01
This painting frequently draws me in; it’s rocky shores and scores of imagined shrubbery along the foreground, a magnificent abyss of blue separating ocean and sky. When I am given eternal life, this will be my heaven, and my light will be the Sun.
I can describe everything inside of my world with perfect accuracy. Four great walls, box-like but inviting, rectangular in shape and beige in shade, surround me. A polished mahogany bookshelf leans against the right wall, of which nearly a hundred books with a mosaic of colours are stored, bringing life to the shelf, and thus the room containing me. Daniel, one of my Gods, loves his books. It’s hard for me to be resentful given the beauty of their covers and wisdom they hold. My favourite is The Giving Tree; one of the only titles that hasn’t been spoken of or taken by Daniel. Why, I wonder. Decorating the back wall sits two big leather chairs. Like a stage, I make my light dance upon their cushions; shining purple tones reflecting back up at me. The Gods sit upon them and my light flirts with their movements. Matching the bookshelf, a mahogany frame holds an enormous painting of a fantasy-like world sustained by the left wall. Below me is an off-white soft ground; the carpet almost snow-like. In the centre of the room, directly below me, is a marble table with sharp corners. My light slips through its glass surface, exposing its maned table legs, each table end resembling a lion pawing a ball. Finally, a piece of the painting comes to life in my world, too, because a Kentia Palm sits in a big round, jet black pot in the corner by the bookshelf. The leaves of it’s arms massage the walls and rest upon them, reaching high for the sky above, which embeds thousands of pockets of shadows, created by tiny white specks all over, mimicking the ground below.
I live on the sky. Well, I hang from the sky, by my cord, from the smooth, spherical object attached to it. I light the world for the Gods, Daniel and Crys. I spend the most time with Daniel; we read together and I acquire knowledge. I once heard Daniel read a passage aloud from a book called The Holy Bible (he often reads passages aloud from this book, a distinct privilege for this title), in which he said that Jesus said (another God), “I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life.” But how can this be when I know that I am the light, explicitly and intrinsically. When will the Gods recognize my service and value to them? One day.
Like any light, I would suspect, I lit abruptly, cupped in the palm of Daniel’s hand. He spun me around twice, nestling me tight into my base. I remember waking for the first time; seeing Daniel’s focused expression reaching out and holding me; the fullness of my world and the plentiful colors contained inside. I had a full view of his narrow face and vividly remember his features. His unkempt stubbly beard, brown eyes, the small red bump in between his eyebrows and short curly brown hair. At the blessing of being alive, tears swelled my bulb, clouding my vision. Daniel and Crys have given me the gift of life, the most invaluable gift one could receive. Let my faithfulness to them be a sign of devotion, and let that faith lead me to heaven. “Love, joy, peace, longsuffering, gentleness, goodness, faith.”