It was a Tuesday morning when the Color Company first produced a new color. They filed for the patent, licensed it everywhere, and soon the whole planet was in a craze for the color reza. The artists were alive with the allure of fresh hue, and enraged by the patent. When the Color Company started harvesting the red from roses and lacing it with the elegance of time, they birthed rousing shades of mercurial menaca. When God arrived at the home office with a cease and desist engraved in the blood of His enemies on a stone of gold and cold, the CEO offered to sing the song of his people. But he was a WASP and his song was One Headlight, which Jesus had played for God the night before, and He was not impressed.
Month: October 2026
All of Creation Yearns to Create
Sculpting waves make a flowy David. (After the water rushed back into the Red Sea behind the Israelites, maybe the luckiest of Pharaoh’s men died instantly from pressure instead of horribly by drowning) Every sentient creation has an urge to build something more important than themselves, which given Man’s smallness, should be easy, but surprisingly is not. The trees looming over the home of yesteryear crochet the sky with branches and leaves.
My Crucifixion
Skipping stones periodically crush civilizations as they crash out over Time’s immortal plane. The One Who Threw Them loves the ripples of blood and concepts that echo through space time. Ideas are amorphous and irregular and soft until you reach the spike at the bottom called Lived Experience. My thoughts crumble in the awesome light of destruction. I love ideas until they pierce me for my cross. Then, on the iron and wood, I wither.
