He was born. With a gasp he
remembered his previous life. For once it hadn't ended so badly, he
hadn't died violently or alone. Oh! Now he remembered all the times
he had lived. He was doomed to live all lives because, one day, when
he had lived them all, he would understand—become, you know, god.
He wondered where he was. This must
be Mother, and her warm breast, which she offered him.
“And Father, he's quite a bit
older than the last guy. And who are the three coots offering gifts?
That looks like a donkey! In my
bedroom! My folks have shacked up in a manger! Where the hell am I?”
He looked around desperately for escape.
Then he yawned. With every sip of
Mother's milk the baby's thoughts became a little more cloudy. He
forgot the shopkeeper's life he'd lived in Memphis, the cobbler in
Macedon, the farmer in Gaul, the dancing girl in Rome. He forgot them
all as he started his new life, in a manger, in Bethlehem.
No comments:
Post a Comment