The Way Forward

Standing on Stage Left, Prince Ishmael inhaled deeply the war-torn environment about him, tinge of smoke continuous in the air.  Thoughts going back to his Creator, he remembered the call that brought him here…  to this stage.  To his right stood an unattended podium, bullet proof glass protruding upward, microphone standing at the ready.

Eyes surveying the gathering of people, he realized that very few of his countrymen were still alive that witnessed a “previous” Persia.  People like him who had seen it…  had witnessed a time when Persia embraced democracy, peace, and fair trade… and thrived… when Persia was free and good and flourishing.  Maybe it was the future he was seeing??  He wasn’t certain.

“And it shall be in the last days, saith God, I will pour forth of my Spirit upon all flesh; And your sons and your daughters shall prophesy.  And your young men shall see visions.  And your old men shall dream dreams.” – Acts 2:17

And he had dreamt it.  And his generation will only further dwindle in time and war…

“Time crumbles things; all things grow old and are forgotten through the passage of Time.” – Aristotle

A young girl and her mother snacked on an overturned cement barrier, rubble from what once was this community’s urgent care center.    Ashamed of what the Almighty must think of us, he was again reminded of his call.

“But the Lord shows his Love for us in this; while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us.” – Romans 5:8

He focused on this mother’s child.  Probably 3 years old, he figured.  She was unwashed, eating from a ration packet on blown-up rubble in a burnt-out city, and seemingly without a care in the world.  She noticed his gaze and smiled at him, renewing a glint of hope in his spirit.  Breaking eye contact, he rested in the positive.  He was surprised this stage still stood as one piece.  The city damage would take years to rebuild, as well as create more young men looking for payback… more cries, more laments.  Will it ever end?

Lost loved ones, lost dreams of the future, a constant fear of death lingering upon all who inhabit the land.  Why would Allah allow this?  Why would he place me here, in the middle of the rubble, among a broken and desperate people?  

Because the Americans killed your father and your brother?  Or was it the Israeli’s?  Or did the banks and businesses fund it all in hopes of Petro-Yuan?  Did he really even care anymore?  Should he?  Or should he look after his son, leave this land for someone else to tend, leave the stage?  Let the Apostle decide.  Gazing again to the empty podium at his right, the prince took another deep breath of the war-torn environment surrounding him.

Letting all the thoughts go, he returned to his current state:  This stage, and the call that brought him here.  All the younger generations have ever known is Theocracy.  And because they can’t remember better times, can’t remember when they had value apart from the State, can’t remember when they were not at war, it will certainly be an uphill battle.  Change always is.  Jihad ending…  IF the Apostle willed him to try, he reminded himself.

He checked his watch, instinctively knowing he shouldn’t.  A gift from his now deceased father, and “his” since the martyr of his older brother.

“Holding on to anger is like grasping a hot coal with the intent of throwing it at someone else; you are the one who gets burned.” – Buddha

Again his head shook slightly, his soul reacting to the futility of it all.  Gaze again going to the empty podium beside him, he questioned all of it.  Why would the Apostle bring me here?  What could this False Prophet from America possibly have to say that the Almighty would compel me to listen?

“Smoke, nothing but smoke.  There’s nothing to anything – it’s all smoke.” – Ecclesiastes 1:2

Empty podium to his right becoming more ominous as time progressed, he wondered again if this was all for nothing, a wisp in the air, a smoke of delusion – but only for a moment.  He remembered, he was reminded.  Apologizing to the Holy Apostle, the prince cleared his throat intent on beginning his speech.

“Treat your soldiers like you very own children, and they will follow you into the depths of the earth.” – Sun Tzu