Thou art thou, thus I am I; but time is time.
I had a vision, I admit or confess reluctantly, very reluctantly, which occurred while resting in bed one evening and has not diminished as dreams diminish or evolve.
I saw a path leading to a white throne. The throne was white, as ivory. The throne featured ornament in the shape of horns and flowers emanating from it. To either side of the path were six lambs on both sides of the path, 12 in all, not facing the throne directly, but inclined at about a 45 degree angle.
Beneath the path and spreading out on all sides, or at least to the right and left, seemingly circular, at something like a foot or two beneath the path and the lambs and the throne, was a pool of emerald green, which I understood to be water, but was perfectly calm. At a distance of some 100 feet or so, perhaps a bit closer, or farther, was a strange, dark woods. Like the edge of a forest but made of stone. There were no gaps. The trees were uniform in height, say, 15 feet or so, with thick trunks and rich foliage, but impenetrable. Where I looked for space between the trees was a dense, inadmissible wall of rock, like sandstone. The trees themselves featured brown trunks and dark green, absolutely immovable foliage, as if they too were made of stone. They formed an impenetrable wall.
Overhead was pure blue, seemingly close, but at the same time impossibly far away. I don't know how else to describe it.
The throne – and I have thought about this for a few days now, hoping to understand my impression – was empty to me eyes, though I am certain it was not empty, in fact, in impression. I cannot offer any other description – however the throne was not empty, and I am at a loss to describe the form or nature of presence, either by which the throne itself was invested or occupied.
I will say this, as I am compelled to say this at the moment of this writing, to say, to write and say as one whose head is bowed, forgive me, that I believe that the Lord, impossible to my eyes, resided there. I cannot say other, for the throne was apparent in all its details but most certainly was not empty. No, I am sure of that. No. Like the word “love” bearing on the lips of a lover, the Lord was there, impossible to my poor, blighted vision, but perfect to the lambs of the old and the new covenant who were facing the throne, though obliquely, perhaps out of deference.
I cannot say. I do not understand why I of all people should be granted anything other than time and place to breathe and care for something more.
But so, the waters of life underlie us all, even to the new and the old life, under the forebearance of lambs; and so the world and its nature – the woods of stone - bear upon us, and shield us, yes, it must be confessed, for we are so very slight, a whisper in the chorus of praise, who have eyes to see and a mind to listen to ourselves. I too have a mind, a heart that turns and, not knowing, without seeing, believes.