I sat upon a bench…

2/8/2015

Last week I wrote a blog and curious followers, including an attorney commented how they didn’t understand its cryptic content. “Good, for you” I say. For any who did understand, then every word I write from here to eternity will have you have you sitting at the edge of your seat…waiting for the other shoe to drop…specifically a size 10.

For two days I sat and listened to what can only be called, the precursor to the final chapter. But it was sooooooo much more than that…it was informative. This is why it has taken so long to write here. Other words more valuable have been spent elsewhere…other eyes have seen their worth, as is fitting and just.

Do you understand…the Jenga Effect? (Which I will now copyright here!)

The Jenga Effect (according to the gospel of TA and Glele) in this case, is when a story that has been told and carefully built up over time; each layer being added by another and crafted into a tight fit, so that all the joints of the lies are perfectly dovetailed into the other… begins to fall apart, piece by piece…it stands for a time… then falters…then finally gives way as the foundation has so many holes… it can no longer support the weight of the collective.

What I witnessed the other day was the slow and deliberate removal of a peg here…a peg there and the first hints of a wobble within the carefully crafted tower. For those of you involved–and I mean, “involved” you already understand the connection of the Tarot to this case and all the others in the tower that must fall when the Tower card appears. The Tower card shows only two that flail away from the burning capstones…the two of the unholy trinity left. But who will be buried beneath the rubble of their collective lies after they are all dead?

“Change,” they say…555’s abound!

For years, those in command for the defense–not of the suspect, but of the lie, have done their best to keep the pegs at the bottom solid. “Let them pull from the top” you whisper, “…we can survive that.” But now, it is the bottom pegs of the tower that have begun to falter and so you begin the count.

How many more can be removed before the tower falls and who will be there…crushed beneath it?

How do we hide the skeletons in our closets? The ones we so carefully buried under the roses… the ones that got out and walked about the streets as night- safe in their overcoats of furry blackmail? Or the ones that scratched with their pens or cruised the halls of edification with another kind of teaching in mind?

Murder makes for strange bedfellows they say and business partners as well… and all the professional temper tantrums in the world cannot put this Humpty Dumpty back together again. The egg is rotten…its contents already spoiled. Can you not smell the stench? The back of the lie is broken and now has but months before the shell completely cracks and the collective deceit oozes out and fries upon the heated concrete of public contempt.

What would not be believed in times gone by, has found new ears to listen…new eyes to read and it is an epic and inspiring tome that would make it’s subject proud.

The word is like a dagger…it cuts both ways; for even as it hides the household, it reveals the city.

I have a poem too, says the messenger.

I sat upon a bench and watched a murder of crows dance within the walls of justice today- doing their best to hold back the truth. Their banter banging about in my head, same as the screams that bounced between the rocks…and echoed into the canyons, the grove and the opened fields were the sentinels gathered and witnessed your calling. Too late, too late…they cry into the night. The watchers have already seen you. You try to hold back the dam of emotion, but do you not know the wave has already crested?

The plugs that were needed to keep the dam strong have been deciphered and will not be used to save you…rather, they will be used to free the others who can no longer speak for themselves…the victim’s.

The bell has begun to toll.

 

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