The Leap of the Maniac

Give is conscious—in the sense it is the preeminent gesture in life.  The servant becomes royalty and the king becomes a servant with the voluntary choice to give. The river flows in four directions from this throne. The circle of humanity is complete in the giving of the servant king.
Get is unconscious—in the sense it is the manna on the ground every morning at sunrise. It is the prince born into his miraculous kingdom with frankincense and myrrh laid beneath his cradle.
Until get means want
In wanting getting crawls into the light of consciousness, but to a dark, unnatural kind of light. The dimly lit fluorescence of the future.  With the advent of wanting, the breeze and shade of the garden, which is getting that is already having, turns into the strain and sweat of the fall.  And what of all the world is offered to a soul under this black sun?  It is only Satan’s loneliest bread, it is all the kingdoms of the world but only surveyable from the uninhabitable air of the stratosphere, it is only the suicidal jump from the precipice—not faith’s leap, but logic's.  Not a leap of faith into the father’s invisible hands, but a leap of logic into the faithless certainty of a maniac, his blind eyes leveled in arrogance, secure in the knowledge that controlling his choice is the same as controlling his outcome, sure of his next immortal step.  Certain the 10,000 hands of the cosmos are simply a machine under his command.  Yet it is only thought, only conceptual, it is only a granting of three wishes, only a leading into three temptations—not real, not God. Do not follow this dark glow to the inverted landscape of reversed values where gray and gray and gray is the only comfort.  Where getting means grasping and grappling air and wanting means lacking and giving only means exchanging money at the lender’s table.  A topsy turvy world where holding on is the only way not to fall even as it chokes the life out of life.
Come into the light of day. The green pasture of “I shall not want.” Lay under the firey light of the sun.  Stand up and let go and laugh at the bottomless sky. Walk over the brightest peaks, and under the shadow of death.  With outstretched arms walk through the driest lands.  Walk and walk and walk.  Forever walk as one who walks on water.