Dimly, in the part of her mind that notices such things, Susan is grateful that she's seen Serenity and Las Vegas, London and Paris-- else she'd have been overwhelmed by the city of New York itself long before crossing through the portal, mayhap.
But oh, does it matter? Does it matter? It doesn't -- not here, not now, never in life. for the flowers are great blessings (come all ye come and hear) for the flowers have their angels even the words The lobby is full of light, pouring through the glass windows and across the rose-marble tile of the floor. Clinging to Cuthbert's hand, Susan moves slowly toward the Garden of the Beam and the Rose that is its heart for the flower glorifies - and the root parries the adversary (joy laughter life love peace every good thing) for there is a language of flowers and the sound of the singing choir exultant pours over her like a wave. hallelujah from the heart Susan smiles and then laughs, delighted and free and happy, oh, so happy.
Cuthbert barely even sees the city as they hurry through it. At any other time, he'd be drinking in every sensory detail of Eddie and Susannah and Jake's city that he could. Now, all his attention is bent on what they're hurrying towards.
(come)
Part of him wants to approach the little garden slowly, reverently. Part of him wants to break into a run. Part of him doesn't dare make a sound. Part of him wants to laugh out loud.
And when he reaches it, it's the laughter that wins. Because that's what the rose is--light and love and laughter and everything he's ever fought for or wished for.
He died for this, without knowing it. Now, having stood here in front of the rose, he'd do it again a hundred times over.
Only what the rose promises is that he won't have to, that he's done his part and he can rest now.
(all shall be well and all shall be well)
Standing in front of the Garden of the Beam, holding tight to Susan's hand, Cuthbert closes his eyes for a moment, and lets the peace of the rose wash over him.
Sheemie's eyes are alight with the feeling of it as he follows them, and his laughter rings out to join Susan's.
And the rose tells him that he was right. That the Beam was saved, and healed from what the Breakers did. And that the others recovered, in time, after Blue Heaven fell.
He stops laughing. He stands before the rose. And he smiles.
He thought he understood what the rose was. What it meant. Here is yes He knew, maybe, but he didn't understand. He knows that now. Here is you may It's a small square of black dirt, fenced off perfunctorily by velvet ropes, and a single rose growing straight towards the sky, and a single blossom, pink shading to deep rich crimson. Here is the good turn It's love, it's life, it's the White and the Eld and the nursery-kingdom of All-Aglow, it is the glowing gold nexus of everything in all the worlds and it's singing a low constant song that hums in his bones. It sings in his father's voice, his mother's, Roland's and Vannay's and Lilly's and Cort's and more and more, the voices of the loved and lost. the fortunate meeting And what it sings is the fever that broke just before dawn (yes) and left your blood calm is Here is the wish that came true (always) and the understanding eye is Here is the kindness you were given and thus learned to pass on (here there is peace) Here is the sanity and clarity you thought were lost is Here
( ... )
They'd gone round and round on it--he'd won her over in the end, but in her adolescence she'd had a brief religious period--and finally he admitted he believed in something.
Something that meant that most of the time things worked out okay. Something that kept planes in the sky (most of the time) and got the test results back negative (most of the time) and kept the world turning. Like a sound you couldn't hear, but felt; the subaudible hum of decency and hope.
When Jack Mort shoved her of the platfrom at the Christopher Street Station, Odetta (Susannah) Holmes had felt, briefly, the subaudible vibrations of the A-train coming through the rails, and thought, well, that's that.
Nothing stands between us and the predatory madmen of the world. The light at the end of the tunnel is an oncoming train.
Oh God all my life I have been blind.
It sings. It knows her name, all her names, and it loves.
Susannah Odetta Detta MiaHow could she have been afraid? How could she have tried to hide from perfect
( ... )
Comments 6
But oh, does it matter? Does it matter? It doesn't -- not here, not now, never in life.
for the flowers are great blessings
(come all ye come and hear)
for the flowers have their angels even the words
The lobby is full of light, pouring through the glass windows and across the rose-marble tile of the floor. Clinging to Cuthbert's hand, Susan moves slowly toward the Garden of the Beam and the Rose that is its heart
for the flower glorifies - and the root parries the adversary
(joy laughter life love peace every good thing)
for there is a language of flowers
and the sound of the singing choir exultant pours over her like a wave.
hallelujah from the heart
Susan smiles and then laughs, delighted and free and happy, oh, so happy.
Reply
(come)
Part of him wants to approach the little garden slowly, reverently. Part of him wants to break into a run. Part of him doesn't dare make a sound. Part of him wants to laugh out loud.
And when he reaches it, it's the laughter that wins. Because that's what the rose is--light and love and laughter and everything he's ever fought for or wished for.
He died for this, without knowing it. Now, having stood here in front of the rose, he'd do it again a hundred times over.
Only what the rose promises is that he won't have to, that he's done his part and he can rest now.
(all shall be well and all shall be well)
Standing in front of the Garden of the Beam, holding tight to Susan's hand, Cuthbert closes his eyes for a moment, and lets the peace of the rose wash over him.
(and all manner of ( ... )
Reply
And the rose tells him that he was right. That the Beam was saved, and healed from what the Breakers did. And that the others recovered, in time, after Blue Heaven fell.
He stops laughing. He stands before the rose. And he smiles.
Reply
Here is yes
He knew, maybe, but he didn't understand. He knows that now.
Here is you may
It's a small square of black dirt, fenced off perfunctorily by velvet ropes, and a single rose growing straight towards the sky, and a single blossom, pink shading to deep rich crimson.
Here is the good turn
It's love, it's life, it's the White and the Eld and the nursery-kingdom of All-Aglow, it is the glowing gold nexus of everything in all the worlds and it's singing a low constant song that hums in his bones. It sings in his father's voice, his mother's, Roland's and Vannay's and Lilly's and Cort's and more and more, the voices of the loved and lost.
the fortunate meeting
And what it sings is
the fever that broke just before dawn
(yes)
and left your blood calm
is
Here is the wish that came true
(always)
and the understanding eye
is
Here is the kindness you were given and thus learned to pass on
(here there is peace)
Here is the sanity and clarity you thought were lost
is
Here ( ... )
Reply
They'd gone round and round on it--he'd won her over in the end, but in her adolescence she'd had a brief religious period--and finally he admitted he believed in something.
Something that meant that most of the time things worked out okay. Something that kept planes in the sky (most of the time) and got the test results back negative (most of the time) and kept the world turning. Like a sound you couldn't hear, but felt; the subaudible hum of decency and hope.
When Jack Mort shoved her of the platfrom at the Christopher Street Station, Odetta (Susannah) Holmes had felt, briefly, the subaudible vibrations of the A-train coming through the rails, and thought, well, that's that.
Nothing stands between us and the predatory madmen of the world. The light at the end of the tunnel is an oncoming train.
Oh God all my life I have been blind.
It sings. It knows her name, all her names, and it loves.
Susannah Odetta Detta MiaHow could she have been afraid? How could she have tried to hide from perfect ( ... )
Reply
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