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crackling glass

buddhafly schrieb am 24. April 2004 um 14:18 Uhr (445x gelesen):

"She is a good girl in a bad world", said the old man. His right hand, laying on his knee, was trembling slightly. "She knows good worlds. From her childhood when the land was free and the times untroubled. And from her dreams, her oh so beautyful dreams." His eyes were searching the horizon. The sky was blue in grey on this day of the Lord. The man sitting next to him on the bench was in his twenties.

"When did you meet her for the first time?" The old man took a deep breath. "Lucy ... I met her when I was a little younger than you are probably now." He closed his eyes and paused for a moment to stop time and dive into the inner world of his memories and relive the moments with her over and over.

Speaking out of the inner ocean of time he said "It was the time of crackling glass, as I later called it. A phase, as one might call it. My inner light, often scattered by fate, found new hope in someone I met, and found out to be seemingly like me. The time with him was short and fruitful, yet I knew something troubled him, something he expressed in dark words and hopefull notions ... a couple weeks later he died.

"Once again something died inside me, and something else was born, as if his life energy moved upon me, like for some reason a part of him lives in me now, for i cannot forget him, and that noone mortal, me included, was able to give him the hope to live on. Why could we not together forget the troubles of the world for even just a moment?

"Then I met Lucy. She was so innocent ... seemed innocent ... often when I think back I can't say which. I felt something inside her from the very first day, yet at times I was not sure if she was aware of it or not, if she had a secret or not, and if she did, what was she waiting for in time, what kind of moment would it be that this should be revealed unto me?

His breath jerked for a second, like something hit him, then he sank back into his calm and smiled with the smile of a man who knows it all. "How long, in terms of time or moments did it take?" The old man giggled. "Man, you sound like me when I was young." More giggling. "It never came," The younger man was stunned. The old man continued, "it was a long, seemingly neverending series of moments of truth, everyone leaving more questions than answers, yet leaving more summer than winter ... until I thought I'd lose my mind .... " the old man was trying to find words for the un-word-able, making a face like a cured blind man who sees a rainbow for the first time.

They only talked when the sun was shining. Plegory often wondered why that was, but the old man was strange in his ways, so he figured he wanted to stand back behind something, instead of beeing the real gravitational center of interest ... merely a messenger of which. What was it the old man wanted to share before he died? What was it he did not want to take to the afterlife? What is it he wants from me, to take to the afterlife?

"Plegory, in your days our people have been devided, yet you have not forgotten about their ways before they parted, ways which have been lost to them, yet they found you as they always do when the time comes. The spirits of our people are the guards over our time," he looked fiercly at the young master, "and they feel the time of separation has brought forth a new kind of connection between individual humans and spirits, thus between all the spirits, even … ." Plegory felt what his master could not pronounce.

Plegories mouth was wide open, he whispered "How many?". The old man lifted his hand slightly .. a sign to close ones eyes and feel. So he did, and he could feel it, and to his astonishment also see the ring of stars, oh so many stars, in a field of flesh and wine, shining like diamonds.

"Yet they all are seperate, some even unaware of who they have handed their power over to. Our knowledge has been mystified and ridiculed, our ways have come to be of old and sinister, yet truth is the very blood that runs through our veins, that feeds our bodies and keeps our minds clear for our tasks in time.

“Why have you never told me?” the young man whispered with the feeling of crackling glass in his neck. “Because it’s always the right moment for everything, as you know.” The young man slowly nodded his head trying to understand the message coming along with the words of his Master.

“Lucy always remained a mystery to me. Before she left she said: ‘Over time, everything rounds up … what is not clear in the future is clearer in the past, secrets about your past lay in your future, the twisted paths of moving realities are rounding the same, sometimes to a degree that there is hardly any visible superficial difference left, often barly enough to ensure identity. Yet the individual energy has to go somewhere. You and me know that what then happens is that the cores of the round minds connect and start dancing with each other, overcoming time and space to unite in new and wonderful ways, yet also lies and deceit, violence and hate, the emotional day- and nighttime near the poles is where I live, and where I will return to.’

“Even though I heard the words and saw their meaning, my head was spinning and my body weakened slightly from the look on her face that made me as much want to flee as it made me want to kiss her and let the overglowing plasma soup we felt cooking our spines take control of us and give us eternal truth. I’d never seen this kind of look before, and something inside me knew I would never again.

“She grabbed the collar sides of her robe, and with an energetic firework of sparkling desire that only the both of us could see, the robe vanished and the opening arms of hers opened her bosom to my sight and whether it was rose petals or stary dances or the pure innocent flesh that I saw I can not remember, for in my dreams this moment returned so often in so many variations that …. “ the old man paused to catch his slightly aroused breath and gazed at the horizon again. The first star was showing the same moment, even though the sun had not set yet, and the half moon next to the star made them both shiver and tremble for an everspinning overtemporal moment that would from now on guide their paths through the centuries, until the arch reaches the other side in time and space to fullfill the purpose and vanish in memories.

Plegory could not believe. His Masters had broken holy laws, disobeyed the code of the foundation they set for their people. He shrugged timidly for this thought, for his master knew now, and knew the pain of crackling glass in their both necks, just as the setting sun reached equilibrium with the horizon, and made the sky into the appearance of an eggshell, inside which they could feel the coming world waiting to crack open the veil.

‘Veil …’ the young master thought. Of course. Humans close their eyes and call it identity. Many cut themselves off their own roots, not knowing roots and wings are no contradiction. The those beyond the veil did not know of it’s existence for a long time, and so didn’t we. Now …

“Yes,” the master said, and even though the sun had set and he kept talking. “Liberty has been sacrificed for the sake of keeping it safe. The circle of Spiritual Detention is a vicious one. Yet, only in circles humans could grow to the spin you witness all around you.”

2003-03-23

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