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Triadic Tales - The Conversation - Short Story (Part Three)

Triadic Tales - The Conversation - Short Story (Part Three) 

The next day Adam hesitated to go out. Something told him he might face something that he was not ready for. He knew all the lingo of the religion he rejected. About how fearsome it was to fall into the hands of the living God. Adam had no fear but one.- the possibility that he would find he was talking to himself. 

An inner sense of dissolution, like being the bank of a river, subject to being lopped off in chunks to dissolve in the current or, if the flow was warm and languid, to be slowly moved by a hesitant gravity to the bottom.

But finally he willed himself standing and pulled on the things he would need against the March cold. 
These days when he went out he often repeated his mindfulness mantra:

Gently moving forward. 

It steadied him. Sometimes it carried him all the way to the street and out to Broadway where he would begin his half hour of communion with Abba.

The most powerful four lines of the twelve he had fashioned into the melody that played in his head were the middle ones:

Give us this day our daily bread
 Forgive the wrongs that we have done
As we forgive those who do wrong
Lead us not into temptation

It was that act of forgiveness to all who do wrong that fastened Adam irrevocably to the very truth more denied than any other in the shattered culture where he lived.  It was not just the truth of forgiveness as the center of a viable philosophy of life. It was the reciprocal thing. The communal thing. The absolute and universal thing. This was the key to unlocking the freedom at the very center of each human being. 

We are forgiven only as we forgive, not just those whose memories hound us, not just those we know, but every  soul on the planet. We sit loose every day to everyone. We cut slack beyond belief or comprehension to every being on the planet.

Adam got lost in these thoughts. He was composing an essay in his head. The time went on. He repeated the whole prayer three times but he did not talk to Abba. The conversation did not take place today. 

But Adam knew that the conversation was secure. It wouldn't end. He wouldn't stop until he could take no more steps. 

He had never been one for broadcasting what was happening inside him. But some how, some way, he felt compelled to speak. He had given his days to an exploration and it had led here, to this simple daily round, a round any human being could do, simply walking and musing, reciting a prayer which, 

Adam believed, held every truth within it.

The conversation was secure. 

But the sharing of its power had hardly begun.  
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