The boy stood by the pedestal that read, “here lies Goddess Mara. Peace be upon the weary soul.” Flowers laid close by to the site. Red and mired, the old Red Carnation had stood on that marble for quite awhile. In the boy’s hands were a new beautiful pair of blue forget-me-nots. Every month this boy would come to the pedestal, praising Mara and wishing a new kindness to give to the world. His gift for Mara in exchange, flowers – representing the gift we wished for the world to receive. He would not stand idly by waiting for Mara to enact her end. He knew that the gift must start with him; that he must start the chain so Mara could give.
The boy was always teased by others for his beliefs. Many found the qualities of Mara were apparent; she wasn’t real. Mara was a prophet long ago. She loved every man and woman and treated each as equal in a time when prophets wanted a barge in equality. What wasn’t real about her was her. There was no proof of existence. No book or scholar told of her. The only thing that was proof of her was her headstone. This would not stop the boy however. He would love as she loved – treat others how she treated others.
The boy gave the flowers to the angel and felt the calm he wanted. He sat down by the mark and touched it solemnly. His fingers ran across the etchings of “her- lies, Godd-ss M-r-.”. He graced the marble till he pulled his hand back, smiling with his content and her love. He wished he could meet the goddess – hear her words as she praised the young boy for following her passion – scolding him for not finding his own.
He would love to know who Mara was; who she appeared as or how she acted; how would she breathe in a quiet room; how would she breathe in a loud room. He wanted to know her love; what it felt like – what it was to others. In a way, he knew already; for he portrayed her love.
He donated to charity. He worked at the local soup kitchen for free. He would try to be kind to all the love in the world and try to be even kinder to all the hate in the world. In the vast experience of the world that was – it was him who hollowed his world to be kind, not the other way around.
He sat there at the end, staring up into the sky. The world was apparent to him; it hated him. He would not hate however; for it was Mara who would not hate.
