About yesterday...

Now what happened yesterday, is all but gone, my mind return to the topic at hand, many times I have stated, sometimes nice, some times not we forget more than we think.

 

Truly has “God” become persona non grata?

There once was a little boy I shall call him Santo, Santo was the son of a daughter of the street, a hustler, a prostitute. Santo was a child who was always dirty as he wondered about the city, people noted about him how his shaggy hair, dirty face and a small smile upon his lips, made them laugh as he chased dogs, or played among the stables.

 

One day Santo noticed a few people he knew were all walking down the street in his playful whimsical way he followed the ever growing crowd down the street to the small church. Santo listened through the window to the music, the sounds, the lessons.

 

When the service was over so as not to be seen Santo run down and behind the church to the alley and a cross the way, there at the edge of town was a temple, where to his amazement he saw all placed in net order, plates of apples, of bread, and the smell of Mir.

 

Upon walking back towards the market and stables Santo herd a commotion of some angered voices, he followed the sounds to the gate of the stable, where two men he knew were waving hand and yelling at each other. One was saying My Daughter can not marry the son of a man like yourself, you who goes and quietly prays, The other my Son my marry has he chooses my he always find love.

 

Standing there each behind a father was the Monk all dress in white and yellow and the Priest dressed in back. To each were they trying to quite the men, saying slow your mind and lower your voice. The men seemed as if they did not hear nor did they care.

 

Santo smiles and runs back to the church where he jumped through a window and takes a golden plate and three coins, then runs down to the temple and there takes, two apples, a piece of bread, and the smoking pot of Mir.

 

Upon his turn to the gate of the stables Santo boldly walks between the men and lays at their feet the items he had. The prizes upon the plate. He steps a back a step and looks at each of the men with a smile on his face, He states “Did you forget the songs you sang or the quietness as you prayed.”

 

The Monk and the Priest in a fit of rage, beat and hung Santo for what he had to say. He is a thief, they yelled, a beggar of the street!

 

 

Lessons seem to be missed;

 

Women first least you forget your nurturing.

More can be said from the least among you.

Your tithing and prayers are worthless and without reason if you forget why you gave.

Judgments are based upon the way you see.

Damnation kills.

 

Chas

Peace and love what a concept!

 

I return you now to the wondering flowing topic did someone kill Religion….

 

Nightly news….

 

Police have arrested a thief…..

 

The President is on vacations in the tropics, where the sun is fun and the surf thunders….

 

Tap tap upon the glass of that monitor have you been reading?

 

Chas climes of the soapbox and exits stage left……..