The Miracle (part 1)

I was there, lying like a cowly-cadaveric, childly-crying, riverly-bleeding, mcdonaldly-starving, derelicted-person, wishing my death right there, waiting for the worms to eat my sore body, to erase my flesh from this cruel planet, expecting the time of my dead, the finish of my negligent existence. I was hopeless, lamenting the day I was born, the creepy birthdays I had, the awful cakes I ate.

Then I saw HIM just passing by on his immature-look-a-like mule. I saw his light, indeed. I saw all the shining bright of his presence. He was the sácerdot, and I didn´t had to ask if he was HE. His astouning, limbo-dancer, souvenir-giver, gorgeous-pumping presence said it all.

My outstanding pain caused me nauseas, but when he came closer all the dólor was gone, and the hunger I felt was satisfied right there. I didn´t knew I was that blind, I couldn´t see anythig. But all the nosense started to be yessense. Everything started to be enlighted. A milky-shiny-white light encandiled everything that surrounded him (me, for example).

Suddenly he started walking to my poor, móribund presence. He didn´t say anything. Just touch my bland-warm-leacky-crunchy lastímadure with his incredibly bone-meat-skin-ingrediented, round-shaped, perfectly-fit finger. And I heal immediately from all my diseases.

I don´t have the words to describe what has just happened there. It was a miracle. A sácerdot miracle.