can the sacred be made real?

can the sacred be made real?

fiction
edward w pritchard

Can the sacred be made Real? Or has life become as sacred as a bombing raid?

Cold reality reveals a disrespect for eternity; how can existence measured in less than one hundred years have any purpose that continues forward after one's death?

Beauty in nature, fascination in contemplation about colossal distances across light years in time and space; all end in the physical destruction of  the corporal body of each and every individual. There is no significant connection between persons or generations. Continuance of the species is flux without order only chance probabilities.

Babylon, ancient Egypt, or the Medici of Renaissance Florence eradicated and forgotten. As if the individuals involved never existed at all. The only order or significance convoluted historicism on the margins of a few rare books or in the Art galleries in the astonishing eyes of the somber portraits by the great artists.

It's early Sunday morning here. The churches are locked and no blood drips from the victim on the sagging cross.

We strain to hear the church bells from Assisi and long to forget too much that we have learned.