The Voice

I was in a room shrouded by darkness. I was in turmoil, in great panic. I was looking for the light—a symbol of liberty from the most depressing shadows of sinfulness. I sat down and gazed at the shapeless dusk around me. Then, I found light—an opening—myriads of them! I ran toward them one by one. And one by one, I got tired. I discovered little holes that would never fit me to get out. I lied down and tried to become one with the lifeless cloister. I was in slumber when I heard a voice. I heard my name. The voice was calling me. I cried and hoped. The rescue had come! I expressed my presence. I stood up and prepared myself for an astounding and grandeur gateway. I waited for no one. I got tired and disappointed. Throughout, the voice amplified and did not stop. I ignored it to avoid further frustrations. From a dark and shapeless room, I saw a dark and shapeless future.

And so time passed by, opportunity swept away. I became deaf to a call. I stagnated and fell to an endless abyss of darkness. I lost interest for the light. I conceived the idea that anything that links with the search for light is greatly tiresome and naturally disappointing.

I re-defined happiness and then re-shaped life. I self-bestowed the title “GOD”. I was my own messiah. I needed no god but myself.

My heart was petrified. My mind was parched. My sight was dimmed. I was in total dryness, stiffness, and darkness.

A word built up. It said, “come…” on a pleading tone. “Ha ha ha!” I threw back a scornful laughter. Where on another hell will I go? The voice was asking me to come, huh. Where? How? I received a message of absurdity.

Where did the voice come from? I waited for the voice to call again until it did. I wondered why it sounded so near and so clear. Had it been right beside me throughout the period of darkness?

I created monsters and nursed them to someday become my dreadful nightmare.

Where is he? All that I hear is a voice stratified it would take me too hard to find and understand.

From the voice I sensed immense love. I did not respond. But the insistent voice kept calling me. It sounded like a broken record. It was now annoying. “When will this voice stop and finally admit that I have already learned to be happy in the dark?” The voice, the very same voice called on again more gently but on a higher pitch and a fuller bass. And this time more surround.

I embraced myself to ease the pain brought about by nurtured angst. I received warmth but not love.

Thru the years I did not take responsibility on my own shortcomings. I created scapegoats to redeem myself from my own lapses. I was a coward. I feared the darkness that I myself created. I hated many whom I charged of faults. I doubted for hope & love.

I was not deaf at all. I was indifferent.

I allowed darkness to cover me until my conception of reality was cast away. Imagination had pervaded my disposition thereby creating fantasies, monsters and worst of all false hopes.



For the idea, thank you Fr. Randy.