A clap of thunder in the wind, streaks of lightning passing over them. The waves of the sea with thunderous sounds beat against the earth as they pranced around. They danced through the night around what seemed to be some sort of altar with a sacrifice on it. The wind howled like an angry god; they thought they had come to appease him with a sacrifice of blood. Their faces were painted with the blood of the sacrifice, as they chanted things that should not be heard.
Like wolves with a passion they encompassed round and around, waiting to feed upon their prey; wailing to the wind and the rain to cease from its game. With spears in their hands they pranced and danced, jabbing at their sacrifice, and calling to the wind to calm itself for them.
A short distance away a young boy awoke, hearing the thunder had awakened him. Outside the wind roared, and the rain poured, and the fountains of the deep gushed forth. The thunder spoke words of feelings that could be felt deep within the soul.
The young boy went to the window where he had often gone to look out upon the world to get a feel of it; for he could not leave, for his Father had said, not yet. As he looked out the window he saw people fleeing, and screaming, running away to some higher ground. And then he looked out over towards the sea, and saw the people dancing around. In a little while they all stopped, and one of them lifted up the sacrifice; and he saw, he saw it was a child all mangled and torn; and I believe it was the Chieftain’s firstborn.
He quickly shut the window, and turned to run back to his bed; for the things which he saw burned in his head. But his Father was standing there, and he said, my son; come over here and sit at my right hand, and tell me what you have seen. Thus the young boy came over and sat down, and told him all that he had seen. And his Father said cry my son-; cry for them.., and for me; for the silence of the lambs has smitten me.
The following night was as black as coal; the storm had stopped the day before. Blood dripped from lintels, and from doors; silence reigned in this dark abode. A spirit descended knocking at each door; death was its purpose nothing more. The young boy had been awake for quite some time; watching out his window, watching them die. A horrible cry arose up from the earth, a cry from the living for their dead. On an altar lay his son as he stood there pleading for his dead: the child did not stir, nor did he awake. Surely this must be Pharaoh’s firstborn.
The child closed the window, and turned to return to bed, and there his Father sat. And his Father said, my son; come over here and sit at my right hand, and tell me what you have seen. Thus the child came over and sat, and told him all that he had seen. And his Father said cry my son-; cry for them.., and for me: for the silence of the lambs has smitten me.
The following morning about the third hour, the young boy was watching out his window, and he saw a multitude of people surrounding, and people crying. Crucify, crucify, for this is he whom we deny. Let his blood be on us and upon our children after us. And they chastised him with whips and cords, forty lashes minus one; rips his back up flesh and core. The cry of the people arise more and more, like a chant of death knocking at the door; whispering life’s end has come once more. A crown of thorns is laid on his head, piercing the scalp like a razor that should cut deep within the head. As the commandment went forth they led him away, down to a hill; the mount of death.
The child watched from his window with horror in his eyes, and as they pierced his flesh the boy cried. And as the darkness passed over the land, the earth did quake with the deeds of mortal man. Thus the young boy remembered what his Father had said. Cry my son-; cry for them.., and for me: for the silence of the lambs has smitten me. Then the young boy understood, and he cried with a loud voice, My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me-; for the bleating of the lambs has smitten me.
This darkest tale of wisdom I have written within, speaks to the soul of the sheep you know; so why does it seem so long to take you to comprehend this perfect song. Hearken and hear, for this is what I procure, the first, the second, and then the third, each to a wise man will surely hear.
For he was slain before
the foundation of the world.
