Divine Child by Will Firth

Author:Will Firth
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sandorf Passage
Published: 2021-05-15T00:00:00+00:00

PART III

In which semi-scientific and semi-medical analyses of the general illness of the place and time gather momentum. This chapter also goes into greater depth in analyzing Mother’s character, now viewed from a broader perspective, in which she is a sample specimen, planted like a seed in a jar so that through careful monitoring one might be able to ascertain changes, development, and sprouting, in other words the platitudes of one such plant—Mother—or any person. All, of course, for furthering the realization that people are much more similar and alike than we usually think and muse, which is to say that Mother as an individual gradually declines in importance to make way for reflections on people in general.

The hospital, a divine light, and finally, almost always, the ego

AT LEAST THE hospital was always within reach. But it became ever busier there and admission ever harder—and it was almost like winning the lottery to get a place there, in other words a bed, where the person with the wounded soul could rest their head.

There were so many people wounded in the soul and who wanted to walk with other wounded souls around the hospital grounds, gather fallen acorns or crushed cigarette butts, and quickly stick them into the pockets of their hospital gowns that they now needed even better and steadier nerves to help them endure the time until their turn came and they could go to the hospital.

Not everything was milk and honey in the hospital, but at least there were others who were similar and who bore a secret in their hearts that they did not wish to speak about because they felt that by doing so they would hurt too many people, or they thought that speaking about the secrets would lead to changes in their own lives—changes they were not prepared for.

Therefore they kept those big and terrible secrets concealed in their hearts, like money in hidden safes, and the more time passed, the more the secrets galled them because over time they grew and grew, swelling with the desire to be released. That was not allowed to happen, and the secrets and the soul inside them hurt them more and more, to the extent that they felt they would burst asunder in pain and mute silence and end up at the bottom of an abyss, where was nothing but eternal night and eternal sleep.

There are remedies for eternal sleep, too. Perhaps the problem is only a lack of iron in the blood, and therefore the person lacks strength and forever wants to sleep. If the problem is a lack of iron in their blood, it is sufficient to stick a nail into an apple, leave it there overnight, and eat the apple the next day. That way you can put more iron into your blood and get back the strength you thought was lost.

It is the same with the mind, which can also become completely lost, and that happens precisely to the most intelligent people, precisely

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