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
A terrific entry for the Freezine, thanks Phoenix ☩
ReplyDeleteAnd thank you to Jason Barnett for graciously allowing the Freezine to use his art for our dark, fantastic purpose.
ReplyDeleteYour welcome, my friend. It’s an honor to be included.
ReplyDelete