he just wanted to play. He made farting noises in church and giggled secretly even after his parents scolded him. After all, he was a little boy, and this is what little boys do. As an adolescent, he pined over pretty girls, did donuts in cornfields after getting his driver's license, and snuck off with his buddies to get high. His grades were average, his goals were average, his life was average. He secretly hated it. After graduation, he took off on a trek to explore the country. No one minded. No one noticed when he didn't come back.

They still don't know what changed him.


He watched. I watched his journey as he delved into the recesses of his mind and discovered all the things he already knew. He became amazed at the wonders before him, so new and he sought to share these things with the world, because he was convinced they were blind.

Sharp senses dulled against their souls
Still they are watching, learning
We cannot speak of the paths of others -
Each must walk alone.

He learned. No one is what they appear to be. Inside the soul is a lifetime of love, hate, joy, and sorrow. We spend our consciousness thinking we know it all from snapshots we see of each other. He began to realize that those things we hide, those memories we hold, these weave the soul of God.

We think we know what's best for everyone else because we think we know what's best for ourselves. We think it's up to us to guide the rest to salvation. But we only know those parts that we are already.

Yet while we flounder, stuck in our own mire,
We all swim home eventually.

He taught. He wanted to heal them all, make them see. But some have to be foolish several, a dozen, a million times, testing every possibility, before they are ready. It is the way of things. The best we can do for others is to let them go, and find their own way home.

There's nowhere else to go.

They listened, and then they crucified him.


But your words were pretty like fire
Under a full moon.


Special thanks to Demeter for all advice I may or may not have been bright enough to follow, and to lovejoyman for helping me find the words and putting up with my whining.

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