13. Freeing the Slave

Now I am just a slave, working onwards towards my grave. There is no hope to save the likes of me. I can't be free.

Now imagine my delight, when deep within the night, shines a burning light that whispers hope to me, saying I'll be free.

Stars whirling round my brow. Making me free some how. Dreams whisper in the night, promise it will be alright. The Goddess has spoken again. She tells me she'll rescue me then. When I am most in need. Then I shall be freed.

But I do know my place; The gods don't know my face. These must be idle dreams, they're not for me it seems, but they won't go away. And I won't ever pray. And I will never call to goddesses at all.

But the dreams go on, breaking in and out of rhyme.

As if rhymes could set parameters

That would contain my thoughts, and bring me to where it was I wanted to be.

And I know it's just a dream. And I remember what it was I was dreaming. I'm a slave. Working in the desert, sweating and toiling. I try to recreate the image. A slave who dreams a goddess has spoken to him, in a voice of angels. And I'm trying to make myself that slave, so that the goddess can rescue me. But the verses are coming out in rhymes that don't work and the rhymes don't go together or make any sense at all. But I walk on in the dream, searching for the voice of the goddess so that she can rescue me from my chains.

Crimson fear disappears and takes me back to then. Freeze the rain and stop the pain, for I am lost again. Can you show me where I should be, I am not the same. I can find no peace of mind, and I can't play this game.

"Meet me in a darkened ruin, I will show you true. All the answers, sweet dream dancers all will dance for you."

Voice in the night, Will it all be right? Will all these dreams come true?

"Of course they will, they're there until all dreams will come to you. For you are of the few, the few who can be true, true to know the Name, Know the Name of fame. Name the fame of you, you will name the few. You are not alone but you alone are true. Alone you will get through; Get through until you do, for all you know is true."

Secrets in the wind, where do I begin, I have lost my sight in the darkened night, and I can't rise to claim the prize I've lost to fame.

Racing through the thorny brush, rips my clothes and in the hush of sensuality I see a frozen dream of poverty. I'm falling in the pit of doom, lost in all the hazy gloom, wondering if it is my fate to lose the miracle to hate. I shall be who I shall be, and all these dreams that torture me, with false hopes of being free, I cast you all aside. All dreams I have denied. You've only told me lies. And I just don't know why I ever ran to you; you never told me true, anything at all, and all I do is fall, and I won't fall until I've lost the choice of will.

I raise the sword of indifference, I've found it here upon the fence that separates what I should be from who I am that is in me. The sword is cold; it cuts my hand, and I grow old inside this man. The blood runs dry and I declare that it is I and I do dare to take the blade and raise it high; I will wade up through the sky and steal the stars that burn the night and bend the bars that bar my sight, and I will see the truth I knew that burns in me so bright and true.

My wound is healed and though concealed the sword I wield will crush your shield and free the field of all we've sealed, and when we've peeled all that will not yield, all will be revealed.

I wander in the westward wind as it begins to blow again. It takes me high and makes me cry, I don't know why I just can't fly and I must sigh a lullaby as all who try must wave good bye and help untie the wordy lie that makes us vie to win or tie, for a pie in the eye is all we buy when we die. Hi, good bye. Oh, my, oh my. Why oh, why? Please don't cry!

Whispers in the night. The savior is coming.

Who will make it right? The savior is coming.

I am just a slave. Have you chosen me?

I can see my grave. It holds its secrets over me.

It's opening and calling me ...

Rhymes are broken.

My body is broken.

My soul has spoken, but not to me.

Lips of purity have spoken; A vision of hope has passed before my eyes. I know they're only lies I speak, but what I speak is all I've seen. And in this dream I call my own, I saw a haze upon the throne ....

No. a haze upon the horizon...

calling me with a light that burns like a fire that ravages the earth and torments the creed we've learned to harbor in our breasts.

Broken dreams are crashing to the ground.

Frozen screams are bleeding with the sound.

Crushing me in paralytic disappointment,

As if I'd missed some prescheduled appointment.

The rhymes are drifting further away. As I'm walking down the corridors. And yet they haunt me like whispers in the night, shedding sweet and hidden inner light. Oh, please tell me who I am. And why I've been placed here.

"I know the Truth my friend. There is no point for any of us."

No........... No.......No. I have a purpose. There is a Plan, and I am part of it. I know it. A Peacetopian world exists somewhere, and I will find it. That is my purpose!

The chains are growing tighter. I am not in the soup of haze and memories. A sure and bitter reality is becoming real once again. But I am far from the desert sands and gods and goddeses. That is not my reality now. I am in a straightjacket being dragged down a corridor, away from all dreams. I'm screaming, I'm fighting. "Give me back my dreams! In my dreams I have a purpose. I do. I really do. I'm part of the Plan. There is a Plan. This is not my fate. You can't do this to me. You can't!"

But they can. They throw me into a cell padded with foam. They chain me to the bed and I'm screaming for my dreams. "Please don't take them from me..."

The lights are dim, my breathing is slowing down, restful, peaceful, and the dreams are returning, bringing me away from my cell, back into the haze of forced imaginings.

Angelic visions dance in me. If I could reach them I'd be free. I reach out my hand to quiet my mind. But angelic visions I can not find. I sit here in the darkness trying to capture something of me. I'm lost in the darkness of my own insanity. It is my uniqueness; it makes me who I am, but I just want to give it to someone and then, I'd know who I am.

Come to me visions of hidden delight.

I stare at you now as you race in the night.

Show me places that no one has seen.

Flash them across my mind is a screen.

Swords of indifference slicing though air.

Cutting us down so we just don't care.

The fire burns inside it just can't get free,

I have to go on and leave it behind me.

ENOUGH! I command. I'm staring at a computer screen. Words are dancing out of the blinking cursor, coming to life. I have created these worlds I dream. But as I think about what it is I've created, I wonder if anyone will ever care to read it. It's so confused. So jumbled. So unintelligible. Well, that's alright. This is my insanity. This is my utopian dream. And it will set me free.

Now, do as I say blinking cursor of light. Go back to Ward and his search for sanity and a reality where peace on earth exists if only in the mist of dreams. Return to the fountain from which the story flows, although I'm not so sure, at this point, there is a story there at all. I close my eyes now, and make the voices come alive.

"Now," I command.

I awaken from the madness to find I'm the slave once again, chained to my fate, imprisoned inside the walls of a breathing tomb. I rise up from my bed of soil and stare at the burning sun until I cannot see a thing.

"Now!" my goddess, my savior commands.

The pyramids are exploding. My mind is exploding.

The noise is overwhelming. The pain is insurmountable. But in the aftermath, I am lying in Maya's arms. The goddess has rescued me and brought me home.


©: 1992-2015 Robert Alan Silverstein

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