blasphemous if I am to prove I was not. He denies the god, I do not. Both are equal if in error, that is to believe in nothing or to have nothing to believe in.
From this we see the nothings cancel like a mathematical riddle. And we are left with belief. Do we believe or not? This becomes the dividing line of men. Not what they see but what they believe they see. Nothing or Faith. If we believe the vision of faith obscured or misguided, we merely adjust the helm and continue the journey. But Nothing is blind, a lost vessel, it is the way of broken drift.
Such the danger is the great smash of blasphemy. That we prove a man utterly blind in his lack of believe. And leave him wrecked, marooned to his despair. Few men have the courage to set sail again when horizons widen to dawn.
We are in a damnable place, Mr. Prosecutor. The innocence of my heart manacled to your spiritual eyes. Shall I free the first to the hills and thereby wrench for all time visions from your spirit? No jail or death is of little discomfort to a Beggar but what agonies a blind Prosecutor? He could not glean the light of justice or shadow of false but must grope his balance. No that deed done would imprison my heart deadly. We must together find a key, Mr. Prosecutor, that both can be right, both can be wrong and neither blasphemous. Is this not the way of most men? Doubt with hope; question with opinion?
We have merely to prove that the God wasn't there and was there. Thus ends blasphemy.
As to the question of fraud, if a thing is a god and sold as a god, where is the fraud? If I prove to you that it is a god but only to those of vision to believe, should I be tried for another's lack of vision? These are no verbal tumblings or wit of tricks but rather again probes, stirrings into the mysterious mires of what men believe.
Had I said a stool was a chair and sold chairs would I be called fraud? Or a clever thief of business? Would not others of business applaud my subtle trade and cry the sourest grapes against any fools who complain of cheat? I called a stool a chair; their eyes conspired the same. And their small hearts glee to receive a chair at a stool's price.
But all say this godly barter is a different thing and I agree. In religious things the worth must excel the cost. For some things, like beliefs, are priceless. I sold only the tools; instructed only the reflection. The believer must build; the believer must see.
I promised a God; I could not promise Belief, I delivered a God; I could not deliver Faith.
If I prove the god is there, I prove the fraud is not and thereby my innocence."
`And there ended the speech for the Defence.
For the next couple of hours, a long tedious line of witnesses were called for the Prosecution. God merchants, buyers assorted of the merchants and of the beggar. Also the tall man, the beggar had discourse with in the market the previous day. The short man was not called. Tedious it was in its long tale of the Destroyer of the World.
And oddly enough the Defence deferred to cross-examine or even object as the points of accusation grew less exact and more broad. As if each succession of witness must out do the previous testimony of wrong and woe. A mockery of who could gather the largest faggot and drop it at the beggar's feet. Who could mold the largest stone and cast its deadly form.
By ignoring this frenzy; this mobbish report, the Defence in fact brought much credibility to its own case. Like a man who ignores the snarl of alley curs, we see the master by his unaltered stride. Their barks had no bite as all now had shed the teeth of truth. Lost; imbedded worrying at the bars of restraint.
The brush and paint of these lies began to be thrown so careless that the rain of point covered more the stand of the prosecution than the wall of defence. The Pointer of Prosecution began almost the duties of Defence, questioning, cajoling, even demanding to steer the witness back to some course of truth. But for most this was too minor a call; their duty extended to the creative.
Some claimed to have had horrible visions and dreams the night after viewing the mirror.
One woman claimed (in sign language) to have become mute.
Another man vemently claimed in tears that his youngest boy had walked to the mirror as it leaned in a corner. He had stepped into it and fallen to some unreachable hellish world and was lost forever.
Or another that the sound of church bells and devil screams came out from his mirror.
Another woman claimed a hand had come from her mirror and gripped her by the breast till she was faint with pain. Then someone had chopped her loose. The cut away limb had fallen to the ground and transformed to a rat. And scurried away. For modesty's sake she could not show the court the scars of this horrible attack but was willing to procure a surgeon's note if desired.
Finally the prosecution ceased to call more of these witnesses of grander things. Though there were three or four more left. They sat with faces pained of their disappointment for they had tales to top them all. But the Prosecution knew the Judge had heard enough of this incredibility and more would undoubtably tip the favour to a slandered Defence. Best to hold a pace neck to neck. Too much lather and foam at halfway can cost a leg before the line. Stall the hammer and build and give the Defence time to weave its own bit of rope.
So the Point of Prosecution was done and declared his rest. But his rest was to lie short lived.
The Clerk rose and asked "Does the defence wish to call any witnesses?
To this request the young Beggar replied "Yes I wish to call to the stand the honourable Point of Prosecution".
Murmurs rippled through the Court as the Prosecutor jumped to his feet and stammered "I...I object your Honour. Never before, never in any case I've been party to or heard tell of has the Prosecution testified. A witness is called such as he or she who gives witness. To give witness is to have seen or have an opinion of. This suggests, in fact demands partiality. Whereas to be the Prosecution is to be impartial to the trial before and after. To have no bias from scenes witnessed before and to have no stake of personal gain or loss in the hereafter. I cannot be both partial and impartial; cannot be both witness and prosecution. There are lines in a Court that restricts the movement of the players. Including you, your Honour. Without these lines the fine balance of aloofness is temporized. Tamper thus and springs may be sprung. The march of justice in time stalled to its natural revolutions. The result an adjustment faulty and irrecoverable. The whole mess gone to the bin. The case is not won or lost but simply broken. Do not heed yonder budding oracle's bid for drama and play. Let him, as he chooses his own Defence, stay within the normal, lawful rules of Defence of the Court.
I am sure that given enough time and enough proverbial metaphors, our acrobatic dustbin here could prove the end of the earth lies three feet behind my backside (again courtly chuckles and nods of agree) but will any of these charades make him more or less innocent? Though it by chance shows the wondrous sly and cunning of his deceit.
No your Honour, let him take up his defence according to the rules of our Court, not his court. His ways are on trial not ours.
To this the Judge stated: I understand your misgivings, Pointer and I must say that I too am reluctant to allow such a radical turning of our normal course. Before I rule, however, I would ask the prisoner to state why he wishes to hear witnesses from the Prosecution.
The young beggar replied: My case, your Honour and good Prosecution is to play no new novel trick or heap embarrassment upon my sole witness. It is in fact the deadly seriousness of my accused soul that gives me ask this unusual bequeath. My case hinges upon a pair. A pair of facts as these: one, are God and man at a likeness? and two, did I sell a God?
The Prosecution must prove, has in fact proven in the liberality of their facts my impending guilt. In this fair court, innocence is upheld prior to verdict. I cannot prove my innocence, that is to say, I cannot prove what all already know me to be. Innocent. Innocence defined as 'not to know' I cannot prove what I do not know. But I can prove I am not guilty? Not quilty as defines as 'to know; then to weigh; then to judge; then to act', knowledge giving right action mark a man not gu
ilty. Many innocent men have been condemned unknowingly by the point, the gesture, of guilty. Never is a man who is not guilty treated as such.
So I cannot idle in my screen, my cage of innocence and await verdicts. I must act to show my guiltless knowledge of my acts. And is this not a crime of concepts, this blasmephy? This fraud, a crime of faith, of vision? Crimes against the mind. And where lies this mind I have unjustly (or so accused) puzzled? In the head of those who prosecute me. And their Head is the Pointer of Prosecution.
I could assail the whole body limb by limb, toe by finger. A tedium of trial.
In concepts, in Truths, is it not better to persuade the head, the mind, of all that is man. If the head knows, cannot we assume the limbs will heed also. Guide the mind, will the body have no choice but follow? When the mind opens to truth's fragrance, will not the limbs ungather their angry folds and give embrace?
For these reasons I ask to show my guiltless path to the Head, the Pointer of Prosecution. Through my questions and his knowledge, his witness, we will journey to the truth of my verdict.
Judge: I perceive what you wish to now gleen, young man. I, myself, however, have grave doubts that all bodies follow the sceptre of their lofty minds. Or perchance it is the minds which fall slumber from un-use and get