Thursday, January 11, 2018

“The Sword”


(Intentional Personal Mythology)
by David Sky


I approach the waiting army alone my tattered white flag thrown casually over my shoulder. I am tired and the sword even sheaved feels almost too ponderous a weight to bare and each step forward is a trial of sorts or a test of my will for I am tired bone to soul, tired far deeper than any number of good nights rests could possibly assuage. I know that the voice who holds me up has told me that the only way out is through and I know that this voice is never wrong and I know that I am not through. A Sagittarius does not give up we try and we either succeed or we die trying, such is Jupiter manifesting in us. I did not want this fight and did not ask for this fight and prayed literally for years on end to God to let me beat this sword finally into a plowshare but the way of things is not up to me only how I choose to deal with the way of things is mine and is my free will in it – and I choose to fight, for better or worse. I am not brave and I am not confident but I do have implacable faith in that which is larger than I that holds me dear and protects me true.

The army before me is vast with the sun bright behind them so that I cannot really even see them when squinting glance up as I approach but I can see well enough that they are a legion against only my one. I had chosen to follow the mushroom path alone with few if anyone really understanding it for even for me the measure of what that means lies just below the threshold of articulation. I know the path without doubt when I see it – or feel it rather, to be more precise. The path is the flow of destiny and the feeling of stepping onto it is unmistakable just as if with eyes closed one steps into the shower it is so obviously the shower. It is this feeling that guides me for there exist no signposts on the ground delineating the mushroom path, no map symbolically representing it’s position in time and space, only my own heart feeling it’s way forward. Words in books are meaningless. The considered philosophies and pious religions of the world that so many hold dear mean no more to me than the sounds of the breezes rustling the leaves of the trees. Never sought but often given, the most thoughtful advice and or admonitions of others may well be appreciated for its intentions but yet is little value for the heart has no ears to hear and the heart knows the way and in fact is the only part of me that has any inkling as to our destination. It is nice, you know, like going on a cross country drive with a driver you trust completely so that you can really enjoy the journey fully. I follow my heart out of blind faith. My love for my heart is until death do us part. It is the best part of me hands down and so I made a decision to follow it until death of this physical body and so now if my heart leads me into battle than so be, weary as I may be, I will do the best I can as I always do. If my mind questions the heart’s decisions, as it is want to do, I tell it to be still, maybe encourage it to look out the windows at those pronghorns leaping twenty feet across the desert floor outside the window – isn’t that INCREDIBLE, mind, wow – look at that I wonder how they can leap so high and so far?


The only thing I have save the sanctity of my own soul is choice.

I stand before the general now and look up at him fully a foot taller than I, grizzled and impassive. He holds no more in the way of fear than do I, it is obvious looking up into his cold irisless black eyes his head framed by an aura of the afternoon sun behind him like a halo. It is really very beautiful, I think, in it's way. 

“Have you come to surrender” he asks impassively expecting the obvious answer just matter of fact taking care of a formality of business so he can get back to his plush tent and consider future engagements with actual armies.

“No,” I respond, “I have come to state my demands for your surrender”.

His offices I the front line begin to laugh and incredulity spreads into the second and third row who heard me and one says out loud, “this is preposterous” and another, “he’s utterly alone for God’s sake,” and another "'Our' Surrender, really!" -

The General’s voice brings them all to heel, “Silence!” And then he again addresses me condescending now, “Your demands, please continue?”.

“Everything. I want it all and your complete capitulation. I will not settle. I will not negotiate. So everything or we fight to the death - no quarter, no surrender,” looking up into those black, pitiless orbs of his that are looking down at me with a truly inscrutable expression that if in a better mood, I might find amusing but right this very moment just don’t really have it in me to care what the hell he is thinking. Generals are all psychopaths always ready to sacrifice their men for the greater good. I only risk my own life which is mine by divine right to risk. Right and wrong is seared into my soul so I have no need for the proclamations of kings or Emperors to direct me. I am a Sagittarius we are born knowing right from wrong so when we do wrong, there is never any excuse for it no matter if it is chiseled in stone as law for all to abide. 

“If you choose to die, so be it,” the General says dismissively.

“I choose not to die but rather not to die a living death so I choose to live, General. Tomorrow at dawn” I say over my shoulder already having turned away hoping not to pass out under the hot sun walking away. I seriously don’t know if I can make it all the way back to camp without falling over. My only prayer is for strength to follow my heart and so this I  pray. Once at camp, I collapse my sword down next to me on its quiet side. I do hope I can get a good night’s sleep, though. Tomorrow is gonna be interesting, I think, daunting a bit, my Heart, daunting even  …

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