Trial of Red and White Fire
Centuries ago
In ancient Hermopolis
A debate roared loud
Between a proud Christian priest
And a strange shepherd
Who was a Manichaean
Wearing ragged clothes
And who was looking for sheep
“Flames will consume you”
The priest roared at the shepherd
Because their debate
Was going on for eons
The shepherd spoke forth
“The white flames of the Spirit
That the moon shines with
Or the flames of your anger”
The priest responded
“You will see the flames you fear
Light a huge fire
In the square of this city
To be the challenge
To see which faith is the truth
With heads held up high
We will both enter the flames
Do you understand”
The Manichaean nodded
With serenity
He requested firewood
From the watching crowd
Who complied with eagerness
To see the truth shine
The shepherd set us the pile
And prayed to the wood
“Forgive me for any pain
And may you be saved
To be a revelation
To be salvation
To your brethren now watching”
From these gentle words
He set all the wood ablaze
While shedding a tear
The calm Manichaean said
“We should both with faith
Enter the flames by himself
To unveil the truth
Since you asked for this trial
You shall be the first
To taste the flames you produced”
The priest's red face scowled
As he looked towards the flames
He did a short bow
And did the sign of the cross
He walked to the flames
And stood right in the centre
The flames split apart
And it appeared that no harm
Came to his body
In the half an hour spent
The crowds greatly cheered
Believing no miracle
Could outshine that one
“Shepherd and Manichaean
Fall into the flames
You will be consumed fully
To rise or be burnt”
The priest shouted loud with zeal
“That vile deceiver
Should rightly be burnt alive
In Gehenna’s flames”
The crowd shouted with anger
Already prepared
The Manichaean walked in
Whispering four words
“God, light, power and wisdom”
The flames turned pure white
Like the full moon’s light at night
As he stood in them
The flames at his left and right
Became two tall men
The man on the right wore white
He shined with splendour
He held a styrax wood staff
In his bright right hand
And held a book of silver
In his bare left hand
Next, the man on the left side
Wore Persian-style clothes
Robes made of vivid colours
Of woven rainbows
He gave a comforting smile
That could make rain stop
He also wore seven rings
That he made himself
With his delicate fingers
Both sages whispered
To the Manichaean’s ears
Words for the elect
When their mouths became silent
They vanished in flames
While the man remained in peace
With both his eyes closed
The flames became a lotus
Shining and open
Because of the flamers brightness
The ground appeared dark
Like a vast ocean at night
Not even the sun
Could outshine the white lotus
The holy man stood
With his clothes under his feet
With flames clothing him
Like fig leaves made of moonlight
Then with his right hand
He reached out with gentleness
To the audience
Afraid but also amazed
Some walked towards him
Most stopped out of human fear
But one continued
And touched the welcoming hand
The flames fizzled out
For they all served their purpose
To the observers
Their world now appeared pure black
They thought they were blind
For the flames shone so brightly
All else appeared dark
But this blindness soon vanished
And they all bowed down
Bowed down to the holy man
Their bent legs shaking
Their faces touching the ground
With warmth the man said
“Please do not bow down to me
But with open hearts
Bow down to the sun setting
To the moon rising
For they glimmer with the light
That inflamed your hearts”
So they bowed down to the discs
All except the priest
Who did not bow to the man
At first he was moot
Dumbfounded and in despair
But fury arose
And he said without thinking
“Demon! Sorcerer!
Your trickery is nothing
Demon, look at me
The fire did not harm me
I’ve done the challenge!”
The Manichaean just said
“Give me your left arm”
In pride, the priest gave his arm
The Manichaean
Put up the sleeve of the priest
And unveiled burn marks
Marks in the form of the cross
Despair filled the priest
“The flames had mercy on you
They preserved your flesh
Except for your weakest arm
To give you a sign
Of the suffering you have
Daily in your flesh
So that you may return home
And receive comfort
From the paradise of light
For your salvation”
The lost priest slowly pulled back
And wandered away
To the distant plains of green
When he disappeared
They who bowed down to the sun
Asked the Manichee
“What did the sages whisper”
The Manichee said
“If I tell you all those words
You will stone my flesh
And flames shall burst from those stones
And shall consume you fully
Copyright © David Hyatt-Bickle | Year Posted 2023
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