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I see darkness. Amplified by a foreboding silence. Harked by the sovereign call of the crow. The sharp gnarled claws grasp the prey fiercly. Shaking and tearing at the new baby’s flesh. The fine white fodder falls to the feet of men. The mouths of leeches, grubs and spiders. Decompose and kill. Their fossilised existence, echoed as an all too timely reminder. A memory passes of what is to happen. The oracles forsee the past. Mountains of lava pour into valleys of rock. Ice turns to water. Earth to stone. The rising of the sun on the 13th day of the 12th month. Loving esther, we who hide. Our identities, our pasts. The truths of our redeemable deeds. A herald to the many atrocities we will commit.
The chirp of the sparrow welcomes anew the birth of the morn. The death of a great serpent, to only rise again at dusk. An eternal battle, within and without. Success and defeat personify and empty hall. The blood of man has not only tainted the land, but the seas and stars and sky, the moon, a red eye, surveys it wondrous destruction. Death, destruction, plague, horror. True, pure love. Un abetting, un abhorrent. An adornment of the truth. Forged in life, guided in death.
Arise sir world, like a phoenix after birth. Form the ashes of this world. Bare yourself on abetting wing, lifting tho to the highest peak. Take care doth I quote, to not fall. So simple the act of birth. Deliverance form the inevitable and such a horrid existence. The hideous screams of torture penetrate my blindness. This empty cavity alive with living beings. Alive with death. The pounding heart, circulates the balck viscous tar. Their memories kept for an eternity. A trove of souls amongst a flailing world. All life and humanity forged in the intricate metal work. The fine gold leaf blocks out the painful truth. Blinded, self-inflicted, many years ago. An escape form a harsh reality. A pure existence soiled by the acts of those living. Their terrible thoughts themselves engulf the cavern.
The searing burn. The foul stench of burning flesh. Blood clings to and congeals on the red hot knife. A cauterised wound bares witness to the void. A beautiful, innocent, white heart ripped out. Its purity spilt and lost within every droplet. An implosion sucks in all humanity. The void that housed this one true heart, now houses all that lives. All that is dead. All that is dying. Those who are righteous shall be lifted up unot the highest peak. Their names shall be spoken as if angels themselves, are heralding each soul. Forgiveness comes to all purity and clarity. Existence that is of betterment. Twice in a lifetime.
Those who do not heed the warnings are consumed. The vile venom will blind them while torturous screams torment them til a time with no end. They too will be seared with red rods. They will bathe in decay. Their skin peeling off in the heat of the boilers. The seedy pulp of a tomato now be their form. Turned inside out. Given as food, eaten by the others.
The blind man closes his dark eyes to the outside world. Dreaming of a better place and time. A great hall, like those of Valhalla. Chandeliers of perfect ice crystals. A ragging fire that never burns. Perfect clarity, yet with no light. A single being stand by the fire. Probing the flames with their small hands. Desperately grasping at it. Hoping. Pleading. Alone forever is a lonely thought. No one to take to. Nothing to look at, but a void of nothingness. Nothing to hear, taste or smell, but that which is created.
The child torn by the crow’s claws stil pleads helpslessly. Mautikei the Jew. Son of the Buddhist and Christian. Lineage to the Arabia and the oriental. Of all, but as none. Of everything at every moment. Given as the sacrifice for all. The child cries in vain. Its actions are hopeless. Its tears do not quell the fire. The tears moisten the hands of Mautikei. The arms and body.
The flames leap and tear at his body. The sphere of the world he lifts upon his back. The charred surface heals instantaneously. Ghost of spirits appear before his eyes. The hall is filled with light. A blind man able to see more than any ever has before. The decimation is over. Mautikei no longer exist. A small group of embers flicker with the flames of the hundreds before him. The souls witness this pure purge of a selfless act. Selfless. Naïve. White. Clean. They soon forget.
The tears of the mauled child flow as a stream to the sea, fuelling the embers, their eternal existence. The embodiment of Truth, Love and being. Once every thousand years the great hall is empty. The selfless martydom of one saves the many. As 3 fish and 5 loaves fed the 500. Less likely will the phoenix ever rise again. Never again will the halls witness a rebirth. This is their final renaissance. Silently, one day, this child will weep for no one. Her tears will fuel the conquering fires of destruction. All alone, she will be witness, scribe, lover, mother, sister, to all those who gave of themselves. She is the one who endures forever. When re-incarnation of every being ceases, she will be the only one left without a place. Neither hell nor heaven, befit this child. She knows all and feels all. She is forever. Continuous. Never to die. As much as the pain and suffering kill her inside, physically, she will remain. A silent witness to humanity. To us and our actions. Blackness will cover her eyes as she blocks out the images. Purging the evil. What she has seen can never be purged. It will dance inside her mind forever. An eternal son et lumiere show within that skull. The deafening silence of the empty hall, only serves to amplify the reverberating screams. |
