Tonight the light decided to die. The city that never sleeps was plunged into a rumbling slumber. The darkness embarked on a journey to mark every corner. Within the temple, Father Ren read signs and symbols. As a child, he believed because his parents said so. 

"The almighty can hide in plain sight and fight against the dark of limbo," he said to himself. He knew that something was awry in the city, tension was bubbling beneath the surface. People were pissed with the pandemic, politics and pews. 

"Father, bad news, I'm afraid"

"Yes?" 

"Mrs Kelly has passed" 

"Oh, dear. God rest her soul" 

"She left something for you"

"For me?" said Father Ren, looking as if he had to make his next move in a game of chess. 

"A letter"

Father Ren's eyes darted across the jumbled alphabet. 

"She wants me to...to take her coin collection"

"What an unusual request"

"Indeed," said Father Ren. 

Father Ren's mind moved like a drunk man heading home. He knew where he had to go but had trouble getting there.

"Why did she want me to bring her coins?"

"I haven't spoken to her in years" 

"She has a large family" 

"I can't go over there and tell them what she has said in her letter"

He knew his thoughts were redundant but he entertained them anyway. The following day, he ventured to the family home and felt something odd in his bones. Even though Mrs Kelly's family were going through the ritual of removal and funeral, there was a weird undercurrent hiding in the room. It felt like a house of mirrors. 

Fr. Ren's spiritual training allowed him to be sensitive to imperceptible energies within people. He could see their aura's and pick up on their unconscious motivations. He had spent many years as a hermit and monk in the wilderness, examining and analyzing his mind. He had to understand its cracks, crevices, patterns, images, dreams and narratives. He prayed for discernment and practised detachment. Negating the physical world did not mean an automatic gain in spiritual insight. The ascetics of history can attest to that. It simply showed that you prioritise God above all else. Understanding your mind leads to an opening of the heart, which is the true key to the spiritual realm.  

People believe they are what they think and fall in love with the creations of their mind. Their identities, their narratives, their self-image, their palace of self-delusion and self-aggrandizement. The spiritual path knocks down the palace to replace the arrogance of mind with humility of heart. 

Most on the spiritual path are fearful of rejection, mockery, isolation or madness. All of which is possible if you take a wrong turn on the invisible road. Fr. Ren lived on the brink of the abyss numerous times. 

The trumpets will play and arms will be raised when the inner transformation liberates the chains. Bathed in the glory of angles, able to see the souls of strangers, emotions are high, living inside, grace is the story, a decision based on a divine message, something deep within that you know without words. Words are our usual mechanism of explanation and justification, they occur after the fact. We paint stories to justify our actions. 

Other times, information is given before the fact. Prophecy, imagery, a grenade of epiphany, a voice that doesn't speak. 

It was a wordless intimation that let the priest know something was awry. And the cryptic letter about the coins became a bit clearer. She was trying to communicate something before she died. But what? 

Images danced in his mind, all competing for his attention as if he was a judge on a TV talent show. One was of a knight on horseback, holding a bag of gold coins and a tree growing out of his helmet. The other was a child with a horses face, holding a red flag in his left hand and a sunflower in the other. Fr. Ren went through the normal process of discerning these images. He always felt that his waking life was more populated with dreams than his nightlife. 

Both had a horse in them and both people were holding something in their hands. The difference was in the maturity of the individuals and their stage of development. 

The horse is a domesticated animal, used for transport and battle. It is a slave to humans. 

The child represents innocence as it plays in the sun. 

The knight is making an offer with his gold coins. 

"Mrs Kelly was a slave to somebody in her family and is innocent in this scenario." was his first thought.

"She offered me the coins to protect them from a young man" was his second. 

"But who?" 

Fr. Ren spread the Word of God while searching for clues in people's personalities. Famous paintings on the walls provided the perfect ploy. Pretend to enjoy the paintbrush strokes and ask folks what they know. A scheming priest looking for a thief, all in service of the greater good. 

Immediately, in disbelief, he seemed to glean the answer from the scene. He could see him in between people, the winged serpent was inked on his skin. A lithe figure with rotting teeth and cigarette butts beneath his feet. 

Fr. Ren had to be subtle in this situation. To bridge the gap required self-control, a misstep now and he may never know. Eye contact was a no go. But how to approach? A helping hand from a friendly relative was his safest bet. 

Fr Ren scanned the room to see who would be most suitable to introduce him to the culprit. He turned to make his way to the woman in the purple patterned dress. As he moved between family members, he heard a voice call him. 

"Father, how are you doing? I haven't seen you for years"

Fr. looked around to see the toothless man with his arms wide open and a holy smile on his face. 

"What's wrong Father? Do you not remember me?"