Comrades of the Desert

Comrades of the Desert

“Before all else I should be aware of the rarity of this document. Furthermore of all those years of imprisonment in which I witness such living torment, that I blinded myself to the descent to hell which I as an individual experience. I’m not immune or impregnable but vastly ignorant. Face with an enigma, with a living breathing trauma. A mental force capable anchoring an entire generation.” - Anonymous

Life, if to say its Light and if life exist without light, so does Light exist without life?

         I believe the answer is that nor can exist without the other. But rationality is such an obscure case to handle.

         It can melt and mold without principles and take victims without bodies. Hostages of rationality.

         Excuse myself I have being living far too long in that psalm of traumas.

         Perhaps…

I shall reserved myself yet I feel the expanding need to retile those illusions of lights. Let us presume and assume that this next story is not a fabrication of madness.

Psalms of Traumas

I’ve concluded that the time I spent in the territory of trauma could not it all be measure. As in the dominion of trauma the cycle of time ran in a morbidly curious manner. Those inhabiting that peculiar vicinity had no names, birth or death. And even memories ran a bizarre pattern, which I clearly have come to believe only existed for a fragment of a second before it became itself a new law. Oblivious were those who eat the law and it power soon came to fade until another fragment give rise to more power.

         Unbearable as it was, that marvelous sphere of decay was the living testament of what I speculate is Life without Light.

         
         The daily routine consisted of little satisfaction over memories. I specially indulge in the theory of ‘Another Tomorrow’. As it being know through the land that Baron Spinetta once argue with Kaiser Sud-Ka, what imbeciles.

         Valiant those who fought in the losing side of Baron Spinetta, timid were those unable to adapt to new idea and fought with Kaiser Sud-Ka. Javier Abuelo led Baron Spinetta’s troops and in that dark day Baron Spinetta fell and Javier Abuelo became a reminder of what danger is to be alive.

By the time I came to question the very idea of the fall of Baron Spinetta in the fields of De-Nur, I had pile together various parts of the urban knowledge that made that day so special during my childhood. But what made it special? The fact that I held Kay Abuelo, the grandson of Javier Abuelo as an acquaintance. Or did I myself didn’t posses the courage to form my own person and I was always about Sister Salvation business.
         Skeptical of the reality told be three generation.

         But why should I be?

         After all they would gain nothing nor would I of discovering truth or lie.
         
I watch in terror as my mind put ideas before me. I had not being this afraid sense I left my home, were my parents would constantly ignore me in hopes that I would mature faster. Parents? I called them that still? Amusing, I do not recall anyone ever saying that I was their son. I can’t remember traveling to the Cathedral of Edges. Or meting Sister Salvation.

Who was she?

I believe she was ‘Search’. To face myself, to persuade that which in my sleep. And through a combination of smiles and agonizing silence did I feel the chains of Trauma. Of songs of despair.

         Search brought me to a culmination of theories. Javier Abuelo had being punished for betraying Baron Spinetta be being burry alive. A storm, a heavenly rain that pour from the false lies know as skies took him in the form of a water coffin. Why did Javier betray Spinetta? That was the wandering truth that I sought and the answer that shatter not only a world but a mind. I can still heard them at night, their grotesque memories running in the shadows of voices lost to my childhood. Cathedrals covered in enigmas left to mist-born soldiers. I became a living acquaintance of terror. In that day was born a man not of flesh but of ideals, who breath and sleep theories and rationality who’s inspiration came from memories.

Acquaintance of Terror

As I approach the fictional barrier within my head that prevented me from moving forward, I arm myself with weapons. How preposterous!

         I was keep alive by forces beyond any control and comprehension so that I could enjoy the torture of knowledge. My misery attracted the delightful attention of Kaiser Sud-Ye, who believe me no more then a jester.

I presume that I knew the secret behind the memories. I twisted and turned in delight and more then once I liked my lips in gratitude that I was given a mind.
         
What fool was I and what fool shall I be?

Inventions of lunacy. Corruption of castle in the skies, hopes of smoke. I lived a day of pins and pipe. Inspectors of malice sought to form a me, here in a fool’s paradise with no memory of ever taking in a personality. But there words didn’t reach my, I’m an island, a rock. A stone within a fortress to crumble. I shall consume my perdition and bloom into a lake and within the eyes of the prisons I shall see my beauty.

         My identity vanish through brilliant skies. And in that unclouded land I meet an illusion. The greater illusion that being told, memories.

         A saw the waves that covered this sphere of malice with hopes chained to iron walls. And as I reach out for the sun, it give out! As I felt the wind in my face, I felt it disappear without a trace. An as the rain pour down I took shelter in the emptiness of my mind.
Was is Light?

Those light exist to redeem the wicked? Or to antagonist the corrupted, reminded them that soon or later the light shall conquer. So many people I forgotten today, so many memories that seem like one. Rays of light that make the vague reality. Light with life.

Is hard not to burn under the light. But as I stand before this man who’s claims are larger then life. I can’t do no more then burn and hope like a phoenix I’m reborn. My hope is thin and small, fragile and weak. 

Do I really hear it? A lie in a million tells? A truth of a sword.

Do I survive to hear this truth? I asked the doubtful to my acquaintance, who knew what to say.

Nothing.

In that moment I reflected on the agony that this search had cause me, I had lost what little I had. And what did I ever had? Can I called it mine?

For the first time I…their was a storm building in me. And like gale I rip apart the terror within me.

Soul Storm

I’ve navigated myself to the start of all of it. Why did no one question the skeptical documents from which the tale of Baron Spinetta and Kaiser Sud-Ka came from? How come we all had memories of hearing this tale, yet not a single one could ever recalled reading it. Little long hearing of the name of this obscure document.

         I fear life and those I was no different from Orlando at the Sea.

Who with little money bought a boat and search the seas, those which I never seen. And found an island uninhabited and claimed as his, one which I never heard of. And he brought his family to the island were he formed a humble home. As happy as a man could be Orlando only fear one thing, the future.
         He could look from his room the waves of the ocean and know that a storm was coming. He could like at the sky and predict a sunny day, he could not predict happiness.
         And in fear of losing all that he love and that once he was dead everything would be taken from him. He slew his wife and children and then plunge a dagger into his heart, not before shouting to the skies.
         “I Orlando, who knows the love of the gods shall not be comforted with misery.
         I take my life to be mine and not the sons of sorrow. That I may die happy.”

         Had I only become a victim of morality.