last moon

Wednesday, August 1, 2012

Afterlife 's things

Now little Joe had finally realized. When he was of this world he had wondered many times, never find a reason with it, why the two worlds, the here and the afterlife one, were separated and incommunicable.

He had fallen asleep that night, as always, fantasizing about the worlds of the past, convinced that somewhere there were those ancient Romans who admired so much, or the heroes of Homer that he found so enthused by reading his works, or even its ancient ancestors of Sardinia and Sicily, who appeared in various costumes, in a long procession of worshipers on their way. And  the Spanish conquistadores, who rode like heaven in front of huge crowds of  shouting Indians. And every night was a different trip of  fantastic inner world on his imagination.

Smiled the boy, but in a different way from what appeared on the photo of the tomb where his mother  never missed on putting  fresh flowers.

His Mom! What a feeling, to touch her hair, just sprinkled with gray, in the guise of an impalpable gust of wind! Of course his mother could not understand that the sudden disruption of her  hair, or the prurience's  cheek, or the fleeting fluttering of his coat were always quick strokes of her little Joe!

But maybe it was better that way. Had she just imagined she would certainly be scared. Thank goodness that the good God had not enabled the material contact between the two worlds, even if in the end, little Joe was not so convinced that her mother did not hear him beside her.

If he could talk to her, he would say  his mother that the ancient worlds, so much those  he longed for night and day, were there, in the same places where the living world of the living soil. It was enough to depart to the sky  with the speed of light and stop at a certain moment, in order to see,  all around the Colosseum,   the crowded arena of trade shows and gladiators, senators, and the old roads used by heavy boots of the Roman soldiers armed with shields and spears, merchants, innkeepers and prostitutes, and hilarious comedies of Plautus, which did so much fun on the benches of the school: everything was there, as if two thousand years had never passed away.
And in the eternal joy with Jesus, Joseph and Mary, the saints, the angels and the spirits of the immortal Dante, Leopardi, Shakespeare, Holderlin, now little Joe sang the praises of the infinite greatness of God.

How could he now his jubilant spirit, explain to mortals that the time that we live is just a small segment of the space-time, integrated into an infinite geometric curve that evolves seamlessly from night time immemorial? how to say that our spirits are prisoners   of their material  bodies, and above all, we are slaves of our rational prejudices? Well then God was right making  incommunicable the two  worlds. And he would wait the infinite universe reunification, to rejoint with her mother and with the other more candid souls of the world!

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