Tyler's words

My brother is probably one of the most intellegent people I know. He also writes like a greek god. He recently posted this on his own blog, and I am stealing it to share with all of you. Growing up on the prairies and letting our imaginations run wild produced my brilliant brother.


I remember the days of my youth, when we rode as young gods through elysian fields, masters of all we surveyed. The ground rolled beneath us like silk and the wind played with our hair and we flew, wingless, over a sea of gold. Trees bunched like soldiers stood in copses and dells, guarding the silence and shade, and all about the small animals rooted and strode like citizens of some great, imaginary kindgom that bowed to none but us. The skies shone azure and silver, and the sun shouted for joy, and the nights were wrapped in midnight silk strewn with diamonds. When nature turned, it was with eagerness and not with rage that the winds howled and the clouds brewed light and sound, and the sky became a sea and tossed us like corks in its spray. All about us at every moment we were surrounded by retainers and loyal servants, not-men who watched us with careful eyes and hidden obedience. Should we have lived forever, we could not have outlasted the wonder and pleasure of those hills.

And that is why I believe in heaven, and how I learned to believe in God, and why I am not overly concerned with the circumstances of my death. It was granted to me to begin in a shadow of where I will end; how then can I fear or despise the carriage that will take me back? I was born on a hilltop to catch a glimpse over the horizon. When I see the pale horse and rider galloping down the road toward that glimpse, I cannot feel sad for the passenger, terrified as they might be. Knowing all this, how could I not want my friends to join me in those fields? Down the other road I have not seen, but I know it cannot be that eternal delight I knew, and I am told it is pale, and cold, and lonely. Why should I not want those I love to be with me in feasts and rides and dances in the sun forever? Why should I not want to do the will of the Lord of those fields, to share with others the tiny sliver I can offer of hope for those fields, to point over the tall, dark hill and say "just beyond, I have seen paradise!"