Our Father who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name. I’m a string tied too tight on a harp close to breaking; the tired glow left after a flame; the last paint on the brush colouring the wall of my life and I look to you. Against you I’ve sinned and done what pains your eyes. Lord, turn your face away from my sins but don’t deny me your face or take away the Holy Spirit. Questions and lack of answers have plagued me in a lifetime lived in your honour. However, a lifelong devotion is outweighed by a single misstep. The path to salvation is through you and your son. A kind eye towards friends and foes are not the path; only the submission to your glory is. I know, so why do I worry? A dark waterfall needs only to turn bright before hitting the sunlit pond and it was long since I dwelled in darkness. The virtuous aren’t alone after death, yet surely a man full of virtue weighs heavier in your eyes? A family living in prosperity, beggars turned workers, homes built out of my own hands; in goodness and in your protection, are they not enough? Shelter, food and an idea of meaning were all stolen from them by the greed of a few, propagated to the betterment of all. I took them in and no dark clouds cluttered their sky, only you fill their heavens. Sirens wail and tyres screech. One misstep. Two paths in a forest. If both lead to the river how can either be wrong? There aren’t shades of darkness. I didn’t used to believe it but as I looked back on my painted wall of life the colour was black and only black. Shades of brightness, yes. But a sin is always a sin in your eyes. Your eyes have one dimension for shadows but several for light. They know that. They always understood. Even now as the pain is replaced by the embrace of your holiness they are forgiving. As are you. The front door breaches and the steps echo in the church hall above. Life is weak. No one dares to venture out of a familiar path. Discoveries are only made by those who dare. Forty years. A life’s work. My strength is now in parity with their weakness. Only because my flame turned to glow and my string soon snaps will my devotion burst and my altar finally brighten. Those who die shall live and those who follow shall never die. I AM RESURRECTION AND LIFE. Flashlights centre on an altar. “Step away from her!” I lift my eyes upon the white mountain! And the sun shan’t hurt during the day and not the moon by night. One. It will become. Just as one. “Do not drop it! Don’t drop!” “Judgement! Fall into submission. Bow before superiority. I shall give you peace. A final, lasting peace. As one. Accept what you cannot change. Have the sense. Have that sense! Acceptance. SUBMISSION!” “You have three seconds to surrender! Three…” “ADVENTIAT!” “TWO!” “REGNUM!” “One. NO! Don’t! Evacuate! Evacuate!” “TUUM!” Tobias Haglund
Header Image The photo of the altar was taken during the summer of 2013 in the cathedral in Aachen, Germany, the final resting place for Charlemagne /Charles the Great. He has been confirmed to lie in Karlschrein (Charles shrine), measuring 2.04 metres, very tall for the middle ages. Aachen was the capital city of the Franks and Charlemagne himself approved the building in 786. The cathedral is the oldest church in Northern Europe.