Notes of the Under-Enlightened [prose]
Timong Lightbringer
The collection of stories
I am
The engineer of spirit I am.
The bringer of the word I am.
The fellow traveller I am.
The maker of confusion I am.
The linker of poems I am.
The breaker of the walls of past I am.
The awaking of sleepers I am.
The dispeller of darkness I am.
The flaming blade I am.
The destroyer of illusions I am.
The teacher of happiness I am.
The killer of prejudice I am.
The seeder of hints I am.
The changer of lives I am.
The finger showing the moon I am.
One of the children of One God I am.
The one of many I am.
The one of you I am.
The herald I am.
I feel…
I feel I don’t belong there, yet this is my world for now.
I feel like I am a sinner and a saint - all in one.
I feel I used to fall, only to rise higher after.
I feel I don’t need to repeat the mistakes of the forgotten past again.
I feel I have recently passed through some trial … yet there are more awaiting me on the path.
I feel like I have already experienced all the common pleasures other ones dream of - and found them worthless.
I feel I have forgotten my true nature and lost my past in the labyrinths of lifes.
I feel like I was able to fly somehow, though I can’t recall the time.
I feel my road is of rare origin, yet it won’t be easy.
I feel many diamonds of the future path are still undiscovered.
I feel my wish for transformation have triggered some fate threads, and I must prove my worth for the Universe.
I feel the Universe is a constantly evolving, living being and we are all bound by some unseen force in it.
I feel I must dive deeper inside me for the past to unfold.
I feel I’m many-faced … so many personalities swirling inside me, constantly fighting for my attention. I am all them - and yet someone different.
I feel I have awakened, yet partially. I won’t exists as usual “me” when I will finally dare to open still closed eyes.
I feel I could never awaken even like this, had I to listen to other people’s “common sense”.
I feel I know the major marks of my path, yet the details are still undetermined.
I feel my goals are right, yet only for me. My own ego must be destroyed in my wake for new essence to be born.
I feel the happiness makes me lighter, yet still I cannot soar.
I feel I can’t call any country as motherland and even Earth is not home.
I feel I don’t need to belong to any organized group folks, yet I could … just to have some fun examining them.
I feel I could speak more languages, yet now bound to the two, with one sounding so familiar … Did I relearn one of those ?
I feel I could sometimes feel people’s emotions flowing around me, unseen by others.
I feel humans do not yet know the inner power they hold, for this knowledge could be dangerous.
I feel the paths of all ones intertwine in a strange ways and there are no random events.
I feel we are all have creativity of some origin, yet many ones buried it to look sane.
I feel some interesting events marking the future of this world are yet to come.
I feel we all have to be better if we are to survive.
I feel I will always be somewhat “out of touch” there, yet I can accept the laws most ones live with … just in case.
I feel somewhat like a child now, yet my mind is of elder.
I feel I will never stop seeking the wisdom, nor do I want to.
I feel I could walk the different direction, yet finally my destination would be the same.
I feel I am still human on the surface - and that is for the better.
I feel my path does never truly end, yet I am glad.
I feel I am being guided, yet cannot see the guide.
I feel I am not the only one who feels like this, yet those ones are few.
I feel I could say more … yet this is sufficient.
I feel I must keep silence … for now.
Monologue with a child
Hello.
Forgive me, for I have not spoken with you for such a long time. For long, inadmissibly long I have been occupied by things which seemed the only important ones to me, the only deserving attention. And in this race, in this never-ending inconceivable bustle I have almost forgotten about you, have almost left you alone. I have no time left even to speak.
I know, I always knew, how important it is for you ��� to feel, that you are not forgotten, that you are important to someone. That somewhere someone is awaiting you, awaiting your return. That he will happily embrace you when you will appear again on a threshold of his house.
And now you have returned.
You have travelled by novel and unknown ways for so long ��� and this world is so full of dangers. But no ��� you have passed all of them, travelled effortlessly ��� so easily, as if the knowledge of how to bypass them was always with you, since your very birth ��� as though they were not even obstacles, promising danger, - but some mysterious, wonderful game ��� and you sincerely enjoyed it.
Forgive me that you had to knock on my doors several times ��� that I did not hear you from the beginning. I have almost ceased to believe in your returning.
You know, I have been thinking about you since the very moment you left me. The anger, hatred, rage, melancholy, despair - all of them replaced each other as in a kaleidoscope. All of them dropped on me like an icy-cold stream, depriving of powers and heat.
Yes, there were also joyful moments ��� small sparkles, which have flown away from an unknown fire, and flashed before eyes for an instant, before being dissolved into non-existence again. I have even managed to be happy all years of your absence ��� but only now I have become truly happy, when you have returned at last. As if I have yet again found something, I have been searching for all my life ��� something of the utmost importance.
And if you have returned ��� you must have forgiven me.
Come closer, allow me to embrace you. You have changed ��� you are completely different now. We both are no longer the ones we used to be.
You have grown up ��� became stronger. Truly, this life has taught you much ��� though what can we teach the wizard, capable to change the world ?
Approach me, stand no at a house threshold, for this house is our common one. It will always be this way from now on. Now we will be together again, together again ��� like in the old times, incalculable years ago.
We will be together, for we are the one. I and You. You and I.
I ��� human ��� and You ��� the eternal child in my soul ���
One day you will awake
One day you will awake, and your former world will die for you forever. It will thaw in beams of the morning sun of new day, it will disappear like night autumn fog, it will evaporate as former tears on someone’s face dry up. It will be no more ��� as if it has never been before.
At first you will not feel it, you will not realize, what has changed inside you���what was so yesterday ��� and today became differently. But the old habitual world of yours will be no more, ever.
Something
will change inside you, something so imperceptible and hidden���sleeping ��� in you before. Something will turn in you at last, something so ancient as Universe itself. Something will finally manage to come to light ��� and you will not recognize this new world.
You will come to a window, open it and look out ��� you will see that rising sun which has decorated heavens ��� will realize how the fresh wind hammered into an open window sways your hair and tickles your face ��� will feel a moisture on your skin, brought by it from unknown lands ��� will hear, how amusingly beeping those cars of people, travelling to work, on the ground ��� will see, how these funny men run below, always trying to not be late somewhere ��� will notice, how some bird rushed through the skies just before your new window to this world ��� and will be so surprised, how did you not notice all of this earlier.
You will not understand at first. Since these times it would be your insoluble question ��� how was it possible not to feel, not to realize all this earlier ��� how was it possible to live almost blindly.
You just will not realize it. You will not realize, for what unknown purpose have you lived differently before, why that gamma of feelings pouring through your heart now, ��� why was it inaccessible to you earlier and wonderfully became accessible now ��� just stretch your hand.
This will become an eternal riddle of your life, which you will not want to solve ��� for it will not be necessary henceforth. For in these very moments your old world will be no more.
You will be unable to tell, where has this feeling of greatest respect to the world, in which you have the luck to live, and all things living, come from. You will not know where have all your constant anxieties suddenly vanished and where has your grief gone.
Where has your desire to struggle for your personal sort of justice dissapeared and from where the feeling of absolute internal tranquility and acceptance of everything what occurs has come from?
Where has the feeling of own greatness has vanished and why it has been suddenly washed off by the arisen ocean of love to another ?
Why don���t you want to continue proving something to someone, argue with somebody, to put clever and silly arguments pro’s and con’s, and instead you are ready to simply look at these disputes between others and to smile to their childishness?
How, why, what for your interests, that had been so important previously, were somehow forgotten and faded, as though they never existed ��� for what reason did a single feeling replaced them ��� to always see this world as beautiful, as you see it now ?
Why did other adult and serious people suddenly began to seem to you as small children, battling in own created sandboxes with each other - and sometimes even so funny and diligently throwing handfuls of sand at each other ��� and sometimes even wiping the face, full of tears, with their small lovely palms ?
Where has all your former anger gone and why do you now greet and shake hands of your former immemorial enemies ��� and your soul exults, seeing, how their faces are changed, when you affably smile to them and stretch your hand ���?
Why do you now approach the bed where your beloved one still sleeps, what for do you sit down on the edge near him, why do you bow to him and kiss, and then lean your head to his own ��� where has this tenderness, overflowing you, come from ?
What for, what for do you need all this ? Where has your old world gone ?
An instant fear will pierce you. You will be frightened by what has occurred to you. You will not know how to live on with this new feeling of yours. You will passionately want to return back, to life so habitual for you - so reasonable and logical. The mind will keep saying that you have not had time to do so many things - have not had time to build the house, to make your career, to do this, to do that, - and if you will accept your new world, you cannot do it anymore ��� simply will not see the point. And you will want to listen to him to strongly, for he has aided you in this life for so many times already ��� and you will almost make it ���
But then you would suddenly remember as the sun shined on you ��� surprisingly beautiful for all these years, how wind pulled out your hair, how you felt an autumn moisture on your lips, how you saw a flying deciduous round dance, and how love to the world overflowed you ��� and you will throw away these impudent attempts of mind to spoil this beauty ��� for you will not want to lose it anymore.
There will be many years after ��� but they all will be different.
Your sleepy life will come to an end ��� and will not be repeated anymore. You will at last manage to see this world such what it always was for those who saw ��� and what is became for you from now on.
Both rising and falling, both success and failure, both joy and grief will happen as usual ��� but all of them will be different. They all will become a reflection of the wonderful new world, to which you have once ��� in that memorable day ��� come, and in which you are living now.
Just ��� just because something, that has been sleeping in you for so long, will once come to light.
Just because one day you will awake ���
Denying self-portrait
I am not passive ��� I simply chose my goals carefully.
I am not zealot ��� I believe in the victory of human reason.
I am not aggressive ��� it���s hardly possible to speak differently with unreasonable ones.
I am not romanticist ��� I simply love life.
I am not a meek creature ��� it���s just useless to shout in a room alone.
I am not lonely ��� I am simply not part of the crowd.
I am not liar ��� I simply do not tell all the truth.
I am not reserved ��� I am simply not egocentric.
I am not rigid ��� there are simply times when one needs to be strong.
I am not defenseless ��� there are simply times when it���s required to pretend to be weak.
I am not silly ��� sometimes it���s simply necessary to deny common reason.
I am not uneasy ��� life simply demands movement.
I am not gloomy ��� I happen to be similarly ���normal��� sometimes.
I am not shy ��� my spirit simply soars too high sometimes.
I am not egoist ��� it���s simply necessary to think about myself sometimes
I am not pessimist ��� sometimes I simply forget to be happy.
I am not slave ��� it���s simply necessary sometimes to work for others.
I am not enemy ��� someone simply desire war sometimes.
I am not friend ��� someone simply desire to find allies in war sometimes.
I am not silent ��� I simply carefully select words.
I am not cynic ��� sometimes I simply call things by their proper names.
I am not insensible ��� sometimes it���s simply necessary to be closed from idly curios.
I am not mad ��� I simply do not always meet other���s expectations.
I am not indifferent ��� not all tears are simply true.
I am not impudent ��� it���s simply necessary to be the proprietor from time to time.
I am not helpless ��� it���s simply pleasantly to go down the stream sometimes.
I am not bored ��� someone simply does not understand from the first time sometimes.
I am not haughty ��� simply not everyone is capable to understand my language.
I am not warrior ��� it���s simply necessary to battle sometimes.
I am not hero ��� the times simply demand so.
Memory of the millenniums
Small nomadic tribe. Hunting and living, living and hunting on each new terrestrial haven. But they were short ��� for vastness of steppes awaited them, they were sho
rt ��� for battles were inevitable.
Battles of equestrian orders. A lethal enemy���s weapon - long bent sticks, firing killing needles. His companions died every day ��� he learnt to get used to it, he had to. In peaceful times the tribe expanded and spread again ��� ready for new battles, new life and new victories.
This was his life. In this world and in this time.
*
Turning to the opponent. Double swing of a sword in the right hand. A strike - and flatwise blow on the armor sideways. Moving sword back. The sword describes an arch over a head of the opponent and again strikes in another side. Now the blade starts moving to the ground ��� both hands take it ��� and another blow on the plates, closing a shoulder on the right hand.
On the left. Right. Left. Right.
An arch again. Again the sword is turned in hands and flies into attack ��� another blow. Continuing to shower rival with strikes, he moved sideways. Some more steps and he has appeared behind the back. A blade, brought by two hands over a head ��� this should be the last blow, opponent will be defeated.
The steel racing into attack ��� the opponent is turning to face him��� Clanging of clashed steel. His strike has been beaten off. The one he battled was not the weakling at all. A series of successful blows ��� is everything he has managed to make in this duel. There will be no easy victory ��� but a long and daring fight instead, a battle which he has thirsted with all his heart for a long time ��� a battle of worthy ones. It will be the battle of worthy ��� and let the strongest prevail !
One step back. The foot set back aside for stability. Clanging of steel tools which have met in their dance ��� now it���s his turn. A sharp withdrawal of a blade downwards ��� opponent���s sword slides off the block. Now a blade���s turn in a bottom. The blade has flushed, describing a circle in the air, - a blow. Opponent���s plate armor has absorbed the major portion of blow again ��� he resisted.
Now a tap of a sword for repeated blow ��� he had no time left. His flatwise blow on an armor has not shaken the contender, and that has given him time. Now he has to resist rival���s blow ��� his sword was describing an arch for another blow ��� but it was too late to use it as a block.
Notes of the Under-Enlightened [prose] Page 1
