The Un-Emptied Throne

My great-grandfather died this past Monday at about 4 o'clock in the morning. In my thinking of the Kingdom, I can't seem to imagine the old man without all his quirks. He couldn't really talk about much with me. But he was a story and a poem in and of himself. Edwin Terrell Ivester. The man had beautiful white hair and big thick glasses. He used to be a farmer, and he used to be in the cavalry. Now he lies in wait for a new Dawn.

I finished reading The Man Who Was Thursday last night. And among this book and my great-grandfather's death at a ripe old age, I blinked again for a second and glimpsed a possibility of the world being more than what I see. A glimpse of everything being sort of upside down. It almost fully realizes that yearning we always feel. Everytime you turn off the TV and still can't sleep. That yearning that I felt tonight when I stopped for gas. People at a gas station at night don't talk to each other. We all just glance around and sort of notice the other folks there - as if we're embarassed about something. Or maybe it's a hurry to get home for fear of the night, like old Egyptian religions where one would not be caught out late for fear of the spirits wandering. Whatever it is, we're silent. And fearful. But what if that gentleman I crossed glances with sat down with me over a drink? What if we talked, like people do? I might see a bit of the upside-down-ness of our silent fear. I might see two thrones that await us both. Great chairs in the lighted shadow of a greater one. The arms on them almost hope for us - root for us. One throne now has only to be patient. It has only to wait with breathing relief at the side of a great Banquet Table.

But, I do appear to be rambling, and I must get to bed. If you must, you can be sorry for me. I loved what I knew of the man. But call me crazy, cause I'm glad for him. His fight is won.