The Golden Chalice of Choicefeatured

Looking at the golden filled chalice placed precariously on the table in front of her, she watched as the vibration from the ground made its contents ripple. The noises from the excavation echoed loudly in the distance outside. Around her, located in a dimly lit tomb and chamber from an ancient civilization, she marveled at the treasures she and her team had newly acquired. Her throat was swelling from the dryness of the desert air as she contemplated the choices that laid readily at her feet.

What comes first, the poison or the sin? A warmth that permeates through the veins within, slowing down the heart rate, while suffocating the lungs with fervent toxicity. Or the reality of breaking the unbreakable vow, willingly eradicating the presence of rhapsodic transformation with destructive deviance.

She wondered wildly as her green eyes traced the tattered wrapping, worn thin from time, as it intertwined and wrapped around the preserved thin body of its once human host. It was true that in ancient times, priests had participated and performed in the most sacred pieces of the preservation and mummification of the human body. Various stages of rituals, prayers, and dissection were delicately enunciated so the soul could transition over into the spiritual world. Only the heart, a once beating and forceful machine, was left inside the body believing to be the center of a person’s being and true intelligence.

By the looks of the religious texts placed inside the mummy’s sarcophagus it was obvious, whoever he was, he must have needed an abundance of prayer to carry him as he crossed over. Crouching down next to the sandy wood coffin and adjacent from the jars filled with his organs, she imagined who he had been in a less dried-out but recognizable human form.

Had he ever wondered through the streets of town, visiting the marketplace with his friends, seeking to buy tapestry and goods from the local town vendors? What would it have been like for him to rule over the land as pharaoh at such a young age? Did he even understand the implications of his actions and what he had inflicted upon others? How many of the wives in which he married, who resided in the palace with him, had he actually had feelings for and truly loved?

“What if that’s the esoteric truth we all fail to see?” she asked abruptly.

“Did you say something, Emily?” asked her colleague who was standing from across the tomb.

“What if there’s something that we’re missing as a part of the human experience that we’re failing to see here? A reality where we forcibly swallow tiny bits of the poison that’s passed down to us from all around. It creeps in from the shadows of ill intent and the words we hear or see that escape from the lips of our treasured confidants. Our beings accepting the gift extended only to us by the patient hand of our most silent killers.

However, on the other hand, let’s say we instead choose to assimilate the corruption from the devastation of our sins, which maniacally twist us into its submissive servant until they take us down with them. Faltering upon brimstone from the uphill battle to pull ourselves out of our destructive ways.”

“This again? Emmie, I think you need to quit doing so much late night reading about the sacred texts.” Replied her male colleague, John, as he smiled from across the room.

“I just wonder if we’re really seeing life for what it is or what we want to see it as within our societal norms. I want to have the choice to choose my eternal damnation instead of life choosing it for me.” She whispered to herself.

Looking around at the ceiling of the chamber, as the noises outside grew louder, she realized that the choice to choose had always been within her grasp. The option to ingest either the idealism of individual perception or the callousness of human behavior.

A choice that is given to us all.

With Light, Love, & the Choice to Choose,
– H ✌