Patch of Light

ow, as I sit in the realm of my own mind I ponder all of my small and meaningless possessions. My mind drifts back to a place where everything is better. Up and on my way to the ends of the earth to protect my future Kingdom from the perils of the evil men. They are the ones whom make me do things that are inconceivably wrong by my own degree. This is the one wrong that exists within my life. As the fog removes itself from the ground I have to wonder if what I am doing is true. No. How could I think this of such a perfect life that has been created for me.

Well here I am, going to my Kingdom to re-enact what I want. Out of the corner of my eye, and down the road to my right, I see a man approaching on horseback. I, anxious for company, and overtaken with boredom from my pilgrimage, waited for him to meet me in the middle of the Y.

"Well what are you," I asked.

"Oh I am just a lonely traveler that desires something more."

"What is your name," I asked.

"Ricardo."

I tell him my name and he responds with a smile. He is overtaken with my charm and, having nothing better to do, as most of mine and his type don't, elects to join me on the road to my world. Through conversation I learn of his background that is plagued with limits on what he can do. I tell him of myself and of my kingdom. He asks many questions relating to my Kingdom and I tell him of the glorious things he will encounter there. I feel that he does not believe me and although this is hard for me to accept I let it pass.

As I drink the water I have brought, I notice him gleaming in the sun. While we sat and drank he spoke of the world in which he came. Different from mine yet the same in many ways. Close minded fools of prided joy sit and watch life go by. It must be there, they figure, for someone else. It must be something that won't effect us. All that thought produces nothing but hatred. Foolishness is bred by those subscribing to this religion.

On with our trek through life. Ricardo, now my friend for the trip has brought us out of the usual shyness and awkwardness that is associated with strangers, is sleeping over his reclining horse-Note: A very good model, must have money where he came from. End Note- Ricardo sleeps often but speaks even more, he is anxious to tell me of his plight for it is one that he deems to be nearly intolerable. I like Ricardo, he is a constant reminder of life before I left my life.

Hearing a boisterous noise beside us we turn. There laying in a clump of moist shapeless matter was Murt. Later this poor soul told us name, and since there is no way except by that of his name to describe him, I shall call him Murt now. Murt rose from his bed of grass and proceed to beg us for money-Note: Money could possibly have been life, interchangeable anyway right? End Note- Well to make a long-story-short Murt joined us. Even though he proceeded on foot, he did not show any signs of tiredness. For his kind had great endurance. Murt was from the area known as Soice-Note pronounced as SOYS. End Note- Meanwhile Murt spoke, for his kind normally does , quite a lot about his place of origin. Countless hours of work for his own benefit. Murt spoke of his tries to fix his own life through activity, this shows me of his background and lets me store things for future conversation. This attempt at personal satisfaction tells me of a soul that must please others to survive, the victim of his own empathy one might say.

As we walked; I with my bruised conscious, Ricardo with his hatred for neutrality, and Murt with his exertion of bodily resources, a deep and thoughtful discussion took place between the two of them, at least as deep as Murt could achieve. However, I did not take part in this discussion. I rarely did so after my ideas were so violently opposed in my old life. I used to be quite outspoken but with the close minded ideas reaching for me I was conditioned to keep my ideas to myself.

y mind drifted back to the place of my origin, blue sky dotted with the carcasses of the abstract ones who came before. Nothing is to change, live the way you were destined to live. To ask a lifetime of questions is to receive a lifetime of other people�s answers. This is the way things worked there. Milling around in a slow rhythmic cycle to please the insecure. My life consisted of mind travel to my own little kingdom in which I could be happy. Nothing more to live by nothing more to hate. Do not synthesize a way of life, this seems to be their creed. I feel very distant at this point. Not at one with what surrounds me. Disjointed from their reality.

Within my time span here I realized that beyond the gates of this place and beyond this tranquil boredom lie a sector by which no one can become tired of their surroundings. I lived my life for many years within these false walls that bind me to my future, now I see what they have been telling me; you do not exist by being, you exist by doing and also by justifying your creation through proven work. This is the greatest hatred I hold for these beings. These beings equate living with value to working and measuring up to the standards. I do not, however, subscribe to the pleasurable conformity that many do. Since this is not my way I am removed from acceptance and belonging and set to live in a place of surreal life. A typical story of a young boy without a home or place of being to hang his hat.

The people content with living here give feedback in the form of threats. �IF you, then you, if then you.�These negative perceptions are fruit of the natural evil that comes with being confined in a small existence. This profile of life brings about the small possibility for someone like me to be regurgitated from the pitiful existence of my place of origin. However, conditions are perfect for one or two people to break free and live unchained and different. This exception to the rule is where I fit in.

sharp jolt pulls me from my mind�s reflections on the past to the abrupt time of the present. Murt has attempted to draw me into his conversation. Ricardo, whom I can identify with more than Murt, shakes his head wearily; he knows of privacy and of a beings right to wander within the mind. This is so due to his pre-journey life and the place in which he lived it. I look at Murt with loathing written all over my face. You, not my poor lowly friend Murt, are the cause of death, and the reason for not living.

�Understand Murt, that I do not detest the idea of speech. However, I do detest changing thought and action to give you another side to whatever argument you may be discussing.� This I say with a smile on my face but contempt on the underside of my skin.

�Well friend, says Murt, �I must express my apologies for what I have done.�

�Worry no more of it,� I say.

Riding on in silence a mutual decision to retire was reached. Stopping at the nearest oasis we threw our tired bodies upon the planet to rest. Sleeping has become a time for me to clear my thoughts and replenish my daily supply of sane-ness. No longer a time for resting muscles, tendons, or brainpower, but a time to keep from becoming insane.

While I lay in the thick patch of mud, Ricardo steps into my mind. From where I do not know, but does anybody understand the workings of the mind? Neither do I care, for he is here and that is what matters to me. I wonder what he is thinking sometimes, he can manipulate his muscles within his face like none I have ever seen. Sometimes he can achieve an unordinary expression that causes me to wonder what is behind the glossy eyes and glowing exterior. What, if anything, could be thought behind that insidious face. Who knows what reckless thoughts could be stored within the blackness of that mind. Ricardo has endured many years of silence. His fear of judgment has built up, his thoughts are mutated into an insensible mass that is offensive to the delicate structure of the established mind. Ricardo leaves the inner domain of my mind and nothing replaces him, I am asleep.

disproportionate feeling becomes my reality, a new feeling is abound in this world. There here anything and everything is space, or perhaps lack thereof. To be is to take up space. No other prerequisite, to exist requires nothing other than to alleviate the space that is left. As drifting goes, I am quite aware-space is in between us taking away ourselves. Nothing beyond, nothing above, no life without space.

�Gotta space available sir?� Proper usage of the space allotted leads to proper control of our lives. Space in all forms, space to write, space to calculate, space to read, see, live, die, breath, be, it is all we are.

No longer will I live here under anyone else�s control. This is not something that I consider to be good for me. Nothing will save me from what others have done this odd feeling is what the new world feels like when it enters my soul. My life is wisked away form me and is sat in the lap�s of those whom I despise. Nonexistent feelings of mine that mean nothing to anyone but myself. These people and their actions act like cement walls. Cement walls are my life. Life is holding me in someone else�s standard for what I can do. Limits, this world is limits. Limits to what I can say, limits on what I can do limits on everything that I have ever wanted to experience. Only inside my mind, where I am now, can I be happy and content with life.

As the surreal odyssey through the fat roles of society permeates the air in which we breathe, I come towards you with sincerity in my @#$% %&#@$ mind nothing but reality and fantasy to guide me.

I have sinned and taken it upon myself to right these sins of hatred passion and nothing, something will come into view soon That much can be assured--that I will have a redeeming factor within my life. I am a good person, right withall and wrong with just myself, proud and yet, remorseful for that pride, a strange situation, no? I do not know.

And so I take my place along the vocations that I do not want, along the death that is my whole world and along the expectations of my whole life. That is reality...no? Yes probably , anyway that occurs to be quite a phenomenal experience. or matter? Difference, no.

ollowing the death of myself, the story which has changed dramatically in the last sections, carries on. We all awoke and proceeded onward.

NO longer could I hold myself above the greed of myself. These two companions and I have become friends beyond that of all others. All through the trouble ridden hell that has become what is called life for most of us, I have risen above all and lived through death, the ultimate test, the ultimate problem, and the ultimate release. Nothing is not lack of something in death, it is the possibility that something is possible. That experience that I have called death is nothing more than the lack of the possibility for something to happen. That is what I have called it. That is death. No more shall that be me, I will not proceed that way, with the help and strength of Murt and Ricardo I will make it to my kingdom that has no name.

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