#83: The Prize Lies Between Two Guise (Religion Vs Science)

So, You Try And Build Yourself A Picture,
A Concept Of The World's First Fixer,
The Dude Whose Magic Made The Mixture . . .
Of All That You See Here.
Think Of It As Just A Fixture . . .
A Seed Sprung Up From Some Elixir.
And It Don't Give A Wit Or Lick, Sir,
For Longa Deadski, Or Stilla Quickster . . .
They, Having Fled In Fear.

The Phil-Mobile eventually stopped,
and we were finally thrown
into the strangest landscape that
our journey'd ever shown.

Instead of a hill and grassy plain,
our usual landing sight,
we found a tiny chair and bench,
with sharply focused light.

A little old man, bent over at
a glass that magnified
his fingers fumbling with a stand,
and something that he tried . . .

his best to form, despite the lack
of tools which might have done
a better job of reaching ends
toward which he had begun.

It looked to be a diamond, but,
it hardly had a shine.
He chipped and buffed and polished it . . .
we guessed, with some design.

He never noticed when we walked
around to get a look
at who he was, and what he did . . .
and efforts that he took.

I tried to get a look at him,
to see what he might say,
but his intent was far too strong
for him to look our way.

So then, I knelt to table height,
in vain to see his face.
I saw the tiny diamond move,
like nothing commonplace.

He polished it, and seemingly,
as if all on its own,
it twisted, and it altered shape,
to his resigning groan.

He'd study it for a period of time,
and then he'd chip again.
The rock would move and modify
each time that he'd begin.

And this went on for hours, while
not one thing in the room
gave any indication of
more purpose to presume.

At some point, we determined, based,
on its response to him,
the diamond was a precious stone . . .
no ordinary gem.

It didn't show emotions, or
anything quite so weird,
but it gave us both the sense that it
was more than it appeared.

Very much like a puzzle from
some alien universe,
it defied the little man's attempts,
some secret to coerce.

Then, all at once a brilliant light
shot out and hit the man.
He sat up straight for a second or two,
and then leaned in again.

It must have been revealing like
a searing laser beam,
because the man's expression changed
into a knowing gleam.

For several minutes, he gave his work
renewed intensity,
trying to cut the diamond to
some jewel, and perfectly.

"Now, that seems pretty interesting,"
I chose that time to speak.
And though he might have heard me,
he never took a peek.

Jo looked startled at how loud
my voice had sounded there.
We realized the little man's work
did not disturb the air.

"To what were you referring, Bo?"
Jo-Mima whispered then.
"His reaction to that laser beam.
That could have done us in?"

"Well, yes," I said, "it hit him, and
it couldn't be too hot.
He would be burned between the eyes,
and clearly, he is not."

So, another quiet hour passed,
without the slightest sound.
Our subject never blinked or stretched,
or even looked around.

"There must be something more to this
than making pretty stones . . ."
Jo-Mima always was the first
to solve the toughest koans.

"Or, maybe he's a jeweler in
a back room at a mall . . .
or maybe making weapons, or
not even real at all."

Jo concluded, "One thing's clear,
this old dude can't abide
anything but a perfect gem
to see him satisfied."

I studied the man another while,
and knew that Jo was right.
The diamond changed, spit in his face,
and stung him with its light.

It was almost like he reveled in
every move it made,
adjusting his approach while his
goal would not be swayed.

Jo-Mima suggested something then
that really sounded great . . .
"It's like communication, and
it's like they can relate."

That room was small, and yes, of course,
the Buggy just sat there.
And we had not yet found the key . . .
the Buggy did not stir.

It seemed no matter how we might
study that little man,
we'd never likely figure out,
or understand his plan.

My patience with our progress was
beginning to wear thin.
I went to tap his shoulder, but
Jo-Mima spoke again.

"Check it out," he nearly yelled
which called my focus to
another vision opening that
allowed us to see through . . .

the wall that stood behind our dude,
to where we both could see
the scene we had been studying,
mirrored perfectly.

A little old man with tossled hair,
exactly like the one
we'd observed for hours now,
begged comparison.

At first, we said, "reflection," but,
despite its rarity,
the new dimension's opening
blurred not our clarity.

Prepared for weird, we studied more,
and noticed that this face
was different from the dude that we
observed in former space.

Instead of all absorption in
his work, with spurts of glee,
the new guy hardly worked at all,
but smiled, incessantly.

In place of solemn silence, he
was loud and boisterous.
He was yelling out at everyone . . .
though that was only us.

"The pearl of truth and wisdom is . . .
the pearl of all that be . . .
the truth, it's mine, I own it, and
I know it sets me free."

The words were changing slightly, but
the message stayed the same.
He shouted to the rafters that
he'd figured out the game.

The other thing we noticed was,
the closer that we looked . . .
the stone propped up before him was
the one that our dude worked.

And every time the first guy would
refine a single spot,
the stone in front of screamer-dude
mirrored every dot.

The new guy sort of bothered me . . .
he never looked to know
the meaning of the stone that he
enjoyed, so much, to show.

"Well maybe it's a blessing," I
then gestured Jo to see,
"at least the new guy ain't been hit
with laser beamery.

Damn, I just can't figure this . . .
the moment I've a clue
as to anything our dude's about,
there's something weird and new.

Jewelers, diamonds . . . perfect pearls,
this puzzle's so complex.
One dude studies, all obsessed . . .
the other screams, just hexed."

A long time later, we recognized
how far off we were,
but the Voice returned and mercifully,
decided to confer . . .

"There's always grades for trying, boys,
though you must win or fail.
And it appears, if I don't help,
you'll never end this tale.

I like this State. It's always fun,
as any human tries
to figure out the differences
between these little guys.

I admit, it might be difficult . . .
this mirror-contrast State
compares competing views of life . . .
no normal scale of fate.

You see, the first guy, Science.
He's seeking perfect truth.
The second dude's a religious man,
and opposite the sleuth.

And once you see their differences,
you'll quickly understand
the actions and perspectives in
the lives of two such men.

The first will seek solutions to
the questions of the 'How.'
The other doesn't seek at all,
but only likes to vow.

The first guy loves discovery's pain,
when stung by some new light.
It sets him on a better course,
and helps him get it right . . .

while information misses those,
content in spouting out.
New data only makes him mad,
and tends to make him doubt.

And neither one seeks righteousness.
The first guy pokes and jabs,
to gain some little insight on
the real Creator's labs . . .

while, ironically, the other fails
to hear when Heaven calls . . .
addicted to his fables, he
denies real miracles.

The lessons should be obvious
to iron-knees like you,
experienced in the begging of
a morsel of the true.

The one who screams the loudest on
possession of the facts
may be the one ignoring most
the methods truth exacts.

And, often it's the case the view
that can admit no wrong
sounds more like it might be real
since it's rehearsed so long.

Remember that the whole truth's not
possessed by any man.
Those who swear they have no doubts
deserve a careful scan.

And those who seek the truth despite
discomfort it might bring,
will be prepared to fully greet
creation's true wellspring.

Now go your way, adventurers . . .
before I help too much.
Eventually, you'll find that you
must feel with your own touch."

There was something sort of weird about
the Voice's exit sound,
but we had learned to recognize
when it was not around.

And Jo and I just kind of shrugged,
and simply turned about,
to stand before a Phil-mobile
that hummed and purred, full-out.

We took our seats and shuffled through
the cards upon the floor.
The windshield blurred with images.
Jo-Mima shut the door.