Garden of the Damned Quadriplegics

I wrote this today. I was talking last night to a young man who wants to get past a sin in his life and he doesn’t understand why he can’t do it on his own. I explained to him that in the spiritual world, we are all C1 quadriplegics. And this led to me writing this today.

It is dark in context, as I believe the spiritual world really is for us. We are all in this garden of the damned now. I could have talked about the church or evangelism, but I felt that distracted from the point.



Garden of the Damned Quadriplegics
Spiritual Lives

The ragged man, clothed in white, moves through the garden of the damn.

He searches for any who will call out his name. He pushes open the locked gates with his hands, piercing them as he does.

The red-eyed crows and ravens caw and hiss at him, warning him away from their garden.

The manged-crowned lions tear and eat the flesh in the garden of quadriplegics.

The sulfuric wispy wolves rip and shred, breaking bones and crushing cartilage with their tar covered teeth.

The quadriplegics feel nothing. They cannot see the wolves and lions. Their bodies are sprawled, splayed, and staked out. They are crumpled, crushed, and crinkled.

They cannot feel the psyche-tearing rats crawling through their bodies, eating and gnawing and chewing as they tunnel into their mind to nest and possess.

They are only able to look up into the eyes of the snake. The beautiful, multi-colored snake. The snake hypnotizes and entices, laying flat on their face, wrapped around their neck, crushing their C1 vertebrae.

The quadriplegics are in love with the snake as the wolves and lions feed. The snake whispers to them that they are gods. The snake tells them their mind is all that matters. The snake tells them that their bodies will be remade into something new.

The great blackened bull with lightning crackling in his horns and fire in his breath plows up the bodies, breaking them up so their blood and organs ruin the soul it tills. The poisoned soil erupts with new offspring of the Bull and the Snake, demonic children ravenous for flesh.

Some mad heads of the quadriplegics love the snake so much that all that is left of their bodies is their rotten head. They declare they are gods and they will remake their bodies and minds by their will.

Some vain heads fear the snake, but refuse to call out to the ragged man wearing white robes. He’s not as glorious as the snake they fear. They do not want rags, but they want the glory the snake whispers to them as it squeezes tighter and tighter around their necks.

Some broken heads recognize they are being destroyed by the wolves, lions, and the bull. They cry out for the ragged man in white robes. They know the snake is lying and for too long they let the snake lie to them. No more they cry out to the ragged man. No more.

He rushes to them, crushing the snake, and he nurses them and feeds them slowly to help them gain strength. He shoos away the ravens and crows with his staff made from a fig tree.

He smashes the wolves and the lions. He pulls out each rat, one by one, and he breaks the horns of the Bull.

The heads try to help the ragged man who has saved them. They do not know they are quadriplegics. They do not know they can only accept his strength.

The ragged man spoon feeds them, clothes their naked, scarred, crippled, ruined bodies and stabilizes them so they can survive the journey ahead.

He carries them gently in his arms, fighting off the bull and the snake who try to snatch the bodies away. But they always fail because he always wins against them. He takes thier ruined bodies away from the garden of the damned. He brings them to his home to complete their healing.

His home has rich soil and good ground. Life here flourishes in every corner. Light is like food in his home.

Here the heads regain their bodies, never again to be plucked at by the red-eyed crows and ravens. Never to have the blackened and burnt bull plow their bodies to dust to grow the damned demonic children from the cursed soil. Never to feed the ravenous sulfuric wolves and manged-crowned lions. Never to be a nest to demonic rats tunneling through their minds.

When the ragged man throws off his rags in his home, he sits high on his throne and the quadriplegics-no-more praise and sing gratitude for his grace and his mercy. Their new lives have begun and the garden of the damned has been defeated.