Sunday Morning XVIII

I always thought that life should come with a book of instructions.

"It does. It does." Folks say as they hand you a Bible. A Koran. A Bhagavad Gita. A Talmud.

And you earnestly study it. You really do. Seeking answers. The right way. The only way. To find salvation. Become a finer, more noble spirit.

So tell me please, what is noble about killing your brother in the name of God? Killing anything is blasphemy. If you have swatted a fly because it annoys you, you have killed too much.

As a Muslim, a Christian, a Jew or a Buddhist . . . as mankind . . . you are my brother.

If I have your blood on my hands, how can I enter the Kingdom of God?

There is only one key that will gain me admittance to that Kingdom Beyond. Only the key of love unlocks the gates to that final, Holy, resting place. And if our hands are bloody, the key slips right through our fingers.
Chae