My Writings


Loosing myself in silence. The thunder of my arrival, dragged through the cruel desert by a mare gone mad, my leg being tied to the saddle, now lies in the past. They will calm down the horse, but not me, as visions of what could have been bloom in my mind. The horrors wash against my shores, only a thin line now between my being and its destruction.

But he ordained that I must continue. And so I look at the messenger’s face in the blind distance. The sky blooming white-hot, and there he emerges, springs from the core of the sun, and into the desert. A trembling vision. The unprepared would think it a mirage, but I have seen its true nature. No, the messenger is real, and I know the words that he carries. I need not break the seal.

I need not break the silence. Instead, I thrive in its embrace, as I see him drawing near. Soon the sound of his footsteps will make itself heard. Familiar steps, born of familiar feet. I am the messenger, even if I am not aware of it at this particular point in time. But that knowledge will cruelly disseminate, raining into my mind along with the suffering that the stupid must endure. Now, from the distance of time, I can see his face most clearly behind the mask. I only needed to look deep into the wrinkles, born of stress, and the crushed posture of the messenger to recognize myself in him. I only needed to hear his hasty, worried voice. But I was ignorant.

Now, in the silence of the night, I have let myself rest for a while. That is, I torture myself in new ways that have not yet left scars. And then I see Him. Merely a man, seemingly broken, but I cannot see his face. Strange, because I should have seen this moment in my dreams. A voice whispers, almost unheard, a tune that I had forgotten for a long time. And now it has come back to me. I am home.

In the presence of this man, the flow of life bends. I feel that I have been here before, in this unfamiliar place. I have always longed to come back, dragging my being through time immemorial, and now the gift has been finally bestowed upon me. He turns his head, but there is no face to be seen. Only light. And so I cover my eyes, my vision left motionless in flight, and I see Him.

Time stops. Questions flow down the riverbed of my words. Words of condemnation. Do you remember me? Do you now see what you have done? Do you remember the proud man I once was? Do you remember the thunder of my heart and the unchained power of my words? Can you see the fruits of your guidance, now rotting? Can you not feel the scars? Where have you been? Eons passed.

And eons passed in an instant. Time was meaningless. I knew that, at the vision’s end, the memories would fade away. Who I was, the pain, the path, the struggle. I will have forgotten. Of myself only a man will remain, a blank slate, a seeking soul. Rejuvenated.

If I see Him so clearly, perhaps I am dragging myself closer.
Perhaps soon, when I redeem myself, I will be able to reach Him.
And ascend.

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