A Meditation for Internet Trolls
Late at night, when the silence holds no promise, the troll faces the darkness just like everybody must at some point. He is danger itself! He is the arbiter at the door unto the void, and will wreak heartless tragedy upon those who despise him!
He waits beneath the bridge, to derail some passing family late in traveling, vulnerable, far from home. He is bitter acid in the clouds, razors in the jaw, broken glass and twisted metal. A vehicle approaches the crossing: inside the car sits father and mother in front, while in the back seat are children sleeping, huddled like small bears.
The air is chill outside. Father rubs his eyes, mother taps her fingernails against the glass of her window as they pass empty fields laying barren in winter. They approach the bridge in silence. The troll will destroy all who dares to pass, and seeks to strike but no, beneath the bridge he cannot join them, cannot reach them, cannot be them, is roughly torn apart in the despair of banishment. Is there something deep and abiding in that car, something dull and average, something profound.
The nameless family passes over the bridge and is gone--the troll cries "wait, wait" but it is of no use, the father and mother and children cannot hear the horrible moaning from beneath the asphalt road. Bitterness is the passing of love beyond our reach.
The troll turns away, and seeks the darkness for his shroud.
Amen.
Comments