So this life is pretty wild. Sure, there’s boring days; the ones we’re not doing battle with our dragons. When we’re sitting at our desk jobs or lazing on a couch in an overly humid room.
But if we open our eyes from time to time, maybe we’ll see the colors and heroes and stories sneaking through the milieu of now. It’s all around, really. In morning sunlight and silver moonbeams. In the wild joy of a little one running through a sprinkler. In the great deep burrowed by two people in love with each other. This world has gone mad with life.
And I think it’s something to hold on to, a touchstone when our days seem to be slipping into gray. Remember the epic we live in. Holdfast to the quest you belong to. Despair and commonality bear their teeth, hoping you’ll back into your corner of mediocrity.
But we aren’t corner-dwellers; we are creatures of sweeping fields and incessant oceans. Sprinters and sailors.
We glimpse the haunting edges of the galaxy… and we must go. We must know. Astronauts, they say, are but a few. But aren’t we all? Curiosity, to unearth glory wherever it may be hidden, whether there in the burning lights of the night sky or here in each other eyes, pumps through our veins.
So who are you, with those translucent portals? What is buried beneath that slight smile and nervous laugh? You eternal being, there is an unseen cosmos within those two tear-laden globes. Would you tell me your legends? I want to know what’s hurt you. I want to know what cultivated life within you. I want to know the soundless rivers and the worn paths you wander every day. Can you let fall a few words to illumine the topography of your infinity?
I ask because He seems to care.
He seems to care quite a bit, really.
The One who first lit the radiance in your eyes, who exhaled breath for sprinting and wind for sailing. The Author who first spun tales of heroes and the Artist who floodlit our retinas with impossible color. The Inquisitor who first asked Who are you? yet mouthed the answer so we might know.
I ask because you remind me a little of Him. You share the celestial in your eyes.
And maybe if we share the wild secrets He’s whispered into our soul, maybe then we can laugh together.
I’d like that.
We could stay on this couch, claustrophobic as the walls of mortality close in.
Or we could fight each others dragons. We could live wild and share in this sacred eternity…
There are no ordinary people. You have never talked to a mere mortal. Nations, cultures, arts, civilizations – these are mortal, and their life is to ours as the life of a gnat. But it is immortals whom we joke with, work with, marry, snub and exploit – immortal horrors or everlasting splendors. – C.S. Lewis