Salvation
Masquerading under a starry sky, street lamps’ halos crowning our philistine scalps, we advance through the sanctified night. Traversing through the land of the pure, we know only those who embody grace may pass. Stopped by a shining halberdier, we are asked bluntly, “By what measure is a man good?” Struck nervous by the eminence of this shining halberdier, my anxious mind can produce only one answer, “‘Good’ is not a state of being. ‘Good’ is a judgement, and depends on the whim of the judge. Whom may fill the role of judge?” This shining halberdier, being the sole guarding force of this sanctified avenue, silently shoos us away as if pestered by our presence. You see, this shining halberdier answers not to himself but to a higher power. Our actions, no matter how benevolent, cannot grant us passage. Salvation is granted not through actions, but through submission. Denied passage, we turn back towards the darkness whence we came, aiming to carve our own salvation out of the obsidian blackness that is death.
