The Assassin and the Emperor

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.