back / next / Sarcon’s Son 16
The tiny lightning bugge blazes like a signal fire. She sings:
Penetrate, perforate,
Punctuate, poke.
Make a hole
In the sole of that bloke.
Lord Jesus rises from His throne. He’s a bit stiff. All that sitting in grandeur stresses Holy Joints. He steps to the front of His cubical, extends one bare foot, prepares to disembark.
A buzzing bug zips on buggy wings beneath that foot as it hovers midair. Jesu pauses, thinks to squish the thing, but how gross when not wearing sandals.
In the shadow of that foot Sarconsson grips the arrow shaft and thrusts upward.
An iron tip cuts through tender sole. It stabs flesh, impales muscle, shreds the fine web of Holy Capillaries carrying Sacred Blood.
Into that breach spills Love’s Nectar of Disruption. Poison. Elixir. Remedy. Raw vitality burning like the belly of a star.
Lord Jesus howls.
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He screams like the rabbit screams when the hawk strikes.
“SAVE YOUR SOLE!” Sarconsson bellows, his cry a whisper in the enormity of Heaven.
“Oh, My pins and needles, quit Your screeching,” scolds Our Virgin Mother, but Her Son does not hear.
Lord Jesus knows Divine Pain. Agony. Sacrifice. He’s been here before … the hot nail rammed through skin and bone.
“No, no, no. No, no. Not now,” He keens.
Love’s venom rides Jesu’s blood, excoriates inner passageways and floods junctures. Tissues are drenched in fire. The Body is a dry sponge sucking up liquid flame that scorches even as it saturates the fabric of His Self. The red tide rolls upward and outward. Its volume expands. There is so much more than He can hold. Engorged flesh bulges. He shudders with the pressure. His mouth gapes as if to vomit it out but nothing emerges. Nothing can vent it.
The Lord of Lords, King of Kings throws back His head and wails: “WHO DOES THIS?”
Laughter answers. The smooth, mellow laughter of Love. There. But not there.
Remember, Dear Reader, the paradoxical nature of Primals, born before the Universe banged into being. They emerged before space-time required containment and are not embodied. They can tolerate infinity. Find it refreshing.