August 1st, 2009 18:53 EST
Shake off Your Dully Sleep
All ye powers of heavens endless, stop this moment for thou art beautiful. It is with these words that Menelaus begged the gods to stop time for him as he beheld Helen`s immortal beauty upon Troy`s battered battlements watching him on the battlefield below. This was the moment that had sealed his fate to be among those worthy of immortal fame and nobility. Never again would he be more honorable than in that moment and never again would he need to be as history`s tattered tale had seared him into its scripts forever.
Left to rot in memory with his beloved, Menelaus had even less chance of impact on the world he watched morphing before his eyes than he had hope of forgetting Helen and leaving the charade of war behind as newer and newer gods emerged. Redeemers and destroyers are the titles that tales of prophesy bear, but the question remains, which of the two is meant to come? Or is it both? Can the destruction of some cursed evil be the redemption of another? If it be so, then redemption and destruction are one and nothing less than a false perception of the mind that creates images for itself to worship out of its own pathetic self loathing.
Law makes right and prophesy is the law of the prophets as they wield its promise to the masses like a weapon to foretell the coming of The One. Who is that one? What shall he, she or it bring other than what the word foretells? Or perhaps, the word is wrong. Who ever said that prophesy must come down and shatter the world anew into the concoction of some old fool`s ramblings?
Maybe, just maybe, to risk mine neck against the axe and flames of zealous belief, I might say that doubt still shrouds my mind and simply do not believe what others tell me to be true. For who shall tell me what to believe if doubt lingers with no proof in the truth of ancient words. What if the destroyer was in fact the redeemer clad in the destroyer`s borrowed robe and hated all it stood for to begin with? Who shall answer for the wrongs of old in the present future as words crumble beneath action and those who spoke them are long at peace after condemning us to hell?
Lacking perception of things we fail to see, hear, taste or touch, the senses are but limited extensions of ourselves into the world while it spins round and round on an axis as firm as the fact of our own existence. The march of time we follow is nothing but an endless chain woven from the beards of women, pawsteps of a cat, roots of mountains, breaths of fish, spit of birds and darkness of the light. It is an odyssey for us across the ocean of a lifetime in search of something more precious than itself, something more foretold than promised. Some may search their entire lives without finding that elusive truth. Some say they heard it in a bard`s tale in some forgotten forest. Others claim to have read it in a dusty text.
While many swear they saw it on the street at it walked by with a passing glance and smile. But the truth is nothing more than a secret passage never to be found until a light of understanding shines through the dark of something as unpredictable as blind faith in inactionable chance. That is nothing more than laziness in black despair.
In contrast to this backdrop of black despair, prophesies are words of uncertain truth sworn in secrecy and sealed with doubt to hide from you the glory of what time has in store for you. All you have to do is believe in finding that key to the door of true nature of what is this thing that fills your dreams with pristine hope of having it one day. But time is always against you as the clock ticks on and every moment you linger steals from you that which Menelaus will enjoy forever.
Ever in doubt, ever searching, ever waiting for signs of god, you keep the faith in time`s merciful nature until you see that your powers match His trough sheer force of will and all that is done is done by you alone and action is your choice, while the gods linger in sloth and arrogance bred within our minds. But if you fear to venture and seek your truth, it is never too late to turn back, go in peace and prove your faint of heart while believing in the mystic wrongs of others` prophecies and bowing to them. If you do choose to be the weak and fearful, remember, glory only rewards the brave who fight for what they want with the truth that ends all nonsense of the dark.
So the thunder rolls on a cold dark night, the fabric of existence will shudder and quake in fear as the gentle wing of a newborn butterfly tips the world over.