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Thursday, September 20, 2018

Wanderers

by Phoenix 



                                                                           art  by Jason Barnett 





I met the wanderer on a quiet street,
his words drenched in suffering,
every syllable full of a tortured
longing for something. I couldn’t figure out
what until our discussion took a turn.

“I hear you’re looking for adventure,”
the wanderer said.

I couldn’t see much of the figure; he
wore a hood that shadowed even his
basilisk eyes, just a fragment of the darkness that
haunted him.

He moved with elegant slickness
matching his sibilance,
yet his frame wouldn’t budge,
even with the force of an infernal battalion.

I nodded, and he said, “It’s better to dream.
You don’t want to know about the ugliness
I’ve seen, in everything.”

“But you’ve seen things,” I said. “You’ve
done things that I can’t help but covet.”

“I’d rather wonder. You don’t want to
know about the burden I carry, derived from
the heaviness, the infinite possibilities, hanging
on my shoulders. Sure, I met Apollo
and Hades, saw the black and white in every
side of the story, felt the effect
of poetry and flames that
casted shadows of obsidian. I shook
hands and sealed deals with the Devil
while playing checkers with God. I saw the world
pass out of sight in the blink of an eye,
fought wars on distant planets.
But it’s the weight of all of it that I can’t escape,
like trying to shrug off existence.”

“I’d trade everything I had for even a
fraction of what you’ve experienced.
Your soul seems splintered, but
I don’t understand why.”

“It’s the grandness of everything that
swallows you. We become so meaningless,
just flecks of skin, mere puzzle pieces
in a frantic conundrum.”

The wanderer put out his cigarette,
which smoldered like a star going out.
I tried to understand how this soul
could feel so extinguished, after all
he’d done and seen.

I saw silver on his tongue as he spoke.

“Imagination and dreams merge and
let you become the very essence of its core.
When you eventually go out there,
you will shrink with the days that pass.
You will realize even stars are just
specks of dust in the universe,
supernovae just ripples in black water,
planets just pebbles skipped upon the surface.
The imagination pushes past horizons,
destroying limitations with ease,
throwing the fragments and rubble
into a black hole of meaninglessness—
your own subjectivity becomes the focus,
never belittling your purpose.
Wonder while you still can. Wonder while you
still have purpose and conviction, before
existence takes it away and forces you to meander.”

I wasn’t sure what to say.
Roaming aimlessly was my god.
My face was a puzzle of a thousand
confused expressions.

It just didn’t make sense.

“Even the vastness of existence has
limitations,” the wanderer said.
“Nothing is vaster than
wonder.”

He removed his hood,
and for a split second, I saw myself
looking out at me. Then it passed,
and I realized I hadn’t seen him remove his
hood at all.

We parted, and I knew that I wasn’t going to
give up my dream. I barely noticed
my innocence casting shadows behind me,
fragments I could never again claim as my own.






Click Below to read
on the FREEZINE of
Fantasy and Science
Fiction 

3 comments:

  1. A terrific entry for the Freezine, thanks Phoenix ☩

    ReplyDelete
  2. And thank you to Jason Barnett for graciously allowing the Freezine to use his art for our dark, fantastic purpose.

    ReplyDelete
  3. Your welcome, my friend. It’s an honor to be included.

    ReplyDelete

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