A DISCUSSION WITH THE DEVIL
A
wandering minstrel writing down the observation of the perception given on this
dichotomy we have defined as our reality found a place to stand still in awe of
the many lines on a single tree.
In a
man-made grove at the heart of a city in the western lands, where many find
liberty, there began a postulation of the scenery.
At
first a simple thought about the beauty contained within the immediate
environment; the individual’s mind soon traveled toward the infinite.
Many
faces were seen throughout the crowd; Men holding their shoulders up so proud;
Women well endowed; Youth so intoxicated they stand with their heads bowed;
Elderly asking why the music has to be so damn loud.
Yet
this wandering minstrel stood gazing incessantly at this simple tree.
As
time flowed forth into the river down the minstrel’s spine crawled a shiver.
A
hulking mass pointed upward to the sky slowly began to change before the
minstrel’s very eye.
On
this new object of obsession lines appeared in rapid succession
A
moment so intense the minstrel was unsure if endurance would outlast the
magnificence.
Frequent
breaks from the glory had to be taken to catch a breath or the minstrel would
have certainly tasted death.
Once
composure was regained a return to the watchers post was sustained.
Harmonies
emanated into open ears along frequencies developed over years of dedication to
an art distributing vibrating philosophies over many lands and seas.
Where
many were there was only one; There was only one where there were many.
A
legion in the region of the beehive state believing in the passion found while
living in the present people create stimulated the contemplation of the
complexity contained inside a constant singularity bound to a genius vision of
relativity.
Awestruck
by the grandeur the idea stuck the minstrel before the mighty tree once more.
Amongst
thousands of voices chattering the principle of mind over matter began
splintering.
Discreetly
wandering from the spot of tranquility the broken soul wandered quietly out
into the darkness on an unknown journey.
Away
from the noise there was no longer any need for poise.
Above
the heads of all was glowing a yellow-white crystal ball.
The
moon was full; the sky was empty; as thoughts beyond this world landed on a
fool.
Over
concrete paths tread many times the strings of indoctrination started to
unwind.
An
idea represented by the bright yellow-white dot was the pursuit of both feet
and thought.
Over
distances incalculable by our mathematics the minstrel poured over the
statistics.
The
complexity in the idea this reality has a distinct polarity derived from the
simplicity of one eternally recurring singularity is enough to sincerely lead
one into the pits of insanity.
Distraught
by the profound nature contained within this instant the self was wrought with
a torment which had lay dormant inside this informant of the human condition.
Darkness
Light
Light
Darkness
Opposition
creates the division of the singularity necessary to provide the opportunity
for the individual to make a decision.
“What
freedom does one truly have with the choices they are given in this world?”
Exhausted
by the mental strain the minstrels body stopped moving from a sudden pain.
“Water,
the giver of life, I must have you to end this strife.”
Awakened
to the fatigue setting in, from the wandering now nearing an end, the minstrel
stumbled in the direction pointed to the home of a friend.
Two
strangers in an argument stood yelling at one another on the pavement as the
apparition passed by unnoticed, silent, and alone.
Clarity
seeped into the clouded mind as the friend opened the door joyfully.
Light
beamed onto the stolid face of someone no one would be able to tell had been
moving at a feverish pace which was both physically and mentally incomprehensible
to the human race.
The
worn body dropped heavily into a chair with one last heave as gratitude could
be seen in a smile for this long awaited reprieve.
Several
minutes passed while no words were spoken before the necessity provided the energy
to stand once more.
Liquid
sustenance poured out of the faucet in abundance as cup after cup was drank
down with exuberance.
Serenity
laid its hand gently on the conversation regarding the singularity chased after
with futility by the silly minstrel who attempted to catch the moon.
A
distraction appeared on the television in the form of a show mocking a
billionaire buffoon.
The
clock ticked passed the second noon when the dear friend began to swoon.
Farewells
were exchanged, belongings were retained, and the minstrel departed into the
night in vain.
Outside
the world had gone to sleep.
In the
shadows discomforting eyes had begun their creep.
With
weary feet the minstrel began to tread hurriedly along the beaten path in
search of the protection of a sanctuary from the paranoia induced by a fearful
dread of those you cannot see.
To the
delight of chagrin an orange flicker lit up the form of a person.
Greetings
came through the familiar voice of a neighbor, although the sensation present
stated what stood near was a stranger.
A
prince in the darkness wearing the clothes of a pauper impressed a feeling the
minstrel was in danger.
The
conversation began with the humorous dissection of each human interaction they
had played that day.
Laughter
and music echoed between the houses while the moon rose in the sky until it
found a place to stay.
Yin
and Yang
Yang
and Yin
One
sat dwelling in the night while the other was illuminated by the moonlight.
The
dichotomy of our humanity separated by a line drawn in the sands of space and
time revealed the fundamental aspect of each denizen sitting next to one
another in this realm of creation.
A
slight tap on the shoulder of the night by the light caused an involuntary
shiver in the pauper so severe it made the heart of the minstrel quiver.
“Do
not touch me ever again”
Hissed
back a malevolent voice burdened by the sins of men
Stagnation
strangled the air so much the minstrel became aware a foul change was
overcoming this newly acquainted relation.
Intellectual
debates quickly degraded into philosophical arguments whenever the eternally
pondered theory of a recurring singularity was connected to the literary
subject of discussion.
Any
words spoken by the minstrel were cut short with an abrupt interruption by the
voice of contradiction.
“You
do not understand. No one can see the future. They did not write with
foresight; the universe spoke through them.”
Inebriation
of the mind slowly increased the agitation and indignation directed toward the
minstrel until the physical frame reached the point of exacerbation.
“You
have given me much brain food to chew on. However, I must apologize for I am
very tired, and must retire for the evening. Thank you.”
Laughter
“Have
I!? You have pondered on these ideas of mine we have discussed this night long
before we spoke of them. Do not pander me with your gratitude as if I am some
fool.”
The
minstrel could not respond. The tongue was bound. Blood ran cold.
“Here
is some ‘food’ for thought. I sit in the darkness, always adorned in black,
dwelling on the negative energy within all life, drawing it unto me. What if I
am the devil?”
Fractured
by the inquiry the light dispersed into the night in a blurred pattern
distressing the minstrel’s sight.
No
response could be uttered.
“I
will be honest than, I am the devil.”
A vile
change overcame the demeanor and physical form of the person still on the
bench.
The
disguise of the pauper was removed to reveal the wise and mighty prince of
lies.
Arms
appeared until there were six.
Out of
obsidian glass a malicious gaze did fix.
Upon
the face of the familiar contorted the appearance of the horned image of the
destroyer.
Imposed
on a background of the powerful symbol of the pentagram it began to speak.
“Throughout
this conversation all I have done is attempt to convince you the science of man
is the only truth in this pathetic world. Convince you the people and
organizations dedicated to the ethereal, the spiritual realm, are fundamentally
flawed insomuch they are a merely nothing more than a mockery of the natural state,
and should be met with impetuous laughter. If you have purported this doctrine
of mine do you not serve me?”
“Since
the awakening of my self in this life I have tried to convince people of the
falsehood in their religious doctrines and institutions; would this not make me
your advocate?”
The
minstrel retorted without hesitation. A vicious smile beamed back from the
image.
“Yes.
Will you serve me?”
The
world heaved and groaned three times at the question; to the minstrels back,
left, and right.
Silence
permeated the air for a moment that seemed to last forever.
When
the minstrel looked up to respond the phantom had drawn close. Infuriated by
the encroachment the response was unleashed with an extreme emotional
excitement.
“I am
an observer of humanity. I always have been, and I always will be. I am a
writer dedicated to truthfully displaying the machinations of fate spun by the
hand of those who dwell within the confines of this realm. This is done for the
benefit of others, not just one. What has happened this night will be written
so all those who read it will be able to apply their own perception to what has
occurred.
I am a
guardian to truth and wisdom; I always have been, and I always will be.
I will
not serve you for I serve no entity but my self.”
The
power in the words spoken by the minstrel caused the spirit to recede into a
barely visible shadow of its former glory.
“I
have to exist! I have to be in order for balance to be maintained. Do you think
I have a choice!?”
“That
is a question you will have to answer, not me. This is not our first meeting,
nor will it be our last. Black suits you well dear friend. Continue to wear the
foul stench of death and decay around your neck so I may sense your presence
when it is near. I will continue to freely choose to be an observer, a
guardian, to the recurring singularity of this beautifully transcendental
existence for all of eternity. Enjoy your night.”
