.
If
love were the solution, Stewart’s yellow pet Mithra-polos would
be
its best purveyor; no other being could have undergone
the
burning zap of the electrostatic radiance with which
.
Mithra-polos
had had forever to contend; his beloved
steward
Stewart had exactly one aim in his life, which
was
to mount a war against the rest of everything. Except
.
Mithra-polos,
who would not go away. Stewart knew the surname
of
Mitropoulos – Dmitri with that appellation was conductor
of
The New York Philharmonic right up to when Leonard Bernstein
.
took
the reins and thunder and the light away from him:
but
mostly Stewart liked Mitropoulos because he led his
orchestras
not with baton but with his hands. Otherwise
.
the
name had meaning for its Zoroastrian suggestiveness: hence
his
having re-configured it to showcase Mithras: the God
for
centuries who’d given Christianity a run: Stewart was
.
quite
sure that Mithras would conduct his forces with his hands,
not
with a wand, like that pretender Jesus would have done. But
Mithra-polos
cared not at all about his steward’s mystical
.
peculiarities.
It was his lot to love his steward Stewart and he did.
And
does. Mithra-polos had even come to love the buzz of
Stewart’s
enmity. And Stewart loved Mithra-polos because
.
it
turns out, everyone must love what love is at least once
before
they die. Did you know that was a rule? Mithra knew,
and
knows. Having come back in the form of yellow pet, he knows
.
he
is the real Messiah. Though no one else can know. That’s
the
thing with real Messiahs. One never knows they’re here.
What
then is the use of them? Who said they had to have a use?
.
.
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