The statue was large. It was fine. It was expensive. It was a reminder to all future generations on how the great god Shakur had endured much trials and tribulations in his lifetime, and a warning to them to never allow one of the gods to undergo such trials again.
The statue was made of platinum, all platinum, and it was carved very precisely, very intricately. You could see each hair on the god's leg, you could see each vein snaking its way across the god's arms. You could see the weaving of the blanket that the god had on top of him. You could see the fraying bits of the ragged hat that he wore. You could see the chips in his teeth. You could see the slight, unnatural twisting of one of its ankles. Despite all the ugly details, nothing on the statue was ugly. It was all so intricately, so finely detailed and decorated that each blemish, each imperfection on the god's body and clothing looked marvellous, looked artistic, looked far better than the bodies and clothing of actual beggars in real life.
For in this statue, the great god Shakur was a beggar. He was a beggar who was sitting by the side of a building, who was exhausted, who was curled in on himself, who was clothed in ratty garments which did not cover him adequately from the coldness of the air all around him. He had a begging bowl in his hand, and he was reaching his hand up in the direction of the people, eyes wide and full of sadness, full of need.
The people all around him, in the shining, pristine green park where this grand statue was displayed, were loading the platinum, carved begging bowl with all the treasures that they had. They were putting in gold coins, old, collectors edition coins that were passed down through the family. They were putting in expensive rings made of precious jewels. Sapphire, emerald, topaz, ruby, diamond, rose diamond, the list goes on. They were putting in earrings, bracelets, chains. They placed thousand dollar bills in the cup of platinum. And they placed in mobile phones, computer watches, wireless earbuds.
They needed the great god Shakur to know that they were on his side now, that they would take care of him now. They wanted him to know that they were not abandoning him, that they would give him much, that they would give him all that they had, the most precious possessions that they owned. For they deeply honoured the great god Shakur. And they deeply wanted him to know that they honoured him, they worshipped him, they respected him.
The people were all gathered together in a large park. And the park was pristine, filled with rolling green hills and rose bushes and flowers of all kinds. There were tall, towering, genetically-modified trees casting shade on the people and shielding them from the hot sun. There were other statues in the park, depicting many scenes of the great drama of the gods. They were all made of precious metals and they all shone in the sun. There were bubbling fountains and artificial streams.
The people were content, at peace, talking about all the different bits of their lives to all the people that they came across. They were sipping on drinks that they bought, drinks that were bought for large amounts of money at the travelling bar that had popped up in the park to commemorate the unveiling of the new statue. They were munching on snacks, both sweet and savoury, bought from the same bar, which also sold food. Like the drinks, the snacks were very expensive.
The people were all adorned richly, in celebration of this new event, in celebration of the statue that had just been unveiled in front of their eyes.
The girls were wearing dresses made of the most fine, most expensive fabrics. They were wearing large dresses, with layers upon layers upon layers of fabric. It was a hot day, far too hot to be wearing such many-layered clothing, but they were kept cool with personal cooling systems under their skirts. They were adorned with jewellery made of fine metals, gold and silver and rose gold and bronze and platinum. They had large, colourful earrings that took many, many months for the workers to make and they had many patterns of makeup on their heavily made-up faces. Their hair was tied back with colourful silk ribbons. And they had large, patterned, fake nails on their hands.
The men were wearing expensive jackets made of fine fabric, studded with diamonds and other precious stones of all kinds, in intricate, colourful patterns. They had the patterns of flames, the patterns of animals, the patterns of all sorts of things. They had pants that were made of similarly expensive fabric, fine and embroidered with many designs. They wore belts studded everywhere with precious gems. And many of them had golden or silver chains around their necks.
The people were brightly adorned. But the person who was even more brightly adorned was the master of ceremonies, a middle-aged man who was decorated from head to toe in expensive, intricate clothing that definitely took years, if not decades, to make. He did not even look human, as adorned as he was by colours and patterns and fabric and jewellery and ivory twisting every which way. His silhouette was more like the shillouette of a strange and nonexistent bird of paradise than it was the silhouette of a human man. And he carried himself accordingly, carried himself as if he was something more than natural, more than magical, even. Though nature of course, is magical.
The master of ceremonies went out to all the of the people, and he chatted with them. He talked to them as if he was talking to friends. And they talked to him as if they were talking to gods. To them, the master of ceremonies in his highly elaborate getup was as close to a god as they would ever see in their lifetimes. To them, all gods were dressed in finery from head to toe, were dressed in shapes and patterns and colours that were overwhelming. To them, all gods were made of gold and silver and bronze and platinum, were statues they could worship at the feet of.
And worship, they did. Many people bowed down in front of the statue of Shakur. They bent their heads low, looking at the ground at his lifeless feet, looking at the begging bowl. And they prayed words of great praise to the impassionate ears of the god. They chanted him incantations and sang him songs. They worshipped reverently, worshipped furiously, and they made a great show to all the others about how much they were worshipping, how deeply they were worshipping.
One girl took a grand, fine blanket made of the lightest, softest of silks. It was a light thing. A thing that could in no way protect against the harshness of the weather all around, not that there was anything that anyone needed to be kept warm from on this sweltering hot day anyways. Still, people saw what this girl did and they went immediately to their cars to get out all the fine, luxurious blankets that they could find. Soon enough, the statue was covered on all fronts by many blankets. The people looked at this and they thought that the prettiness of the statue was now covered, so they took the blankets off of the unmoving form and they arranged them in a large circle around the statue.
Someone moved towards the statue, stepping around the thin blankets, and they placed a flower at the statue's feet. It was a large, bright, freshly-cut tulip, one that beyond doubt cost many units of currency at the flower store. The people surrounding the statue saw this and once again thought it was a good idea, and many of them drove off in their large cars and returned with dozens of bouquets of flowers of all kinds, which they layed at the feet of the unseeing great god.
You see, it was a competition for the people. A competition to see who could do the most good. A competition to see who could give the greatest honour to the statue. They needed to show their devotion. For, with enough devotion, they could ascend to heaven when they died, and they could see the gods in person. They could receive high honours and their souls would be immortalized forever, to watch upon the humans as they went about their lives.
What the people did not know was that they saw gods, here on this earth, many times. They saw gods and they walked away.
The master of ceremonies looked upon all the gifts and offerings people had lain at the feet of the statue. Looked at all the flowers and the blankets and the money and the jewels placed upon the blankets. He saw all this and he realized that it was time. It was time to call the ceremony to order.
He stood up beside the statue. And he called all the people to gather around him, using his microphone to project his voice.
"My people!" he declared.
"All hail!" they cried out in return.
"We are gathered here today!" the man exclaimed, "to honour the great god Shakur and all the sacrifices he has made so that our souls may find salvation in worshipping him!"
"All hail!"
"Now, the great god Shakur," the master of ceremonies continued, "was in the world of the heavens. There he saw all the people struggling and suffering in their lives. He knew that they were struggling and suffering because the people in the world did not pay adequate worship and homage to Shakur and all of his family and friends. So he devised a plan, to make the people see his greatness.
"He came down to the earth, in the form of a small baby. The baby had Saint Abatha as a mother, and Saint Augustin as a father. And the parents loved the baby a dear amount. For these were the parents who were chosen by the great god Shakur himself to be his parents and protect him in this world. This couple had never had any children before, and they treasured him greatly.
"Unfortunately, tragedy struck. When the child god was four years old, the parents of the god died. They were poor, and they had gotten a deep sort of sickness, and they could not afford to see the doctor for their illness. This troubled the great god Shakur greatly, and gave him unimaginable, unendurable grief. This tragic event left the great god Shakur as a young orphan.
"The orphan, still grieving his parents' passing, was taken to an orphanage. There he was mistreated by the keepers who ran the orphanage. He did not get good meals, and the meals were not nutritious. He was screamed at by the adults that ran the orphanage, and he got beaten by them. He often received punishments for very minor infractions, such as talking when he was supposed to be silent. And he was made to do much long, hard labour for the orphanage.
"Eventually, when he was thirteen, he found a way to escape the orphanage, thank the heavens. He was able to break the lock that held the bolts over the windows. And he was able to slip through. Unfortunately, he twisted his ankle as he jumped from the window. In pain, and not able to walk properly, he limped away from the orphanage as fast as he could.
"He was lost in the city, with no-one to turn to and nowhere to go. Since his ankle was twisted, he asked everyone he encountered if they could take him to a doctor. But, he had no money, and so thus they showed no kindness to him and they did not take him to any doctor. Since the great god Shakur could not see a doctor about his twisted ankle, it healed wrong and left him with a limp.
"Since he has a limp, he could not find a job. For all the jobs that were for men required him to walk at least some of the time. And, he had no education, so he could not take a job that required him to read and write papers. The great god Shakur desperately tried to get a job but none were available to him.
"And so he begged. He held his begging bowl and he begged to all the wealthy passers by, asking them if they could spare him any coins. Some people spared him a few coins, but most of them did not, leaving the great god Shakur very hungry and sickly. He was cold in the winters and hot in the summers. And he was very miserable indeed.
"But he was a god. And, as a god, he had his godly voice with which he could impart godly truths to all the people. One day he used his great, booming godly voice to address the people. He stood up, unsteady on his legs on account of the twisted ankle. And he addressed the people, who all gathered around to hear him.
"He told them that they had failed their test. They had not shown him kindness when he had come down to live amongst them. And as a result of their failure, their failure to be hospitable to him, their society would be cursed for many generations to come.
"The people realized that he was a god. They begged and pleaded to be spared. And the great god Shakur, in all of his never ending mercy, told them that they could repent. He told them that they could be spared, and their society could be spared, if they never again treated any god with the harsh treatment that they had treated the great god Shakur with. And the people heard this. And they promised him.
"And so the great god Shakur ascended to Heaven, and there he is to this day, watching over us."
"All hail!" the people cried.
"All hail!" the master of ceremonies answered. "I see that you have all given the great god Shakur many offerings. I commend you! You have shown him that our people will no longer mistreat and neglect the gods. You have shown him that our people will from now on show the gods the greatest respect. All hail!"
"All hail!"
"We must now give all the offerings to the great god Shakur," the master of ceremonies continued, "by dropping our offerings in the Sacred Lake, the bottom of which is a portal to the gods. You will now follow me! After you have gathered all your offerings!"
So the people all took their many blankets, their many bouquets of flowers, their jewelry and jewels and coins and cash, their many electronics, and they held them in crystal boxes. They marched in a joyous and confident procession to the large, unfathomably deep lake, and they stepped upon the wide, marble bridge that crossed over that lake. From the middle of the bridge, they spilled the contents of their crystal boxes out into the lake, all the wealth vanishing forever into the deep lake bottom.
They then all walked back to the entrance of the park, to the large metal gates that kept out of the park all the people who slept on the streets. They got ready to exit the park, in a long line just as they had entered.
At the mouth of the gates, just outside the park, there was a line of beggars, each holding out a begging bowl to the richly-clad procession. There were a few men, a few women, a person who was both, a person who was in between, a person who was not either. There were a couple of teenagers. They all held deep sorrow in their eyes as they begged the finely-dressed line of people if they could spare some coins.
Most people did not give the beggars any money, though there were some people that gave them some low-value coins that were not worth much.
What the comfortable people did not know was that these beggars were all Shakur. They were all Shakur and they were all themselves, all at the same time. For Shakur is in each and every person who comes to us, asking for our help. Shakur is in every single person who does not have what they need or is abused. Shakur loves the poor, and Shakur is within each and every member of the poor, of the mistreated, of the abused And the promise is broken.
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