The tranquil, tangerine sunset just soothed my soul with its calm, coral rays and brought me to anoverwhelming and equally radiant sense of the sublime quality of mercy,
a sensus divinatatus
thatNature always forgives after unleashing her fury. Such a profound discovery led me to believe it would be my last and so, I started to tell magical stories of reconciliation, rain and revelation at a 14
street keg party as if they were tales from a whole new Genesis.My improbable voyage of day-scovery had all the key plot points of an early Biblical narrative. The
“Legend of the Sandstorm” began with moments of awakening, hints at the traditionally esoteric
then was followed by trials of an elusive, passionate faith tested through fierce tactics of deceptionbefore climaxing in a customized revelation which served as a gentle reminder that forgiveness
always follows the Creator’s fury. Therefore it had the power to enchant gre
at imaginations, despite
being narrated at an underage “failed BAC
My old but mutually polarizing friend and current next floor neighbor, Jack West, was spellbound by the narrative. His demeanor quickly matured to one of profound attentiveness, pious posture and
authentic inquisitiveness, following the carefully worded preface. Jack’s respect for the Legend and
open ears never wavered in the sequence.
“That’s the kind of story you could pass down to your kids.” Spoke Jack with genuine con
fidencefollowing the closing lines and the symbol of the subtle, unsung rainbow. Jack was a convert along with a variety of late teens who had scattered from the ruit and flip cuptables to catch a quick listen to my tale, whether voluntary or overheard. Most tuned in with politereassurance and perhaps, peaking curiosity. Mary was mesmerized by the mystical power, divine
intervention elements of the “Sand Storm” and my graceful, quiet confidence with the language.
“Your stories sound very inspired, Tom.” Mary told me with faithful, Aqua
“Thanks, Mary. They've definitely woken me up.”
“I trust that God chose to reveal this to you for a
“I do too. I feel like he has a
mission for me. Just not sure what it is yet.”
My oldest friend and current housemate Dave Wiley
however, wasn’t such a natural convert. The
Hemingway disciple was very skeptical of the idea that his slovenly friend of twelve years had justunlocked the secrets of the world during a marathon streak of insomnia.
“Yeah God does have a special mission for you…he said to get some sleep and stop tweaking!”
“Well why did I clock in a 4:01 for four straight days, then at four o’clock exactly today if there wereno Dues Ex Machina elements involved?”
“Fish, you’re freaking me out man. Go hop on the ruit table, I’ll meet you there.” Spoke Dave tilting
his head toward the vacant, seven foot, mini-table.