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Previous Challenge Entry (Level 3 – Advanced)
Topic: In and Out (04/30/09)

TITLE: The Song of the Meadow Dark
By Jae Blakney
05/05/09


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A soft and summery hum was the bumblebee’s song of praise. The iris worshiped in blue and yellow silence. Together they danced before the king.

And they were not the only dancers. The whole meadow was alive with other bees on other blooms, with waving grass and laughing brook, with bluebirds and rabbits and lambs and little children. Together they danced a tribute of joyful thanks before the king.

No sun shone on that meadow, nor was any moon to be seen. The king himself was the light there, and so bright was he that the sun would have looked feeble and cold beside him. And everywhere his light touched, life grew and praised the king.

At the edge of the meadow, and all around it, stood alabaster pillars, and joining the pillars were alabaster arches. There were no gates in the archways, for the archways were always open to all who would enter to worship the king.

Some of the children carried bags of precious seed, and as these children danced, they left the meadow through the arches. Other children returned with their bags empty, but they did not return alone. They brought other children, skipping and playing and joining the dance. They brought grown men and women, counting aloud as they struggled to keep in step. They brought white-haired elders, walking stiffly and carrying many books of rules for how to dance before the king.

Some of the men and women picked up bags of precious seed, and others did not. Those who did not soon grew weary of dancing. Their hair became white and their bodies old. But those who picked up the seed began to dance without counting, began to skip and began to play. And as they played, they grew younger. When they had fully grown into children, they danced out between the alabaster pillars to sow and to reap for the king.

Dotting the meadow were many small huts. In the walls of the huts were no windows. Inside the huts no bees hummed and no flowers bloomed, no birds sang and no children skipped. Each hut had one door, and it was tightly shut. To these huts the elders marched with their heavy books, entering quickly and shutting out the joyful meadow of the king.

In every hut the elders huddled in the dark. And from every hut came the same tired and tuneless singing, as the elders intoned, “What mercy is given to us, that of all the huts, we have been drawn to the one hut where shines the light of the king.”


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Member Comments
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Beth LaBuff 05/11/09
Great title! I like your contrast of the "king himself was the light" and the "sun would have looked feeble and cold beside him."
Colin Swann05/12/09
Your imaginary piece is certainly unique - I do think thinking young is the way to stay young. But whatever state we find ourselve, Jesus the light of the world is the best tonic. Thanks for sharing. Colin