A Prose With No Direction

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Complimenting and contradicting. 

There are always white and black marbles in the bag. 

White.

Black.

White.

Black.

Then suddenly, a colored one enters the mix.

Just one.

One multi-colored one.

It stands out immediately in the bag against the fairness of the white marbles and the darkness of the black ones. 

It's different.

Something white and black is not used to.

They're not used to seeing color.

They're not used to seeing vibrance.

They're not used to seeing rainbows.

They're not used to seeing differences.

Overtime, though, the bag became more diverse in color. Red, pink, blue, purple all inhabit the bag amongst their fellow white and black brothers. 

However, the multi-colored ones remained only one.

Even with the diversity and vibrance of the new colors, the black, the white, the purple, the blue, and all the rest that inhabit the bag, they were still not accustomed to a marble whose colors were mixed. Yes, there were marbles that boasted two or three colors, but never a marble with seven.

No.

It was different.

The multi-colored one, I mean.

Yet, though the others looked at it as if it were a foreigner in their presence, that same multi-colored marble has been with the white and blacks since the very beginning. 

So, who are they to judge someone who came before them?

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Sometimes religion is complimenting and contradicting.

Sometimes it's hard for me to understand what truly will get me out of my predestined place in hell.

Sometimes it's hard for me to decide whether to take pleasure in my sins.

I sometimes think about that multi-colored marble whose appearance, feelings, and thoughts are all exposed to the owner of the bag. I know the white and black marbles say that the owner looks down on the seven-colored marble since its thoughts are the thoughts of sin and evil.

Since the seven-colored marble enjoys the intimate touch of its fellow kind.

Though the white and black marbles say that, both they and the owner preach about the acceptance of others, no matter their color, their heritage, or their identity. They even preach that only the owner can ultimately judge them!

So, why do they treat the seven-colored marble as a sin?

Why a sin when we are even told to treat them as our brothers and sisters and a blessing from the owner?

The whites and blacks preach that the owner creates each marbles in his own image and likeness.

Yet, why would the owner create a marble that he and his followers preach as a sin?

Complimenting and contradicting.

Complimenting creates peace.

Contradicting creates diversity.

The two together create confusion.

When it is my time to face the owner of my bag, whether it will be when he curses me to the trash or when he miraculously tucks me in into his pocket, I'll ask the question.

Why even create us?

With an answer, I'll finally rest in peace.