Y2: Day 53 (Unfinished Business) Bithlar’s Inner Conflict

Bithlar sat in his room in the monastery of St. L. contemplating all the demise going on in his world.  Getting up from his chair, he paced the room.  Tapping his hand down upon his desk, he picked up his glasses, sat in his chair again and began recording all the events of the day in his diary.

Day 25-Dear Lord, I’m confiding to you in these pages once more about the atrocities man embarks upon at this very moment in time.  I can do nothing to resolve the conflict between the two brothers who fight for the throne.  If there is anything in my power I can derive from it be only to vindicate all rhapsodies of the heart.  I long to be the erasure of foul deeds brought forth by neighboring lands who continue to separate the powers which behold all ministries of the golden cusp.  I cannot make allowances for the virtue of this land to be untied by loose ends running amuck.

I fear great fires to come our way if the world continues to vacate the earth and surrender to the fallacies of time and space.  What shall hinder is the entrapment man has placed himself under for thousands of years.  However, if all appeals to the King go unnoticed by him then there is no recognizance.

Delsie Asteria comes to visit me during the day to bring me my meals.  She is one of the great sisters here at the monastery of St. L.  A kindly woman, she too fears the worst for the land is the brothers cannot resolve their conflict.  Born twins, he which was born first is the one chosen by the highest court to rule.  However, the brother born last holds the highest resentment and fury, because there are others who claim he was born first and is the rightful heir to the throne of Kalamista.

How can such misfortune to twat when all measure of their esteem creates aphonic melodies of the heart.  Where is the desert song to bring forth credence for man who is strung so high above the talons his soul feeds upon.

I mention many times in my writings how there is one who must come into her full powers so to bring forth eradication when the dime falls into the sea.

She who is eradicated must hold her will strong if she is to derive the solution to end this tide.  However, how can the tide be calmed when the fires continue to burn beneath her.  They rise higher and higher to no great end.  For the highest esteem is washed clear of my entanglement.  I must decide who shall rule the land of Kalimista if there is to be peace on this very planet.

Lord, give me the strength and the guidance to make such a decision.  I am only one with great responsibility to uphold the statues which the tithes of year glow throughout the universe.  If I cannot come to a decision as to which brother shall rule the land, then I must do something else which would appease all at risk of fallacy.

Delsie Asteria enters Bithlars room with a tray of biscuits and rose spread.  “Bithlar, you must take your meal.  You have been fasting for too long already.  It’s vital you keep up your strength if the land is to survive.  Without you around, the chaos in the land will surmount to worst tithes, my good man.”

Looking up at Delsie Asteria with his weary eyes, Bithlar picks up a hanky resting on his desk and wipes the sweat away from his face.  “My good woman, I can only do what I must.  You see, Delsie Asteria, the will of man has brought congestion through the variances of my decree.  No one yet knows which of the brothers was born first.  If there is no resolution made soon the land shall commence.  Should such a thing happen there is no compensation for resolve of a mire glistening in the stars.  There must be a way to discern who was born first.  If only I had the direct voice of the Lord to guide me on such a quest to endure all the strain I must.  Is there no end to the decree which holds me prisoner to my own ignorance.  How can an end be near to this struggle when there is no end near for resolve of conflict between the two brothers?”

Standing by the doorway holding the tray of food, Delsie Asteria proceeds over to Bithlar’s desk where she sets it down to the left of his diary and other important papers he has written the records of his stay.  “Come now.  A good meal shall do you good.  You must keep up your strength.  Man cannot live and feed on air alone.  To fast is one thing, but you have gone too long without food in your belly.  You have grown physically weak by the day, Bithlar.  Four weeks without food in your stomach is long enough.  A man such as yourself is much too important to take matters lightly.  I must see to your survival of will, mind, spirit, soul, and most importantly, of physicality.  For should you parish, my friend, what then?  What shall become of this great land of Kalimista?  Hum?  What might the end result bring if there is no one to change the world with a big decision to make such as you have, my dear?”

Collecting his diary and other papers into his hands, he moves them aside, pulls the tray of food closer to the front of him, and puts a thin layer of rose spread upon a biscuit.  He takes a small bit, nibbling on it, letting the flavors gather into his senses.  Looking upon the biscuit and the reddish hues of the rose spread, he thinks quietly to himself.  Roses are like the eternal sustenance of the sun which burns in the sky.  If only the Kingdom of Heaven can bequeath me the valiance needed to bring forth structure out of turbulence which hangs over my head.  For now, here is only the holiest of the holy to guide me on this journey of the quick.  The silver plate beholding my meal shall serve as the great vessel for which I thrive in the misses of the rendition which holds me up.

 © Copyright, Kiki Stamatiou, 2016

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