Fiction

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The planet's once formidable mantle is lined with cracks.  It has a sickly gray tinge this celestial body, transitioning mysteriously into shadow as I focus in on it.  By some means it elicits memories...haunting sensations of my life's sufferings, their bitter taste like bile in my mouth.  Leaning back, the planetoid takes on a nondescript aspect, just stony earth. 

My head turns dismissively. But a touch of intrigue draws my gaze back to it, through the mantle, into its core.In spite of a dark illusion surrounding this foreboding rock's burning heart like a great smog, I unearth what actually lies beneath in this the planet's center.  It's a lovely ruby mass, burning passionately, it actually IS love in the form of a fire.  Dazzling yet indistinct, this Holy love manifests before me.

A pillar of white-hot fire suddenly bursts past the planetoid's ionosphere into the depths of space.  This immeasurable outpouring is The Light Spirit.  He goes before the King of Persia, who's "buried" within this dark planet, leveling Hellish mountains that encased the monarch.  God's love sustained him in this grim plight.

In a tremendous detonation the planetoid's mantle shatters completely, its fragments dispersing like fireflies, off into the cosmos they vanish.

The Spirit accompanied Cyrus all the days of his life, succeeding in a noble task, leading him into freedom.  

The galactic sky around Persia's king transmutes to a royal purple and is laid robe like on his shoulders.  In this world's chasms, he's been refined into gold amidst furnaces of hardship.

And so a golden King manifests from the depths of this world, glowing with the purity of the furnace



The setting changes and now I spot Cyrus walking alongside a Cosmic woman in a park blessed by the Rose of Sharon.

The King, dressed in a beige uniform, picks a rose of particularly lush hue and inhales, a pentad medal gleaming on his chest.

This Rose is grace embodied.  Arriving at this place was beyond his powers, indeed it was an act of pure grace.




Renewal of the mind.

Yet again I am in the second heaven.  Zechariah, a hulking blue star, looms ahead of me.  Much like I did, this globe gives the impression of being imprisoned in a trance of overpowering isolation.
A voice from Heaven, filled with unshakable credence, makes a declaration unraveling his true state.
The Son's command causes the light inside this star, God's word/life, to flare.  Immediately the lamp of the wicked is extinguished, its smog dissipating.

His outer layers are steadily ejected as he is transformed by the renewing of his mind.  "Who is this star?"

A gorgeous planetary nebula is formed with the star's core exposed.   This is an allegory for one's spirit perhaps, the flawless person within being revealed.

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