Forward To The Beginning
Seeping through the horizon fog, a young boy is traveling down an eerie bike path following a church bell blaring in the distance. As he continues down this path he approaches a mammoth of a castle, and upon a staircase. With every step the boy took up the staircase the ringing of the church bells grew faster and louder. Screaming out in a voice of protection. Warning the boy to stop and turn around.
Silence. The door was open by the boisterous boy. The inside of the castle followed suit to that of the outside. Cold, dark, and had a distinctive smell that left the hair on your body sticking straight up. The stricken fear in the boys eyes were overwhelmed by the power of the boys willingness for exploration. Moving his way through the corridor entrance- no light guided his steps but that of a beam of light showing in the distance. As he made his way towards the light a familiar noise arose in the air. A pumping beat that constricted his chest with every *thud* it produced. The closer and closer the boy got to the light, the tighter his breath became. Gasping for an answer to feed his beast of a temptation for truth. His screams were in gulped by the walls, as they soaked in all his sorrow. Finally he made it to the light. A room of spartan lifestyle; bare to the bone with nothing filling the hostile cubicle- except a mirror.
It all started about two years ago- the day I died. In a past-tense state of preservation, my mind and body were in-sync. Diluted from harm and oblivious to the post-traumatic shock. I was at peace hovering over my life like a third-party narrative. Gliding to the predestined path my mind has sculpted out. Piecing together bits of back stored knowledge to help create a kaleidoscope barrage of newly formed places of old. Translating that of what is there, to what is beyond. By encrypting a diplomatic thought and using it as energy to fuel a new form of creation.
I was traveling to what seemed to be the Red Square in Moscow, Russia, but surrounded by a colorful forest of titanic trees. Full of life and natural beauty it was kept silent as I was abandoned from contact. Monuments and obscure structures guided my tedious journey. (Each connecting from the last-using it as a checkpoint in my whereabouts. Continuing is a mystery of not knowing my control inside a thought.)
Floating on down a winding river; the gentle current brushed against the side of the canoe. Glistening the smooth oak wood, leaving a crisp ripple of water every time they met. Each stroke from the broad oar cut through the water like a hot knife through a warm stick of butter. Transferring from side to side swiftly making my way into the fresh new abyss. The moonlight from straight above made maneuvering away from the tree branches that stretched out across the river possible. While the reflection of the night sky bore bright in the navy blue water. As the stars guarded my journey and told my story.
After traveling down the river, I docked my canoe alongside the river bed. Protected with camouflage by the tall wild grass and shrubs. I began to make my way, using the constellations as a method of conversation, deciphering the stories they told from past "travelers". Following the straight line of Orion's Belt I steadied my pace not knowing what lies ahead. Never the less, I continued forward entering the first stage of my odyssey.
This is the ending of a beginning that was shaped out to be nothing more than a mere soft elegant breeze wrapping me in it's sweet arms. A time were the only direction I knew can no longer be found. Losing my voice in a fight with tranquility, and left only with a whisper that carries with the wind. Frozen with curiosity there is no longer a place that fulfills my longevity. Unable to breath to let myself go, my visionary is a black & white photograph placed upon a shelf left to see the time pass it by. Captured in a stalemate sense of illusion, with the intent to have that of another sit down to wonder, and ask the questions we only ask those of others but not to ourselves. A tantalizing dosage of reality that we look upon to reminisce.
Every night that goes bye, the boy finds harder to lift his eyes. Destructed under a new curse that leaves his body full of air. Bringing indecision on whether if it is over or if it has just begun. To the point where he finds himself burning the past of each second just to make them last. Shattered glass covered the floor. Along with the boy, as he knelt motionless in front of where the mirror once stood. His body left numb from the shrilling silence inside the room. It was finished. He could finally go home.
In a struggle of internal affairs he makes his way back. To the place where he will rest in peace. Shackled to his own life, the boy abandoned the empty castle making his way back. His mood best resembled that of the weather outside. As for the first time the gray skies released a steady down pour of rain that rattled off every object it touched as it fell down.
Sing to me, the very song you see. In this garden of gray stone- open up my eyes to the world you gaze upon. Because I don't know where I am, or where I am going. It feels as if I am drifting alongside the edge of enlightenment. Tittering back and forth between visionaries. Slowly letting everything I touch slip through my fingers, fading off in the distance until it becomes a vague image in my memory. I have planted my soul in the soil just to watch it grow. With the intent to try and forget the pain in seeking truth and reconciliation. To stand and wait for the simple joy to embrace- a new level, a new chapter in my future.
After following the unpaved trail, I took shelter from the night on an unoccupied bench. In solitude from humanity I sat; scanning the terrain. Detailing every inch of observation that was lying in front of me. Examining each malignant aspect as I looked back to recollect on how I got to this place. Enclosed in a forest full of secrets, i decimated the dreaded boundary of entrapment and tried to cross the barrier to the other side. Where the view of the plentiful flowers washed your eyes with their magnificent beauty. A place with fresh air so brisk and clear that it logs for you to stay there. Color of bestowed lights and natures majestic sights circle the quarantined quarters. Sheltering the gloom, bleak fortress with its gullible perception.- I leave that behind and make stride through the barrier into the vacant Vatican.
Reluctant to move past the shadows I awoke in, my threshold persuaded me to carry on. Trusting that the trail would lead me somewhere warm. Short of a labyrinth, my path took me straight to the heart of the source. The trail ended leaving me alone; I now found myself stranded in a misty black & white purgatory square and over looked by a renaissance style castle of great magnitude. As I made my way up the seemingly never ending staircase to the large maple double doors. The gold trim shinned bright gleaming with a sense of hospitality. Continuing on up the steps, the sound of church bells filled the air. Chiming to the beat of my foot steps buzzing in beat narrating my every move. Softly playing the tune of a sweet serendipity symphony as I took grasp of the gold handles and thrust the boulder-like double doors open wide. Inside the desolate inflestructure lied nothing more than a brightly lit room at the end of the hallway. Eager at first to supplant my curiosity, I moved hesitantly soaking in my surroundings.
I arrived at the room, standing in a pool of my own sweat. As i looked back at my own reflection in a 6 foot tall one-way mirror. (It was big to say the least, the brass trim around the tinted glass made it seem immortal.) The mirror mimicked my every motion, contracting my heart with a continuous piercing sonar. I moved closer and closer, coming within my own body- Reaching out to touch the mirror, to get a sense of touch- It all stopped.
Washing away in the rain, the boy took shelter underneath a Stonehenge replica of chiseled boulders and perfectly placed stone templates. Closed behind the lids of his eyes the boy drifts away into his subconscious.
I wake up, in a cold sweat; confused of my whereabouts. In an aura of disarray, I sit at he edge of my bed, face down in the palms of my hands. Going with my better judgement I walk to my closet and take out a glass heart. Clear of running red liquid the crystallized veins beat simultaneously with that of my own heart. Full of rage and self-pity I violently spin and chuck the glass heart through my window. Shattering the glass and breaking the heart into oblivion. I regain myself and control my emotion and make my way to the window still to over look the jagged pieces of glass that lay scattered on the sidewalk. I stare motionless down at the crime scene; I get on the edge to jump and join them. Killing “the boy”, along with myself.
I’m dead inside, my heart no longer beats. It feels as if it is pieced together by a thin singlet of twine. On the verge of splitting into two. A vacant organ occupied by a hole o scolding blood. To the first end of an old chapter being laid to rest by a body of treachery..
It’s hard to fill expectations when you expect nothing but the worst. Through eyes that envision the world in a dazed & confused state. With a loose grasp on tranquility and an obscure self diminished longevity. Storied rooms are filled with lust, leaving me beaten while breaking my trust. As I sit on this fault line, waiting for my death, The days drag on like a cigarette in my hand. The clouds rain down on me, pouring down a pattern of sympathy leaving my mind to wonder a drift. Scrambling images of flashes of lightning bolts help supplant a divine imagination. While drifting away to the tone of the roar of the thunder that is purely defiant.
This life, well she is my desert flower. Beautiful and bright with a deadly scowl. Filled with a toxic poison in her veins that only brings out pain.