A mecca declares to the world of its own righteousness. It declares to the world the truths only believed by those among the tall and proud. Darkness shrouds the world, how can a mecca distribute to the world a cloud? Can it hope to be the only source of light? Does it not strike the reader as odd? Why would a place, a place producing darkness, be a place of light? I cannot imagine such a place. Light cannot produce the darkness intended. Just as Life cannot produce death, it can only be interrupted by death. Just as generosity could not produce poverty, greed cannot produce generosity. There is only a hope that an intercessor can be introduced to produce life.
The silence as he left the podium was expected, he had after all defied all the previous speakers, he declared truth to be different than any had hoped. He told of great things that few had wondered at. Some were upset, noticeable by white knuckles on their padded armrests. The red faces contrasted well with the green curtains and inlaid gold seats. Those not upset carried a feeling of joy and freedom from the mans word, these were few, and dared not upset those next to them, the few were among the weakest in power. It became apparent that if this teaching was accepted they, the powerful, would lose the most. Anger soon overtook most. A moment of frustration gave birth to resigned action. Those with power knew how to use it.
Don’t you realize? All this is important only to those who deem it necessary to keep a firm grip on society. This is apparent in all forms, a man with the strength of knowledge, and the lack of a moral equality with his neighbor, will never give up the position of power that knowledge imparts. Do we not have an obligation now to provide to those powerless and equality? Do we not have a responsibility, if we claim morality, to impart to those weaker the strength of equality? There are so many now, who have more than is reasonable, who still demand a right of distinction, a right of power? Is it not an ugly deception? I demand that we all demand to recognize the origin of distinction, of power.
The street was full of those who cheered. It was also full of those who knew that a small price would be his life for their own power. There wasn’t a price on his head, the power of his enemy’s will does not extend that far, there was however a real acceptance into power, that man who would push the right of power to the limit. The man stepped down from his small footstool. Ten days have passed since he was de-robed by the priesthood. Ten days since he was sent from his quarters as head of social justice. The new man he knew would not make his mistake, which is why he is there. The men within the priesthood have always played the games of power well, never once denying a way to strengthen their own distinction. The power of knowledge filled this mans head as he pushed through the crowd, being cheered and hated. Too many accepted him, and not enough. There was a point when the numbers of his followers were enough to draw attention and not enough to change anything. He must rally all those who are able.
One man…one man. Can we do differently? Am I so different than he? I hope not. I pray not. He has been apart of one of the greatest organizations since the creation of the Imperial. He was a man who had more distinction and power than the majority of the Royalty. A man who denied it all in order to truly fulfill his purpose, he was after all the head of social injustice. Isn’t what he preaches now, not any more, not the correct conclusion of what he was originally there to do. I think we are upset because he has taken it home, he hasn’t only brought to our attention the struggles of all those across the world who are socially beaten and bruised, but to the very people we pretend are not beaten and bruised by us, me, all the Royalty. I will stand by him, even as you threaten to take all my distinction and power. That is not your place.
A young gentleman sat as those he had previously labeled as friends and family inhaled his words. They were angry, they had thought that this meeting was going to produce a way to upset the march against them, not spread his propaganda. There were few among them that would still label themselves as the young gentleman’s friend. They were the few who knew that the preacher spoke truth, and truth was a thing too beautiful to hide.
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