The Virgin and the Vision

Once upon a time, a lonely poet conceived of himself and gave birth to his only Vision.
And the Vision became flesh in the form of a small Child.
And the poet wrapped Him in swaddling cloths and cared for Him with his greatest affections.

The poet was exceedingly joyous over this new Birth.
He took his only Son to the midst of the village and called out to the people,
that they may come and share in his joy.

Some were blind and could not lay eyes upon the Child.
Some were deaf and could not hear the poet's cry, even from the rooftops.
But those who came laughed at him for having given birth to such a frail Son.
For they began to weigh and measure this Child in regards to their own children
who were conceived of man and woman.

In the midst of the people's laughter, the poet's joy turned into sorrow.
He returned quietly to his abode and nurtured his Son patiently and tenderly,
even with the people's laughter echoing in his ears and with tears streaming down his face.

After many years had passed, a Prince of unearthly beauty appeared in this village.
And all the mothers came and brought their daughters,
to offer their hands in marriage to this strange Prince.
They brought with them fine jewels and precious metals to gain favor in His sight.
And they wore the most captivating fragrances to charm His manhood.

But the Prince was unfamiliar with such things.
He walked through them as if passing through the mist.
For they were strangers unto Him.
And in innocence, He passed through this village to seek a Greater Village.

Today, some claim that this Prince was the Son of that solitary poet.
Others insist that the two were but the same Man.

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Truth is never aggressive or violent. But should it ever be perceived as such, it is the violence with which we react upon perceiving the truth. It is the shattering of the shell of deception that encloses the perceiver.

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