[Untitled — Continuation: The Voice of the Feast]

...raging; for none enter my house but the loving, the peaceable, and the good...

And when your lips repeat the hymn of the feast, I would have your hearts repeat the hymn of faith — the hymn of love and goodness and peace.

Do not dance on my feast to the moans of bereaved mothers and of the broken-hearted; dance rather, if you will, to the heavenly notes of the trumpet, which the souls of the innocent echo...

And do not be drunk on my feast with the wine of envy, of spite, and of mutual slaughter; be drunk rather, if you will, with the burning wine of love — that wine which God offers you with His hidden hand!

And do not glorify me in the crack of bullets and the roar of bombs — glorify me rather in the sound of the pickaxe, blessing the earth, your rich and generous sister...

And if one day you tear down your house, know that man has upon the earth but one house!.. And beware of entering my house after you have torn down your own houses, for I receive none but the builders... But if, on the day of my feast, you are hard at work building, without shelter, then I will receive you in my house, and I will say to you: Finish the building, for God abhors what is incomplete and loves what is perfect...

And then the pen stopped between my fingers... and would run no more...

And I returned to asking myself about the owner of the voice... Could it be, I wonder, the voice of the Lord of the Feast?!