seven::twenty

The day to mark all others by would come on a day where routine was profoundly unnoticeable. The grass blows in a regular way. The people walk on the street and do their chores. Children play, priests and widows pray. Inconsequential day, yet by this day nearly all future days will be measured, and past years will be remembered anew. For on this day, mercy could and was shown, the greatest desired act, not sacrifice, that way that was never meant to be. Blood was never meant to be spilled, but to be a maintaining life force. But this intention was forgotten, however, now, mercy is to be the rhythm and when folly might call for faulting our hands are called instead to pass peace, to turn away the desire to condemn. It's fairly easy to imagine a world where everyone acted orderly, well, for me I can dream of such a world, but sadly this seems to only be able to be a dream. Mercy is a step, however, towards the world we would dream, envision. May that day be today or tomorrow, if that would be better.

(Exodus 11:10-12:14, Psalm 116, Matthew 12:1-8)