The Temple Watches

Many Literary geniuses have used a towering building in their art. They create a structure that is far superior and far more useless than the common dwellings that surround it; maintaining a contestant symbol of some kind. But because all the authors in the world seem to be tortured in one fashion or the other the symbol is commonly dark and sinister therefore much too ominous to expect anywhere in our safe world of real life, right?

Alright, safe is not the word to be used when referring to real life; those authors were tortured because they had been a part of that very experience. But I do not experience real life, you see, I live in Provo. Each symbol I have found in this magnificent novel has turned classic literature on its head. The mountains that surround us do not close us in on ourselves and our nightmares, oh no, they are partly the Pride Rock of Mufasa and partly the gigantic Y that people hike to to change their lives. Mountains are walls surrounding us is an encouraging safety, duh, how could you think otherwise?!

When the winds begin to blow and the clouds roll in from the east, the atmosphere morphs; a new kind of breath is drawn. This breath does not rattle, quiver or shake; in fact you want to breath more deeply and relax. The smell produced by this overtaking darkness leaves the air sweet and perfumed, even making the thought of romance more prevalent.

But along with these terrifying and confining omens inside a perfect little town...we also boast the almighty looming structure. There are eleven of these hill toppers in all of Utah, despite the small militia they say it is this very object that changes all that its light touches.

The Provo temple can be seen from wherever you are. Look and you will see your true goal, your reason for going home early, the way to happiness, the reminder you are blessed...and the contradiction this has to all learned men is that...well, there is no contradiction in it. No rich gentlemen lives there in daily agony and loneliness, no witch has cast a spell and no, there isn't even a slightly unsettling feeling produced by its presence.

What kind of reality is there when the rules laid down for us by fiction are ignored, even mocked. I say Something has to give, either Perfect Provo goes or depressing symbols do.

No matter what the masses choose, I stay; some tortured author has to pick up the pieces.