CHRONICLES OF A NEW MEDIA
We never saw it coming. We knew that one day it would, but in the joy of the moment, we tried hard to erase all memory of past days or of what was to come. Our past: as clean and as pure as our future.
The sky: a luminous topaz was as bright as it had ever been. There were none of the high, cirrus clouds that would signify a coming change.
The choir: together, practicing, straining to learn chords and phrases, rehearsing for “the day,” had not a clue.
Oboists and clarinet players licked reeds and placed them in just the right position upon the ligature for the clearest tones possible. Bows were rosined and readied for the friction of the tight strings. Horns were warmed and tuned to the perfect pitch.
Robes: pressed, and folded without trace of crease, lay row after row in military precision.
Though the inhabitants anticipate, no one dares imagine that this moment may be “the moment.”
Horses: freshly shod, blanketed in gold and purple, stomp loudly in their stalls. They blow and snort. They feel it deep, within their marrow. Today is a different day.
Children run, jump, and laugh. They continue the unhurried games of childhood.
Abruptly. Unexpectedly. He stands.
No longer is His demeanor kind and gentle. No longer the soft spoken Lamb to which we’ve grown accustomed. There is strength in His biceps and fire in His eyes. There is a deep furrow to His brow. His hands blaze with fury.
His words are glass. They are jagged, cutting the air like a freshly honed sword.
His eyes penetrate space towards the maestro: Gabriel.
“WE MUST GO NOW! I WILL GET MY BRIDE!” He shouts in a tone unheard throughout the eons of time. His voice as a trumpet!
Quickly, He mounts His steed. He rides the lightening with rage; into the wind. He splits the sky!
We follow by the millions. We are close. We are unyielding. This is His day. It is our day.
The Great Emancipator rides with His army, with His brothers, with His children, He rides FOR HIS BRIDE!
The Overcomer’s day has arrived!
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