Thursday, March 15, 2012

After my experience yesternight I awoke with a keen sense of purpose. I would remain alert all the day, ready to answer the smallest call. Knowing that it was food in excess that had led me astray, I resolved that I should defeat this temptation fully. The first idea that arises in a man's mind when he is considering how to end his gluttony, or indeed any of the vices of intemperance, is to stay away from the evil item at all costs and at all times, forbearing, so far as he is able, even thinking of the thing. This, however powerful the inclination to act on this impulse, and however wise the path appears on the surface, is in reality the act of a consummate fool. The more one tries to remove the offending thought from the front of the mind, the more consistently and powerfully it resides in the back. It bides its time, growing and feeding off of a man's decaying patience until, in a burst of passion only possible due to the will being utterly exhausted, the vice leaps from the subconscious and into action.

I knew what to do. For the whole morning I painstakingly collected food, understanding that the way to victory lay in mastering this demon head on. After I had collected all of this food, I began to stare and contemplate it, fighting and battling the urges that rattled and raged in my loins. I sat there for no less than half the day, my ration being a single red berry each hour. I would take this berry and consume it, feeling the nourishment enter my bones and focusing on the hunger pangs in my stomach, seeing them each passing hour more and more clearly as the lies they were.

By sundown my spirit was at peace. I knew that I had conquered my vice, and I was settling down to sleep. It was then that I was rewarded for my faithfulness. The light entered the pool as before, but no images began to form upon its surface. Instead, the light collected into the center of the pool and then moved towards the edge where I sat. The light grew smaller and smaller, yet brighter and brighter as it concentrated itself into a fist size area, then shot up from the surface and into my chest! The spirit had entered its servant and would now use the vessel for its purposes.

Of course, there are no words to describe my inner experience, but I will attempt to relate those things which happened outside my body. I rose and went to my collection of vittles. Taking those same red berries which had been my meager but sufficient sustenance that day, I began to amass them into a pile and then smash them into a rich paste. My arms and legs were not my own as I walked to my pack and loosed my journal. Glory and praise, my hands were infused with the spirits of the highest, and they took that paste and began to create, just as had the night before been prophesied! Oh, Oh! Mine hands have drawn, they have drawn! Mine fingers have traced, they have traced! In this humble journal was put down the messages from the skies!

I blacked out. I found myself several hours later still next to my journal. As I woke, I glanced down into it, having forgotten what had transpired, and was met with a shock that took my breath away. There right below me was a message from the gods, the script the same as I have seen twice in the holy pool, yet in my own handwriting! And there too the images! What were they? The oval wheel of fate, the gathered sages, the ruling vizier, all sitting before my eyes and all having been depicted by my hand!

What is the meaning of too much blessing? Where is the limit of destiny? Can a mortal stand to be the pen of eternity and live?

It seems that I, poor I, chosen I, shall delve these cavernous secrets.

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