The old man in a white beard

On the hill is  God’s man,  with a white beard and  hoary locks of history. He is chipping away at firewood , without taking his eyes away from the wood even for a second. His wood-ax catches the stick in mid-air.His white beard becomes  part of sunlight, a flash of morning light through the tree branches. He must be from a distant sun-land , on a brief visit to the hills for cutting wood.

His wood is now sticks ready for their fire. He enters God’s house to light a flame for Him. And for us so we can see the flame in God’s eyes.And drink a palmful of God’s water with a sacred sounding slurp.

There is another God in the dark cave. He flickers as a lamp at the end of the cave. Between Him and us was an abiding darkness, unfathomable love to our  eyes.Our eyes try to swim in the darkness but without a gliding torch we drown in it. 

A helpful teenager brings a torch. The old man in hoary locks must have broken his silence.


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