Flawless

Jacob walked the streets of the great city in pain. Hopelessness and despair filled his being as he searched for a means to end the mental torment. To Jacob, it wasn’t "mental torment" as a psychiatrist may refer to it as. His pains and delusions were as real as the World Trade Center once was.

"Do you not know what lies before you? Repent!" he demanded crowds of people in the business district on their way to work. They looked at him with an evil eye and went on about their business.

But Jacob saw it all very clearly. The end of times, the beginning of sorrows.

Suicide never crossed his mind, although everything else did– racing thoughts. He didn’t have the ability to blow of his worries any longer. His worries seemed to control his destiny.

Jacob was trapped in hell.

Everyone else seemed to be happy heading off to their nine to fives but Jacob had to save souls. After all, if he didn’t have something to show in the end, he would remain trapped in the crazy maze for all of eternity.

He grew tired and weary from the mid-day heat in July 2002 and his curbside preaching was making his throat sore. He needed to rest, he was so tired, but the urgency of the matter at hand– Armageddon, would not let him rest. He hadn’t slept in nearly three days, although he wished he could.

He sought out shade in a park known as Sheridan Square Park in the heart of New York City’s West Village, smack dab in the middle of Christopher Street– Gay U.S.A. "You cock suckers better repent too!" he shouted from his park bench as effeminate men in cut off short-shorts wondered up and down the popular gay tourist strip.

He entered the garden-like park.

The burning sensation in his feet subsided while standing within the fence of the city park which ran only a few yards long and wide.

Statues of gay men and women holding each other stood next to Jacob in the park. He studied the sculptures briefly and was mesmerized by the pure artistry of the pieces.

Others who had tasted the torture of life’s dark side rested within the garden upon benches. Jacob found peace among those in worn and tattered clothing– the homeless.

He wanted to talk to the homeless who looked like he felt. He wanted to ask questions about where one can go and what one can do when the great darkness descends upon the soul. But the vagabonds only looked at him with faces of compassion and understanding.

They all knew not to speak to the one who faces the wrath of the dark night. The spirit of a man undergoing a spiritual baptism can easily transfer negative energy upon the unawakened.

Although they too were awakened, they wanted nothing to do with Jacob’s tormented emotions.
The street people watched blood trickle from the feet of the young man who wondered the city without shoes or sandals for two weeks. To Jacob, his bloody feet were evidence that his delusion of crucifixion was real. But to everyone else, including the homeless people in the park, it all seemed so silly– such a waste of time to even care about another poor city resident who had "cracked" and lost his reality bearings.

Jacob sat on the bench all afternoon, too terrified to leave the boundaries of the park, for this was truly, the first time in days, he was able to sit still for more than ten minutes.

Not even the homeless would strike up a conversation with him, with the exception of those who wanted a cigarette. Jacob started to believe he was dead and he almost came to terms with that until he noticed a person sleeping in the park near him.

"I know him from somewhere." Jacob whispered to himself.

He watched the man sleep for nearly two hours as the sun went down in the Big Apple. Voices in Jacobs head were fading away. It seemed as though the sleeping man somehow chased them away.

He noticed how handsome the stranger’s face was– strong and focused. The man was glowing in the darkness. He didn’t have a shopping cart full of belongings. All he had with him were the clothes on his tall muscular body.

Despite his surroundings and circumstance, the man was someone important, Jacob thought-- perhaps a reincarnated prophet, a saint or quite possibly the messiah himself.

Jacob crawled slowly across the red bricks which paved the ground within in the park and nestled under the bench where the handsome homeless man lay asleep.

The stranger cast an aura of pure peace over Jacob as he slowly allowed his energy to merge with the homeless man above him on the bench.

He lay under the bench, perfectly still and in bliss. "Was this an angel?" Jacob asked God.
There was no answer this time when he prayed. That was a relief. Perhaps the madness had ended.

The homeless man’s hand dangled from the edge of the bench. Jacob lifted his head and allowed the hand to touch the top of his head– his crown chakra.

Jacob felt a surge of energy pass through the top of his head. He saw a golden ring in his imagination as the hand touched his hair. He thought perhaps the vision of a golden circle was a halo, but the homeless man jumped from his sleep and from the park bench.

"Damn, what the fuck?!" exclaimed the street man. He had an erection and it was very noticeable through the tight, filthy jeans he wore.

Jacob laid motionless hoping the man did not notice him under the bench.

But the homeless man, realizing that energy had been taken from him peaked under the park bench to investigate.

Jacob ran from the boundaries of the park as fast as he could and vanished into the crowds of people wondering the streets of the city.