Simon: I need you to read something Perci
Perci: Sure, just let me finish up the dishes. Brb
Ok, back. What is it?
Simon: Sending you a .doc right now.
My father is a medicine man. He taught me that there are many toxins and evil spirits in this world. He taught me the value of Maintaining a relationship with the earth lest our sterile world kill off our last good medicine.
I’ve eaten the hash of the assassins. I’ve been sent to the earthly garden and seen through the moon and illusion of it. I have embraced the sacred feminine and married it to my warrior self.
The being I have created will be silent, moving through the crowd of this globe, amongst so many innocents in pursuit of my target. And when I am placed, undetected amongst the world’s tightest security, speaking casually of sports and weather with humanities most paranoid, I am my most calm and serene.
And when I am in distance to strike, to pierce the frail mortal shell of the VIP target, a president, a pope, a CEO or the head of a crime syndicate, I pull out my gun, aim it point blank at his forehead and pull the trigger. A flag pops out inches from their head and says live.
Minds are blow, empires fall, paradigms shift. As men in suits, soldiers with guns, news teams swirl around us, the target and I share an intimacy not even the closest lovers share. There is a look in his eyes and he is thankful for his life. No one dies, except me, maybe. But it hardly matters.
I’m transformed into a being of light and consciousness. The singularity has already happened and I’ve met my future self and we’ve shifted the timeline.
A suicide-less bomber. And when they search my body, the will only find a message; a single piece of paper.
Be lucid!
Perci: That’s really bizarre, who wrote it.
Simon: That’s the part that bothers me the most. I think I may have.
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Perci had put him at ease, as always, but not long after they spoke the same old doubt crept back in, a little further back, a little less cold, and he took a breathe, reminding himself to believe in himself.
ReplyDelete"Only someone a decent as you would even stop to consider if you were a danger to anyone," Perci had said in his smooth certain tone.
Simon wanted to believe it, he had always strived to be the sort of person any mother would want her daughter to bring home. In truth, he wanted to outdo Perci, who had always startled him with his ability to charm people.
But for Simon it went deeper, because that was the only way to beat Perci in goodness. Depth.
And so he had began to experiment with yoga, pranayama, chanting, fasting, and all of it from an academic standpoint, following the American and British experts that had spent the most time studying the actual modern practitioners of brain engineering.
He had begun to write poems with his left hand, without even noticing, while he was writing something else with his right.
And now, it seemed he had woken in his sleep and written this out, again in his flowing, round left-leaning left-handed script.
He knew it meant something, meant more than the other poems had. Besides, none of them had taken this sort of tone.
He had never read anything like this before in his life.
Perci tried to balance the feelings that always arose when he was with his friend, Simon. Feelings of pride and worry. He was indeed a powerful magician, far more abitious and hungry than he. Simon had endured the shamantic trial of pain and sickness that Perci had much read about but never experienced himself.
ReplyDeleteHe was just one of those people that intuition just guided. People accused him of coasting through life and couldn't deny his apparent success. He always tried to tell people, pentacles are really the easiest of magicks, because it was easiest to recognize the success.