moment, I did feel foolish, but then the tone
began ringing. "If you were who you
purport to be, you would not come to me
wearing a false image. You would show me
who you really are." Beginning to cry, but
refusing to remove her ceramic head, I said,
"Do you fear that by showing your true self,
you will no longer be loved?" She didn't
respond. "Perhaps you should know that
unless you show me your true self, I cannot
heal you." Still, she refused to remove her
disguise.
Turning to walk away, an old man
appeared and stopped me. "One must be
willing to know that which lives in darkness,
in order to become capable of altering it."
Turning back around, I shot a beam of light
to her head as it cracked and fell to pieces.
In her hand, she now held a human
heart, severed from her own body. Looking
into her face, I saw uncaring disguised as
religious dogma, sloth disguised as
victimization, heartlessness disguised as
political views, arrogance disguised in self-
esteem, and perhaps the most painful;
manipulation and self-aggrandizement,
disguised as some form of spirituality. "I am
humanity," she said, "I show you my heart."
brent
(Brent)
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