What is it about the past? Why do some of us yearn for what once was …
… memories, like mental snapshots of sepia-tone and faded photographs. People who used to walk with us and who are no longer there. How we feel so incomplete. How we yearn for what’s missing — the embodiment of a bright and motivating spirit within such gentle, caring, sombre and wise demeanour.
Why do we have to change the heritage, what is beautifully bequeathed to us, what is meaningful, what was blessed, our endowment.
Can the young and thoughtless leave things be and cease their need to constantly change — what should not be changed. Not when the hands of the Omnipotent worked its marvel through the Elder, His appointed Architect. See what lies before us. The wonder of His hands.
May He be praised forevermore, guides the Elder. Follow my way and remember. All lies in the hands of He who judges.
O sorrowful time … the deepest pain. To be deprived of the Pathfinder. The visions are relayed, and in acceptance, the Elder is taken to rest and he sleeps. Stay with us. We have need of your guidance. We have need of your memory. We shall never forget.
Then along come those, limited in years, believing in themselves, trusting in their abilities, projecting confidence in earthly knowledge and accomplishments.
They try so hard and so much to erase the past. Heritage has no value save for exploitation. Barriers are erected to contain the Voice of History and the Past — seize her, guard her and do not let her escape our watchful crushing control. Break her until she yields to our every commandment and wishes. Instigate the pain … and plan their banishment or elimination. Kill their souls. Murder them. And thus began the reign of Heartlessness.
Thus commenced the process of eradicating priceless memories and the well-laid path of the Elder. That way is shut. Do you recall where the road is and where it leads to? How ingrained are those memories? How soon will good turn to wallow in corruption? How long before the degradation to earthiness and wanton desires.
Does it not sicken one to realize the infiltration and the premeditated plan of destruction instigated by naive young minds bloated by their global exposure, manipulated by a secret society. O you young ones, unsuspecting tools of the Dark, so full of ego, so oblivious of limitations.
Reveal yourselves, you chosen degenerated now in your latter years. See how easily corrupted they are by materialism. Behold their swift unscrupulous work … executed through whispers hidden in the shadows, stealth and suspicion cloak them all … realize the instigation of the Rot, and the global annihilation of long standing structures and foundations.
Shameless sanctimonious hypocrites. They desecrate the inner sanctum, those insufferable impudent upstarts, their dwelling place is sacrilege to the memory of the Elder.
But do they even care? Not when they take flight at will in an instant, burning every resources they touch without concern.
Down with the Past! They declare to all. Glorify us and our limited accomplishments … paid for by the sweat of your brow and the tears of obedience. Obey us or be outcast. We care not for your years of service or devotion. Serve us or face the hinterlands.
Eliminate the Appointed Ones … the guardians set in place by the Elder. Seize their power, confine their reach and exposure. Bury them in the stealth of the night. Render them incapable and poison the Anointed One against them.
He sleeps after all … and barely watches. What he won’t know won’t harm him … slumber on dear one, hushed and cocooned in a state of staged perfection. Trust us. We are your executors … we are your ruthless minions, ready to revel in the slaughter and the desecration. We hide behind humility … we render what the Anointed wishes to see and hear. Trick him with gentle seduction of reassurances … that all will be peace and harmony. Slumber on … and leave the pilfering to us under the guise of subservient administration and lavish admiration. Trust us, we beseech you … concealing how we relish the anticipated spoils.
For now is the chance, now is the opportunity, all is unguarded … lo, the Anointed One sleeps, the Appointed are shackled, the Voice of History is silenced … let the pillaging commence.
All these, now laid bare and realized — they plotted the downfall of the Appointed Ones all those years ago when the Elder was still with us. He spoke of their return. He predicted their work. He knew the weakness of the Anointed. His weakness in adhering to the counsel of his father. He sanctioned the desecration of his father’s memory.
We despair. Tis a time of immense trial … yet we shall prevail over the shadows and the trickery.
Poisonous words and intentions made to sound and taste like honey … arsenic undetectable to all … but the enlightened. Treacherous kisses made on hands and cheek in feigned obedience, loyalty and love to a lonely prince. He, bereft of the direct guidance of the Elder, burdened by the weight placed upon him by a slumbering sovereign, now rules with his army of progeny, cosseting them with costly indulgence, obtained from consecrated coffers.
I am here to do your bidding, render me your confidence … give me your all, whispers the Insolent Intruder to the consort, and, let me siphon your bloodline and your life blood … a parasite. Undetected. Buried deep … like slithering taloned creatures under grimy rocks afraid of the light.
But we are light! See our humble effected demeanour. We can do no wrong. We can only be right. The contaminated hears and declares in defiance.
It is our time, our moment of triumph! We reign. We are light! We own all … even those offered in sacred sacrifice. All is ours. We rule and shine like a beacon rallying all to our side … join us, be one with us, or perish and die … for we have the power and derive sadistic pleasure with the threats of banishment, over you and all you hold dear, none will be spared. Fear us. We lord over you. Sense and submit to our control.
You are nothing to us but the past — destined to oblivion.
All to what end?
The enlightened ones will comprehend the signs that lead to a momentous revelation. That all darkness hidden must be flushed to the surface and the light. From dusk, darkness to dawn and the brightness of a new life. All must come to pass and what remains hidden in decay, rotting at the core, must now be extracted … painfully. All was meant to be.
Still my heart. Calm my spirit, give me inner peace, wisdom, understanding, courage, and the light of faith and trust. I will not see all the chaos before me … for order will commence in the blink of an eye. Patience. Endurance. Acceptance. Love. Hope. Faith. Let us show good cheer in the face of adversity. For to show suffering will reveal our defeat. We are not defeated. The battle cry … Fight a Good Fight of Faith. And fight we shall …
And of all the injustice? What of our wretched experiences? Our pain, our banishment. Still my heart. Those are but moments and phases in our lives. They will not last. There will always be alpha and omega. All occurrences lead to a revelation. They always have. The cycle of construction and destruction from time immemorial exist to inculcate the realization that what matters … is acceptance that all is Divine instigation.
Thus immerse yourself not in the moment from dusk to the darkness of the night and the workings of the creatures of the shadows, pass on to the breaking of the dawn and a new day. The night is long, but the light of the morning sun will not be held back.
Refrain from judgement … watch, observe, comprehend and learn. Extract from all enlightened, the records of transgression. There are concealed lessons in all acts, even those of treachery.
Truly they have indeed forgotten … the recording of every act, the observation of every decision. And while they distort the Truth or force it hidden from all … they fail to remember, there is One that never sleeps. The One that is slow to anger and react. The One who will effect correction as He wills. The fearsome One who judges. Time moves closer to a reckoning.
Mercy, pity, the enlightened ones plead as they raise their eyes to the celestial realm. Spare their lives …
Yet … where is the love? Has kindness failed to soften hearts gripped in steely vice. Has gentleness fled the chosen ones? Time flies … and Time will come.
Then all who delighted in the oppression of all, will face their hour of reckoning. Mercy. Pity. Love. May remorse exist to save them from their episode of madness and their unforgivable destruction of all things Past.
[Composed in 2010.]