Part Five: Grief Resurrected in the Heart of "I"

Dear and glorious man, whose heart I have discovered buried in the fabric of your pain, lost in the surging waves of “I exist!”, crying out to the infinite for the justification of death, not just for the death of your beloved pet but for the deaths of all beloveds throughout the cosmos. You question God like a brazen child who demands answers where no answers are to be found, and yet you carry something in your heart which I cannot fathom because you are the truth of something only you in the universe seem privy to know. Why do you exist, my eternal friend? Do you know? No, you don’t know, and nor can I grasp what I see in you. In your light I feel unborn, not yet initiated into worlds where mysteries tumble out of our souls’ delight and galaxies emerge out of the original cry to exist.

What are you, my friend, and why have I been sent to you for my learning, you who live in the ancient times of raw life, of burning dirt, of consciousness so dim that the sun scarcely notices you crawling in the shadows. Bring your heart to me, for I have fathomed many things far into your future and bring much hope to your people. I have come here because you have refused to rise to the plane of perfected being. You have refused perfection in order to feel the dying gasps of your beloved daily in your heart, to know absolutely that you loved beyond the bounds of life and evolution and the deity of your mind and heart, and now here we are, I, the a youth of the New American continent, hundreds of years old, full friend and confidant of a grand solar lord in our swirl in the galaxy, facing you, ancient and beast-like in the crawl of your mortal existence through primeval time, wounded and bleeding more with every cry of injustice, risking the growl of the dragon surging out of the ground of all existence, risking the rupture of your heart, all for one beast, one unlighted being, dead forever and forgotten by all in the universe but you, rotted back into the soil of pre-existence. Dead. Forever dead.

What secret do you hold, my beloved friend, devotee of the infinite joy of living and questioner of infinite mysteries rolling at your feet, gift to the ancient ones who scour the galaxy looking for crazy lovers of the void, of the hope that never dies because it is never fulfilled, and please, stand with me and show me this mystery for I fear I will die with you should I not return to my time made whole and true by the love bursting so mightily from your heart. Oh most beloved man, holiest of the holy seekers of God, why do you not share your heart? Why cannot you speak of what you know? Is that not your charge? To live, to love, to discover, and to reveal? I must cry out in protest! Why do you not answer my cry? Why do you risk oblivion in the face of the grandest path of hope and freedom, which our fathers have given to us to travel in this exultant galaxy, filled with light and staggering beauty and adventures beyond imagining by any beings of mortal form?

How dare you come bursting into my heart, probing the most intimate caverns of my existence! Who are you? Time traveler from some august dimension? Future evolutionary stalwart come back to us ants crawling in the mire of our pain? You think you know something? You think you are so advanced in love and hope and truth and the glory of existence! No, my friend, if such you be, you know nothing. You will never know what my life has been, nor will you ever know what humanity has endured so that you can play with flowers and dance in the streets and proclaim yourselves sons and daughters of some mighty being. You have nothing on me, and your life is so trivial, I eschew the brightest lights of your hope for something you can never in all eternity grasp because you are not me! And never will be me! And if you think you know how to love, what it is like to be crushed by the mighty hand that created the hard rocks of existence and then feel that hand destroy the most tender and sublime impulses of my being, who has left me ravaged beneath all the stars and roaring suns, who came to me, who loved me down to the root of my being and then suddenly and violently tore my heart into screaming shreds of dust and then cast them into the infinite sea to be forever nothing! Tell me! Tell me that you know what this is! And if you cannot say that you know, then be gone! Forever gone!

Go tell your mighty lords, you with empty hearts, who are nothing but lowly scavengers of others’ secrets, that they will never know, that they do not deserve to know what that is, or who I am, and if they will judge me, then they are not nearly as far beyond in years and lives to claim a sure place in this universe to stand. The secret of my existence is mine and mine alone. Where I stand there are no gods, no sentinels of truth, no streams of compassion or hope, no dreams of eternal bounty, or galactic evolution, no words to act as ripples of silence, and no couriers to carry the message of my existence back to a curious crowd of death hunters. Be gone, my friend! Return to your freedom and joy, for my mystery is mine, it is where I stand, and it is where I most truly exist.


                                                                                          [end of Part 5]