There is some amazing life that you have given me. It manifests itself as tears on the brim of my cheeks. They are wrought from the vibrance that throbs in my heart rooted so deeply and sweetly in the age of my boyhood. I used to think that it was all dead and the trecks into my boyhood forests were simply visits to the memorial of some old life - deceased. I know now that that is not so.
I lived for a time thinking that life is some greatness you achieve, but no, it is every moment that you hold in your hand. Every second you are handed more - only small specks of sand. Unwise men expect to be handed a castle, but those who suffer each moment drench each grain with the tears of charishment. It are these whose sweat, toil, and love create something of which they are quite unaware, save the sweet joy that resides within seeming to have no origin; they create the very stones that make a castle.
Each one is cut and square, hard, and held together by the very bonds of heaven and heavenly love. Unaware they stack the blocks, eyes blinded by yet more tears and narrow from smiles that abound from within. Though sometimes those smiles are racked by sobs, for those who live the most are stricken often by the injusticed of life. Yet the smile remains all along keeping an eye of hope on the true life that awaits.
It are these men and women who build their castles, and that, grain by grain, tear by tear. Looking always up, always forward they do not see the grand edifice below them, wrought by their own hands. Oh, how it has cost them greatly! They would never know for they never count the cost of a thing; all is paid for from the treasury of their heart. It is an open treasury and they freely give to all who are near, and forgive those who would take from them. Priceless! Priceless are the hearts of these, and the journey in which they take joy in every step. Can't you see it on their faces? The wonder, the wildness, the beauty, the mystery. It shines from them so brightly that failures cannot bear to look at them, and the blind are drawn to them. To look at one you would think they were immortal because of the life that condenses about them. But mortality is the fate of every man, even for those who seem to breath more. The sun sets in every age.
At dusk the living look to their Maker; His smile is unmatched when He sees them. Quickly He gathers them and takes them to His Father. Silently They speak more wonderful things than a mortal heart can bear. Perhaps the living are confused with their Makers' pleasure. Knowingly the Deity turn them to the windows of heaven. Outside there are beautiful castles made of gorgeous cut stone. Bewildered the living look at the buildings then to their Lord. They are mesmerized. The houses are so familiar like returning home when travels have carried one far.
The Masters' faces beam of pride such as the heavenly hosts have never seen, save once. The Father speaks to the living. His voice is so familiar: the very joy they felt on Old Earth, the comfort, the strange stirring within them they felt from time to time. Now it is personified for them as He speaks something too wonderful for them to endure. "Well done my good and faithful servant!"
A tear of love streams from his eye and splashes to the ground. Immediately a spring of living water begins to spout from the dirt, green shoots sprout and grow. Before long the living are surrounded by a garden, the very Garden of Eden. Around them flowers of every species, of most divine glory and radiance, look to the Light of the Temple from whom the sun and moon have fled. Trees of every kind bearing fruit lean over the banks of the spring, which has become a mighty river.
Onward they look, and there, majestic and handsome, stands the Tree of Life, its branches stretching across the river. "Eat freely for it is for the healing of the nations."
And so the living are invited into the Kingdom of God, realizing then that it was never far, closer even than breath. It was within them just as their Sweet Jesus had told them all along. You cannot see it, it is handed to you grain by grain. Those who are crucified with Christ soak each one with their blood and tears unknowing that they are helping to build the very houses in which they will dwell when mortality has faded and the life that Christ created in the beginning of time is freely given to all who are invited into his gates, whose name have been written in the Precious Book, the one whom Jesus holds close to his heart.
