“Once upon a time,
the whole world was dark and black
drowned in the noise of black bullets.
Bullets of anger, jealousy, blame and hatred
shot by rifles of fear,
bouncing off layers of hard shells of imagined egos,
that had grown over souls who had forgotten
who they really were.
With every bounce, they got speedier,
clanking harder and louder.
The shells hardened and bruised,
bouncing off more forcefully.
But the war went on for a long long time,
Intensifying continually, and
drowning the world deeper and deeper
in the darkness and the noise of the black bullets.
Bored and tired of the war,
one day a shell decided to shed itself.
It somehow, by grace, realized that all it had to do
was to look down and see itself.
In that moment, the shell gave way
and a white light emerged from inside it.
Suddenly, there was nothing to bounce off!
Black bullets went right through slowing down and bathing in the soft white light,
transforming into soft white light rays illuminating other shells.
''What a miracle!' a few other lights-who-wanted-to-know-they-were-light watched shouting in joy.
'Can I do it too? I'm tired of bouncing!' they said in chorus.
For sometime after that, all the lights-who-were-too-scared-of-being-naked
turned to the wanna-bes.
“What do you mean, you want to stop bouncing!
That’s what we’ve been created to do!
Stop being crazy, and go do your job.
Bounce till your drop tired, till you drop dead.
I know it is hard, but It’ll all be fine in the end.
Don’t waste time. Just go bounce.”
Most lights-who-were-not-the-adventurous-kind caved in,
backed off and went back to do their job.
They continued to bounce, all confused and conflicted.
A handful loved being called crazy.
They kept looking down, joyfully bathing in their own light.
'Is this really so simple?' One by one they came forward and stripped their shells revealing their absolutely delightful bright white lights.
As the colourful lights danced in joy, seamlessly all merging into one bright white light,
To the resounding music of silence that held the various pitches, tones, tunes, rhymes and rhythms.
Bullets became fewer,
the clanking fainter.
It grew brighter.
Until one day,
when it came to be all light and silence,
holding within them all the colours, the music and the rhythm.”
God recollected it all to himself!