What If

A Story by Dreamer

Story of loss.

INTRODUCTION

As the night falls and engulfs our very existence, and the spirits of anxiety surround us, the feelings of the day’s events up swell into our soul, searching to be calmed with the scent of the human desire and the touch of sweetness. A warm hand extended into the fog of the midnight breeze, faceless as the warmth of an excited breath, reaching for comfort to end the frightful haze and regain a semblance of the face that once was. These are the desires of human existence attempting to chase away the shadows of the fallen angels, shadows that blacken the moon’s light as they follow with persistent indulgence and weaken the spirit of the living.

Tread lightly on the thin crust of reality, with trepidation and caution, for the intention of the universe overshadows our self perception of our being. And yet our being, with all its indescribable traits of solitude, untiringly searches for the illusive proof of existence, of proving reality.

Like an arid desert progressively encroaching upon the living, blanketing them with an excruciating thirst like a people that found a nation, beckoning them to admire the false beauty of a wind-fluffed dryness warmed by the sun, not knowing that hidden beneath the sands lie the failed remains of past heroes, heroes that satisfied their thirst, only to lose themselves in that endless chaos of emotional turmoil. And as the bones recombine, lifting their head above the hunger for life, seeing their past, hopefully not to repeat it, so that peace can come within the lifespan that has been graciously given. And as the wind blows across the rocky plains, dry as the day it was born, a man walks to breathe its soul, head standing high.

It came to pass that the universe stood still, though for a moment, as the desert plains blew winds of death. Let the beauty of nature take its course through time just as the endless greed of man is determined to flow innocent blood that might be mine, a lifeless greed that needs innocent souls for it to live. It came to pass that we were one, joined in life and death, and yet, it also came to pass that all were gone except for the remains of one. And, as the wind blows dry, sucking our breathe from deep within our existence, removing all passion from its roots, leaving a colorless madness of a human weakness called despair.

At one time or other in our lives, we chase rainbows, we run through thick fluffy clouds, feeling like doves soaring the emotional heavens. At one time or other in our lives, we sail through distant stars, with their blinding light raising the limits of curiosity. And, yet we find ourselves without the strength to see the dangers. And, although the rain pours down on our being, we continue to blindly walk the paths that nature has lain before us, only to wear as a thorny crown those sweet smelling flowers with hidden distractions, only to satisfy the desires of our mind with incalculable consequences to our existence.

Stop for a moment. Open your mind to the anxieties around you. See a world filled with beauty, filled with possibilities that only dreams can give birth, that only dreams can nurture to fulfilment. Let the past be filled with fantasies of illusion and forgetfulness. Give the future a chance for limitless beauty and joyful contemplation. But it is right now that gives that precious experience called life, there for you to experience to the fullest, there for you to bathe in the soft waters of reality.

We sometimes talk to ourselves, words of passion that are often lost in the dark corners of the listener’s mind, words that float within the moist air, sometimes musty air, hovering on the wings of beautifully coloured butterflies, waiting to be captured and treasured between the many leaves of memories, waiting to allow it to give us purpose to existence. We know that life’s energy trickles in and out, filling voids unknown to nature, searching to find enlightment so we can see without the boundaries of refrain. What have we learned from the tumultuous desires, hopes, wants, created by the endless demands of our selfish ego that will often betray us, betray ourselves?

Are we being guided by the feelings and memories of the past? Or are we actually living the emotions of today? It is difficult to define, it is difficult to see. But the future has not been written because those feelings and memories of the past shape the complexity of our future. Nothing exists neither for itself nor by itself, but has an inextricable connection that only time can define with certainty, but not recognized by most.

We come from different cultures that sometimes have the stigma and difficulty of definition, cultures that are little understood by those that are not born in it, cultures that often bring passionate distress when forced to explain the unexplainable attributes of being. Decisions we make are taken from a cacophony of intricate notes played for reasons only known to the player, thinking it is for us, and absorbing us into the game. We hear and accept the notes that are often based on our present needs, our present state of being, often distorted for the immediate gratification of wanting to be who others think we are. We lose ourselves in the expectations of others, wanting to be recognized, respected and loved, without considering the truthfulness of other’s intentions. Temporary is the accepted norm, and yet, we desire permanency. Today is the accepted life, and yet, we have anxieties for the future. The way it was is the way we can better understand, and yet, we forget the states of being that have been efficiently hidden for our emotional survival.

This is the beginning of a human story of loss, a loss that changed the time tracks of the illusive ‘what if’, destroyed by circumstances of painful emotions, and yet found through the purpose and intent of the universe; serendipity.