QUILITL ATL
I never saw the Cat´s Craddle, neither I read the Windmills, nor the Moulin Rouge, but in Quilá right after passing the San Lorenzo River, the souls tormented themselves in their subtle pain. Leaves dried out, and the fowl choked in their own trill, the Genesis with pleasure approaching, in back of me its aroma cooing me.
I didn’t feel the pain , nor hunger anymore, I just screamed my echoes to the wind whispering, bring me back Vicky, she is the only soul that I loved. I just listened to the eternal vacuum melody, where happiness nestled inside the hollow of death and the rain dragged the filth impregnated on my skin, on my lifeless body; certainly a body that doesn’t belong to me, it isn’t mine anymore! How ironic! The whole world was mine and now just my laments are my companionship, throughout this desolated and bitter path, an arid and melancholic desert; but nothing hurts me, nothing wounds me, however waves of suffering get to me, a suffering that originates from the deepest of my essence, from the center of my soul. How much I miss that odor that I used to breath when I woke up in the middle of nowhere, in that obscure room, and next to me your strange face that I loved with great passion; I could spend my entire life contemplating that light coming out of your face, that light offering me eternal happiness, and those children playing innocently and radiantly in harmony with Earth and Mother Nature receiving them with joy; they meant life to me. That aroma penetrating my senses was the call of a true home, however, everything has its end, we could not avoid the natural causes of our existence, not by any means its effects. Today I’m awakening after a long walk, through those isolated streets where the walk- steps sounded tireless, their sound spreading everywhere frightening the spiders sinisterly weaving their nests, wearing away my senses, no one actually walked by, but the walk-steps resonated regardless, how could it be possible that they came out of nowhere; And all of the sudden the people were gathering forming a multitude, Their voices hurting my ears until bleeding, up in the air the birds flying enjoying the beautiful morning, and there me, in the middle of everything, stunned by the noise, I arose from my penitence trying to get away from this big marketplace, where everyone seem to get together at the same time with the same objective of tormenting my suffered thoughts, the wind chaining up the recipient of my tortured soul; while the fire slowly wasting away a worn material. The multitude screaming excited with great strength, when my existence, from this world moved away; it seems like in single occasions time stopped, and in those precise moments, it embraced me in its Eternal Mantle, meanwhile my skin tearing off and vertiginously, a dark horse was dragging the hell sorrows attracting them towards this miserable son, who dream of other lives, and that angels were thing of the past. But today at this very moment my dissipated doubts vanished away my truth for good, when the horseman was unriding the horse, I could barely recognize him, with his pale and fleshless semblance, a cold and strange wind was passing over every centimeter of my spinal cord, collapsing every stimulus of my hallucinated neurons. with no doubt, that was the knight of death who came for this poor soul, poisoned with lust and greed; my worn-out and depressed faith sinking into the bottom-end of history. No one is guilty of my disgrace, not even when the religions never had nothing to offer me; nothing more than disguises of falsehood and hypocrisy; I should have created a parallel destiny in God’s will, even though, is possible to walk on the divine stairways full of eternity, that had been formed in our ingenuous and ingenious mind with a single and unique destiny: Paradise. I find the vacuum cleared, - Oh terrible loneliness! moved Away I’m from my quality! the poisonous venoms of the Goddess of misery were my specialty! however, this is atrocious as life itself. Nothing has prepared me to conquer this nauseous and rotten dream, from which I’m not awaking again, unless the Gods sacrifice themselves returning me the existence; I would have to pass one thousand mountains during one thousand nights just to make it to the city. Oh misfortune! damn misfortune! where are those who loved me? where are those whom I have loved? I just find ashes in this abyss; is it that time has vanished away from this world? where did all my feelings remain at? is it perhaps, that dragons ate them? and that’s why they couldn’t accompany me; a voice resonating in the echoes of silence was saying- poor me! I need some pleasure, there’s nothing more ardent than a young girl in the flames of hell, seducing you to commit all sins, existing and to be, but I have forgot the taste of either sweet and sour, telling the truth, I’ve forgotten all!- could it be a spirit imprisoned in this jail with no chains what I’m actually hearing? I was asking to myself- suddenly, hundreds of drums started to be heard, not too far away from where I was at, as going river up, barely visible, a tenuous light, something like a bonfire; the voice wasn’t hearable anymore, I preferred to omit all what just happened, deciding better to submerge me into the thick jungle, river up, heading towards to where the drums were heard, where the bonfire illuminated, perhaps on one of the villages, or probably on a group of journeymen, someone that I could converse with. Farther ahead I found a canoe made of wood, I aboarded it, navigating instantly, towards the place of the sacred river. Arriving, no one saw me disembarking in that forsaken obscurity of the night; isolated from my country and my land. Even so, I decided to explore that new land, walking by the river shore, with my blood elucidated coming out of my nose; crawling towards the triangular precinct, where a woman made of gold was worshipped, and perhaps in a remote past, she had the color of life and now of the immortal remains.
At the center of the precinct, there was the ardent bonfire, in its surroundings there was only a man with indian characteristics, playing with his hands a tiny drum made of hide, its sound spread throughout every jungle and river corner; this magnificent temple seemed as it has been devoured by the fire of the invisible men, who profaned it without knowing their destiny, buried today in the forgetfulness; they moved away to never come back, because their God exiled them for the eternity. The fog caressed the stranger playing the drum dancing in a ritually manner, around the bonfire by all the precinct surroundings, but right outside of it, there were many more strangers playing drums in a harmonious melody, I lied down on the ground, and right over me, the starry mantle observing me. I realized with great amazement, that my suffering was healed, my tired eyes couldn’t hold the heavy eyelids open anymore and besides I decided to dream of the vigilance of a guardian. I could perceive from this temple, a divinity impossible to corrupt, and in the parishioners´ magic who were coming to pray to this shrine, the invisible light could be sensed, before the walk steps of that Immaculate Virgin named by everyone Virgen de Candelaria, and in my misslept dream, tired of my thought’s will, deepen in the profundity of my most distant feelings, timidly smoothing down more than one of my fears, hidden in the path of forgetfulness, in the mystery chest, inside the illusion’s den. The bird sang with the song of life, with the song of death. With its celestial lips, that Virgin, worshiped and loved, by the Earth, by the sea, by the Sun and by the entire Universe; eternally
sighed, pronouncing this words –Quilitl Atl! Quilitl Atl! Quilitl Atl! I will always be with you! I got to wake up from that cooing dream to listen to such a beautiful voice, that transported me for a few seconds to the land consecrated to love and happiness: the true Celestial Paradise. Not finishing yet, the whispering of her voice, when likely, by divine mandate, the drums started to sound every time with greater strength, unisonlike, and with just one voice, hearable the repeating of their voices- -Quilitl Atl! Quilit Atl! It seems that there was fire in their voices, fire that crackled, grew and expanded at every corner of universe. The voices shut down and walked away but the fire continued vivid in their enormous hearts; at the altar remaining only the guardian and myself. A superior purpose existed, it could be felt, and could almost be touched, although it couldn’t be seen; their dreams seemed impossible to be achieved, but now I was firmly convinced, that nothing was impossible anymore, even when I dream about this small great man, righteous and perfect. By imposing him to reality, he persuaded me the opposite, and made my opinion change in concern of him unexpectedly. No project turns out magical from one day to another, and the conversion process could be exhausting in such a great manner to the spirit and soul, until destroying them completely. I asked the guardian for his name, however he decided not to respond me, he completely forgot every memory of his past life. He just told me that he was completely committed to the Quilitl Atl.
He told me that the Quilitl Atl, is the place that we are stepping on in this very moment, and this place is the promise land as well as the divine space considered Paradise by many. The sacred precinct was the center of faith, love and happiness, and that there was the fountain of all power. This precinct was created with the blood of love, its bricks are the faith and the happiness its foundation. I trembled to his words, so full of strength and peace; He convinced me to follow him to a thick, cold and dry prairie telling me that those hating and destroying the Quilitl Atl, have to purge the penitence of the exile of the spirit, wandering throughout the desert of torment. He was decided to show it to me and I couldn´t refuse to his purpose. We walked for a long time, the cold weather freezing out my bones and the heavy fog blurring my sight. Never in my life could imagine the existence of such place; hundreds of chills passing through my back, and I felt an enormous lump in my throat.- poor me! I need some pleasure—Did you hear that? The guardian asked – yes, I heard it- I clearly told him that I have heard that before; they are souls collecting their mistakes and sins; every grain of sand from this endless desert constitute each one of their sins, and not until they collect all the sand, they will be liberated from their penitence. -who are you? What are you here looking for? Why do you talk about us and breath our fog? –. With the lure of destiny, our fortune started to roll by listening to such voice, by this, the guardian replied to me, - you have to talk to him and ask him what´s the reason of his torture, if there are others like him here? resigned to speak to this spirit I told him – oh soul, disconsolate and enshroud by the wounds of time, complying with your long sentences to get back again to another new universe, wonderful and transformed before your Divine Creator! I´ll give you the opportunity to listen to what I have to tell you if you still wish to follow me.- -I´ll just walk with you, only to where I´m allowed to by my executor – He replied to me. If the fog and humidity overcast our sight and our reasoning, the rest of the senses will be of much utility for our eternal journey. We initiated our walk and started rapidly with the conversation – I´m returning to the place of my origin where life is prey of death, I´ve made it here thanks to the Quilitl Atl and the Virgen de Candelaria, perhaps the Eternal Creator wishes for me to live in a self-owned spirit, the bitterness of the penitence, by a different way to normal; -I would like to know who where you when you where alive, and tell me as well if there are more souls like yours here?- And what sin have they committed to receive such tormenting?- your voice will be the rejoice that my heart needs to move ahead. -Heraclio Bernal, was my name in life,- exiled from the divine fruit, for loving the imperfect defects of the world, I hated virtue, enslaving the holly; of course there are others like me, among them are Pilar Quintero, Lourdes Ayón, Rosalba Lizárraga, Kurt Cobain, Glen Benton, Bonifacio II, André de Montbard, José Martí, Brian Warner, Arthur Rimbaud, Francisco Rojo, Pío II y Juan Carrasco, whom in life, committed sins way sinister than my own. He answered me like this, telling me instantly with an imploring voice, --when you get to be there, among the alive ones, and by the usage of the power of your word, I ask you to plead in my behalf; I still have the hope that someone exalts a prayer for me, so I get to reach up the eternal rest - I´ll do it, don´t worry-, I told him.
We continued our way through unimaginable places, I got to know shocking torments and astray spirits paying their guilt; until arriving back to the sacred precinct and I felt great relief by stepping on this sacred land once again.
When we got to the center, next to the image, fire invaded all; frightened, I soon realized that these didn´t tear-off nor attack my flesh, but all the contrary, this fire embraced me without heat, it was just attacking my inner fire with its combustion and I felt lots of peace.
The guardian said good bye to me in a fleeting manner, getting close to the end of our journey, -I don´t keep images of my memories in my mind, only remains the echoes of the words that I heard, however, at this time I feel his voice latent in my heart.
-In life I´ve been Daniel Castillo, in instants later, the whisper of the wind, and at the same time the entire universe; because I won´t walk among you any longer.
The coffin awaits for me, with its eternal loneliness.
THE PAINTING AND THE BOOKSHELF
The abyss´stones guided me into the core of knowledge, getting me away from the nearness of your heart’s candor, a stone that stumbles, over and over again with my impure thoughts; escorting step by step my tired illusion, shattered by the false fantasies, which promised to give me without a doubt, the infinite love, destroying the path of light, making us bearers of the magic of pain; and in those black eyes, could be seen the blasphemy of our obscurity, passing over roads full of thorns and betrayal, that pierce without pity into the flesh and into the soul, dragging us to the curse of a sick mind of perversion and ambition… but the story starts like this, allow me to narrate you from the beginning.
By confronting all the events of my dissolute life, I escaped out of the pernicious hole of compassion. Misery spreads and multiplies. Not as the disgrace that really looks the way to affect all the diverse forms. I still believe at this point of life, that evil is a direct repercussion of good, and that from pleasure emerges the agony of pain. The name that I’ve been baptized with is Francisco Ortiz; my family’s is not important. There are on earth so few constructions that are so ancient, like my lugubrious, gloomy and grayish castle located in Quilá, right next to the Santa Rosa hacienda.
All my ancestors, have been always called, people with extraordinary vision with the enough courage, for our voice to be heard at any point of this world; and in more than one weird or strange situation, we reveal some of our most obscure secrets. In the character of such majestic construction, with the gelid air, that is breathed in the winter, in the main patio, in the so excelling ornaments, that delight the look, ours and else, in all the bedrooms, in the warmness that cheer the feelings, the smoky chimney is found; in the painting of uncalculated value, hanging on the simple wall and after all, in the piled up series of books, in that rustic bookshelf, made in the XII century. The bookshelf and the painting contained a secret that’s only known by me, that I’ve been keeping until today.
I still remember when I acquired them from a stranger. It was a person, of medium height, and in his face a scar standing out, that cleaved from his eyebrow to his cheek, he had an unforgettable face. In fact, all his aspect was of a middle class or bourgeois. He was dressed in black and from his vehicle a piece of furniture stand out among his luggage. Due to his difficulty to speak my language, I knew immediately that his origin was from some place of Europe. By his modern haircut and the way he dresses, I thought he was a teenager but I was deceived; he was distant to be young. We conversed for a long while, it amused me a lot his difficulty to pronounce some words and his exaggerated accent in others; I soon found out that he was originally from Florence, Italy.
I invited the man to come in into my castle, as a courtesy from me; he refused politely, alleging that he was in a hurry and that he couldn’t delay much. He said in a hasty tonality and a heavy exhaling in his words, as well as I am doing it at this very moment. - I sell paintings, well in fact, I’m just selling one, out of my entire collection- he told me.
Answering him in a good manner, I told him: - in this castle, what abounds in, are paintings; some Europeans like the Gioconda, even including the original master piece of the best Mexican Painter of all times: Huriel Acosta, others of endless talent from Sir Álvaro Manjarrez; I have as well some of the famous Marco Antonio Bobadilla and some others from English painters, whom in the art field, are not so good.
It passed by about a minute of silence and a little later he answered me: - well, the one I’m selling is not an ordinary painting, this is an extraordinary painting that perhaps might interest you.
This piece of incalculable value, I bought it to a French poet, called Charles Baudelaire; together with the piece of furniture that’s on the carriage; when I used to live in Champagne. He opened the door to the carriage, he went all the way in, and a few seconds later, he came out with a painting, enclosed in a case made of brown leather, he unlocked it, opened the case and pulled out the painting. Its dimensions, barely reaching to measure about eighty centimeters of length and a width of about fifty centimeters, I held it on my hands; It was a painting of low relief, painted in oleo. It didn’t seem to be very ancient, rather it gave the impression that it was painted recently, but in the lower-right corner of the frame, there was written Angel O. Castillo, perhaps the name of the artist, and a XII next to it.
That indicated that probably the painting had been painted at that date. - Do you believe this is from the XII century? I asked intrigued. Well, that’s what the poet assured me when I asked him. –He responded me.
I looked at the painting once again, the frames were made of ordinary wood, like any other painting. After all the painting was totally unknown to me, I never seen it before, or much less, heard about this singular artist, however, this wasn’t surprising, as the vendor mentioned it. The techniques used in this painting were like of a non-professional amateur, the tracings were uniform and the image quality was very precarious, but without a doubt, what was admirable, was that it had a royal touch.
A unique shape of a woman almost covered the whole painting, next to it, on her upper-left side, there erecting a small church, painted in white-ivory, with small ornaments on the cornices painted in pink-fuchsia and on her upper-right side, there was an spiral-like road, that emerged from a small hill; the face of the strange woman, wearing a dress of a lime-green color, that reached down to her ankles, her hair held back by a star shaped fastener; dress and hair style very unusual and modernist, I thought.
-Well, it doesn’t convince me, I don’t find the extraordinary anywhere. I replied almost immediately.
-I knew you would say that, don’t desperate and pay attention. He held the painting on his hands telling me. – Look good this painting, the extraordinary is not in the quality of the tracings, look good at this woman, because this will be the last time that you see her again in your life. With his affirmation, he intrigued me even more, I didn’t certainly know the reason why for so much mystery, or the reason to this affirmative threat, that he assured with great enthusiasm in his voice.
I looked steadily at the face of the woman, once again, memorizing every particular detail of the painting. He putted it back again in the leather case, engaged the locks; but all of the sudden he disengaged them pulling out the painting again; totally disconcerted, I couldn’t believe what I was looking at, Now the painting was a paradisiacal landscape, with enormous pine trees and beautiful waterfalls, the face had disappeared, as well as the church and the hill.
I introduced my hand into the case, it was empty. I touched the painting over and over. In vain, I looked for an explanation, there wasn’t one. Convinced that there wasn’t a trick or that that could be some kind of illusion, I told him: -Is this the case of an optical illusion, isn’t it? –To be honest, no, - he told me. Then he bent down getting closer to my ear telling me in a low tone voice –When I bought it from this poet, he revealed me the origin of this painting, he told me that a druid wizard had painted it. At the beginning, he painted himself; he didn’t like what he saw and he erased it with his magic, and he painted it once again, now with the face of his beautiful lover. He erased it, painting it once again; it´s been said that after six times on the same session, the painting erased and painted by itself. The druid was nocturnal, only in the nights was able to inspire. For that reason when the darkness arrives, the painting changes. It’s been said also, that the druid and his lover were captured by the painting, immortalizing eternally. His owner, the poet, saw in the painting of the paintings, an inspiration, to his forbidden writings. Falling to the lowest, people weren’t able to read his poems without outraging and intoxicating with their lethal curse.
I also acquired, that bookshelf from this man, when we were doing the exchange, the man looked desperate to get rid of this, for that reason he gave it to me for a very reasonable price. - Would you like to try again with the painting? He replied. - Of course – I told him still with amazement for everything that he had told me. I slowly opened the case introducing the painting again. I closed it and opened immediately. – I can’t believe it, this is not true. The painting had changed again. The vendor, bent down again speaking to me in secret. - Is true, it’s real; believe it. Every night, it will show a new painting, under the light of its penumbra. You will have an infinite number of paintings, during the rest of your life. Time and space exist at any point of the painting.
And in this master pieces, it will be reveal to you, the most unsuspected mysteries for humanity.
So much obscure philosophy, was giving me a bad impression and I tried to clear it immediately. - Do you believe in God? -Of course, I believe a lot in Him.
I always comply with His amendments. Is it perhaps that you believe that I have stolen from the French, that satanic painting? The buy and sell were justified, he needed money and even more important, he wanted to get rid of those objects as soon as possible. I affirmed him, that what I have done was fair. And even though the amount was little, if the owner agreed to, then there wasn’t any problem. To change the subject, I asked him, why was he hurrying up for? If he lived in this village. He responded me that in a few hours he had to be at the harbor; that he already had two years living in Quilá, and it was already time to get back to his homeland. Even though he lived near Quilá, few times he had gone to the village, and that’s why, that we hadn’t seen each other previously.
Meanwhile we were talking, I continued putting in and pulling out the painting from the case. Disguising my enthusiasm, in a false indifference tonality, I asked him. - What are you planning to do with it? Are you planning on selling it to the National Museum of Art of Culiacán? - No, they wouldn’t value this strange and seducing specimen, what this will only do, is to create chaos in the city. I offer it to you – he replied to me; figuring out numbers in a small notebook, he wrote an amount and showed it to me.
I responded him, sincerely, that the amount was too high even for me, staying still meditating. After a few seconds I had planned my response. - What would you think if we do a fair deal for the both of us? I commented him. - You bought this painting for a very low price, almost free; I offer you twenty times more of what you had paid besides the painting of Huriel Acosta, in a gold-made frame, that had been my family’s heritage for many centuries.
- Ahh, Huriel González Acosta! –He repeated emotionally,
-Yes, him. I offer you everything for the painting and the bookshelf. - All right I accept. He told me. I immediately went to the main room, pulling out a small metal box, I took out and counted it the money and in my way back I took down the painting giving them to him. He took the money in his hands, putting it in his pocket without even counting it. Holding the painting, he started to study it with great detail, like all art critic.
- Perfect! - He said to me. I was ready in my defensive, I even thought that he will haggle over it more, however, he didn’t do it.
But later on, I will be able to understand the real reason of his visit: to sell to me, the painting and the bookshelf.
We conversed a while longer, about his culture and its traditions, until he left. I haven’t seen him ever since, it seems that he didn’t come back and don’t remember his name, just the scar on his face. At the beginning I thought on remodeling a part of my library, specially for the painting and the bookshelf, but I knew this would be too selfish of me, to hide it inside my library, for which I ended up solving to use the same space occupied by the previous painting, close to the chimney, for everyone to see it, and right there as well, I accommodated the bookshelf.
I stood up all night, I couldn’t conciliate my sleep, and I couldn’t believe all that has happened that afternoon. Thinking that that wasn’t just a fantasy, I got up before sunrise, walking towards the main room and turned on the light. There was the painting of thousands of wonders next to the bookshelf, surprising me once again; I turned off and turned on the light several times, and every time that the light turned on, the painting showed me a landscape, a face or a totally different structure. It showed me different celebrations or very ancient families. At the beginning and with great jealousy, I showed the painting; from the great happiness and jubilee of possessing such valuable object, passing later to the uncertainty and fearfulness that perhaps more that one would want to steal my most precious treasure, for what I prohibited the entrance to the main room to everyone.
Including visitors, family members, and even the most entrusted employees; no one could enter it except me. I commanded to put a door made of a powerful material at the entrance and the only one who possessed the key to get in and get out was me.
A while later a restlessness got in me that perhaps the painting didn’t have an infinite number of images or different landscapes. I analyzed every millimeter of the whole painting, beginning at the frame, in an exhaustive search of some trick or a hoax. But no, there wasn’t any. I stop visiting my family, and forgotten about my friends completely. I was very obsessed with the painting that I bought a camera and started taking pictures at every different image. I took more than five thousand pictures. I notice clearly that none of them repeated themselves. I couldn’t sleep, I scarcely ate. I was a slave to the painting, even in my dreams and nightmares, when the lack of sleep defeated me; I was able to distinguish the painting that was calling me.
Leaves from the trees were falling ceaseless; thousands of them showered in colorful shades the humid soil, accepting their destiny in a come and go of the wind blowing, howling at every late afternoon, and I was barely starting to get out of my sleepy night arrival, and for the first time I was able to understand that I was trapped by the bewitchment of the painting and that I had converted into a beast with a human aspect and that under the darkness of the shadows was hidden the thirsty creature, which inquired with eyes, hands and feet the resplendent light of pain and suffering that soaked me to my last sense to be able to see again that damned painting, that one stealing the flesh from my bones and the water of my entrails.
I knew at that moment that the object extracting the energy was a malignant piece, that prone me under the yoke of the obscene perversity that attacked my nightmares in the incoherent reality. I tried to destroy it over and over, but my efforts were in vain, it always appeared back hanging on my wall; I felt that that wasn’t the solution; emerged out of me, the idea to donate it to an art institution, where they could take charge of it, this institution is located in the center of the city of Quilá, there are stored more than three hundred thousand paintings; one more, they wouldn’t be able to notice its presence nor less its curse. Taking advantage of a sunny morning, while the performance of an event, for me to make the donation, with the painting and the bookshelf with me, with the distraction of everyone I made it all the way in, following a hallway made in a U shaped curve, until getting to a gallery that seemed very abandoned by its aspect full of dust and spider webs, with a smell of humidity, and there among a pile of put aside paintings, I threw away the painting and the bookshelf.
I didn’t want to know anymore and walked out hastily. Calm has returned at home. I knocked down the imprisoning door and the living room got back to life again. Today in the tranquility, I think about that not even my mistake I would buy any unknown object. And not even dead I would think about passing by that institution in Quilá.
THE PHARAOH
There is not a beginning and neither there is a why, we all survive to the sand that moves and swallows us in its unknown dimension; when the galaxies were converting into a culture, and the religions were dying in the jungle, nothing did entertain us, the bodies were emptying of sentiments and filling back up of emotions; nature, corrupted by the human hand without the gods to protect it because the divine communication between both sides has been broken, because never nothing had existed before, and today, generous among the multitude germinates seeds of pure evil that walk ceaseless among the dead villages and among the hidden cities, in their putrefied and accursed disguise. The cup begins to overflow, for that reason now is the moment to really start to live, destroying all the old habits, from the bottom of our interior, start to enjoy of our true self, without fears and without doubts; the most important and essential is given to us every day, without any cost, we have unlimited access to this very precious and marvelous gift, every second, every moment of our lives, He embraces us and tell us that He loves us and wishes that we live happy; yes, is the air, is the water, is every thing that surround us and give us that satisfaction and apparently is something so simple and insignificant that we don’t keep our ears open to His essential presence, by this, I could enumerate hundreds of thousands of very simple things, that are granted to us at every moment, and even so we are not glad, nor happy, for that what the Divine Grace shares generously with us.
How many talents have been lost forever and how many virtues have been corrupted with the pass of times; we retake the antique as new and the new, we get rid of it as old. We move back and forth at the same time, and by this we don’t get anywhere, we worship what we call bad and restrain what we consider good, because is the best way to stand out of the rest, we fear the unknown, but at the same time we wish to get to know it, because our nature is wanting to know it all, without exception. We always want to try new experiences, because the routine turns out cold and boring, but why mislead the way when the options are infinite, and the great majority of them can lead us through thorns and adversities, but the reward is so great and marvelous almost compared as touching paradise with the fingers; even so, my soul tormented by the emptiness and loneliness moves away every time more from this exquisite pleasures; when it rains the smell of wet soil transports me to many inexplicable moments, but
unforgettable to me thousands of feelings take complete possession of my hardened and frozen existence by the pass of the years and the experiences, retrieving life in a spontaneous manner and the lump on my throat, gets visible, almost immediately.
Without any exception, even by knowing all this, I believe I could do something about it, I firmly believe that I could contribute to all those forsaken and hungry, a roof with home- warmness and a blessed piece of bread, to the thirsty and hopeless, a little bit of the water of life and some words that feed their souls and give them back faith, peace and tranquility.
The legion of messengers kneel down before my path of torture, they know how much difficult is my course; the hunger and siege of death are my daily bread, they get close as vultures, awaiting for the precise moment to attack, knowing that one of my weaknesses and debilities will give them the opportunity to deal me their inevitable blow, but as a good warrior I will take maximum advantage of my fortresses to postpone my departure, not even in the art of war is found written my sagacity and audacity to deal with my everyday battle, from where I get out victorious at the end of the day; and so will be until I confront the final fight, where both opponents will be winners by unanimity and I will let myself to be carried away by the smooth stream of existence and He will guide me thru his territory, and will offer me his home, sharing together and eternal friendship. Recalls to my old memory, a forgotten remembrance, it’s been a long, such a so long time, that is a true miracle to even remember it.
- Once upon a time, in a very distant place, in the center of the desert, existed a modern civilization, governed by a Pharaoh, and at the same time, the Pharaoh reckon on 12 royal councilmen, with no doubt, this Pharaoh achieved what no other previous Pharaoh did; he brought to his village, tranquility, peace, prosperity and trust. Every one liked him without exception, and wished that that would never end. What they didn’t know was that in the Pharaoh’s body, many souls dwelled in, no one ever imagined this, everything in him was unique, almost divine. He dressed like all Pharaohs, walking always straight and haughty, he laughs when the royal jesters did their comedies. The Pharaoh always said, how ungrateful we have been, are and will be with our existence, even when we are born to live, even when we watch to learn, and what we just do, is defeat to destroy. Anubis gave his life for the glory, but the glory didn’t give its life for him, even in its most loyal admiration for Mercury, tardy was his misfortune to situate himself into the crude reality, the sordid warriors never get to triumph at war, and even the most immense empires got destroyed by the fire, however, the lesson hasn’t been captured completely, there continued emerging Masters and warriors as Horomheb, the scorpion king, Andyib, Sanajt Nebka, etc., as well as gods as Horus, Isis, Osiris, Mitras, Krsna, Amon, Ra, etc., and even many more than these, are the slaves. But telling the truth, we all are slaves, slaves of our own mistakes, of our virtues, of our wealth, of our poverty, of our ideologies, of our feelings, of our habits, of our own body, after all, is not possible to be free, when one is full of an infinite number of reasons to be slave; only those who love life with passion and is in harmony with all the universe, will be a soul almost free, that will run trough life, by the illuminated path, by the serpenting and white moon; heaven and hell will involve in a terrible battle, just to conquer a special place in our souls, the day will dance with the night in their immortal dance; our eyes will not venture to undress the end, when the lighting peals the golden bell, it will initiate the sound of the ritual of the chosen ones and 7 horsemen will carry the hidden message to all the nations and to all the villages, 12 cups will celebrate the emerging of a new power, that will raise new temples of brilliant evil, and the skies will turn rainy and grayish and with the stench of its breathing and its words, nature will impregnate itself until withering, not even Yaveh with his teachings and legacy hasn’t had foreseen at least a thousandth part of the true and real events that will re-emerge in the new kingdom. What days those, when I was just a young boy, full of light, faith and hope; who believed with his eyes closed of the sweet and magic calls of love, how ingenious was my heart, but how beautiful was my world of fantasy; where neither old-age and illness existed at any moment. Everyone who surrounded me was perfect, always dancing full of joy and happiness, there wasn’t an apex of evil on them; generosity and kindness, that was what distinguish them, but brutal is the fall into reality, when I started to comprehend the true sense of how hard and unjust life is, and with the impotence coming out of my sensible eyes, in a torrential flow of tears that originate from the deepest ocean of my soul, I then knew that my soul revealed completely to all that afflicted and caused damage to everything that surrounded me.
But what could an immature and unskilled young boy do, before the great mysteries of God, how could I oppose to his wise felicity? To be able to coexist all in harmony, is necessary the universal balance, in order for the good to exist, the evil has to flourish, so life could shine and germinate; the saint veil of death has to float on the environment and make its dark appearance once in a while, and by this successively, we will find a balance.
I can’t even imagine at no time, a world with just saint people, obviously life would be much better, but we would be breaking the rule of balance; I can’t imagine as well, a life full of the wicked with no compassion, no pity, hungry for the power and the glory, which is all the opposite to the sanctity, ending with nothing good nor positive as a result of living like this. That’s why these singular opponents share in equal parts, although telling the truth, in more that one occasion this balance has been broken completely, but the Supreme Creator with His infinite wisdom, has established, that for such radical problems, the solutions always had been radical as well. He loved women and exquisite wine, he believed in his gods, but even so, deep inside, his multiple characters or souls tormented him day and night. Since his childhood every one knew his reasoning skills and his enormous potential in oratory, he could run and speech of two hours without stopping, also well known was his ability learning everything that he could, he learned it, without distinction, every one admired him ever since, however, meanwhile he was growing up, and once that he had learned all they could teach him, his dissatisfaction was augmenting, he had learned of everything, but they never taught him how to be happy and to be satisfied with all that life has granted him. Anyone else would give his soul to get to be in his place, even for just a few days; but well, the Pharaoh’s condition was like this, and he wanted to believe from the bottom of his heart that all the existing gods had gathered to give him that gift, he needed to believe it more that anyone else, supposing by this, that he wasn’t a mortal human being, but even better, a semi-god, with many souls in his body, and with one mission here on earth, and that his blood, even though it looked like any other human being’s blood, in reality wasn’t, he thought that his blood was divine, therefore, he should mix it with others of his same blood; by this, his lineage will get to last forever, therefore keeping the narrow divine line united throughout the coming times. But if this belief was only product of an elevated ego or of his most challenging imagination, then he found himself in a big problem; since all his beliefs and ideologies had their strength in his mystic and powerful personality, and that that couldn’t vanish away in an instantly manner. His inflexible will, took over above all the things, not minding the cause and the reason of his nature, if that only was a fantasy, foreseen in his ethereal dreams, amalgamated in his concerned worries, however, what he represented was fundamental to all his subjects, the opinion of his people, towards his personality was very important; but, how could he keep away and reject his true nature…his only divine gift.
How many naught pockets had sunk into the mud? wasting precious moments in this wise life, even though, I’ve been given another opportunity, the Supreme Creator has supported my restlessness, guiding me with his hands at all time, He has plenty deposited his trust on me, to accomplish one of his works, with the finality of crushing once and for all, those doctrines, that are so false as their leaders, to uproot from their profundity all those sects, that are contaminating the minds of millions of people, if they were to be channeled by a unique path, and with the certainty of knowing that that’s the right one, our stay here, would be much more simple and more equitable.
The nature adjusts when everyone of us is able to reach up our dreams, and embrace our victories, the economy shared by equal goods, and with the parishioners and the entire universe praying in the unique church, existing and to be, the church of God; without walls, without temples, without images, without false prophets, as simple as this, an eternal communion between Father and Son only, to avoid possible bloody wars, that at the end are unnecessary and in most of the times, unjust. Sethi faced many battles against the Hititas, coming out victorious in many of them; thanks to his tactics, strategies, charisma and leadership, but at the end, he only got to make it to the region of nothingness, when his lethal defeat and death obligated him to aboard the ship of the eternal exile, along with his loyal men, an end so disturbing and miserable. Is like this, the Pharaoh had been born with two great natures, the human being one, common and ordinary, and the Godly one, but this wasn’t strange in great measure to his town, it´s been known that much more time ago before his, the planet was inhabited by many semi-gods, but they weren’t that evolutional, and their features were part human and part animal, and that today, they are in the infra-world, condemning the unjust and sinners to the eternal punishment, and only the book of the death was the salvation for the common souls, but it’s been said that the semi-gods are going directly to form part of that great tribune, and have ensured the eternal glory; however, in most of the semi-gods bodies just dwelled two souls that live in harmony, one next to the other, the weakness of one turning out into the fortress of the other. But in the other hand, in the Pharaoh’s, the situation was more complicated, in his insides the conflict was a total chaos, each one of the souls wanted to create its own rules and conditions, there wasn’t absolute harmony. Each one choosing a different ways, it wasn’t like the riverbed where all the water takes the same direction and same current; onto him everything was the opposite, that’s why they didn’t support each other mutually, if one of them weakens, the other used that against it; there wasn’t permitted any mistakes nor failures, because in the contrary, they will crush one against the other. The hate and envy among themselves were to death, so then when many souls dwelled inside of one same body and these don’t get along among them and don’t carry the same parallelism, this will make a hell of whoever bears them. The air started to be breathe by the great creature, it seemed to be originated from paradise itself, where the glory is eternal, and without any consideration was
taking over of his weak senses, that sleepy by the rain of sadness, anguishing his perfidious thoughts and actions, to then slap him with a chunk of his notorious and exquisite melody of disdain; and continuing with their lethal aggressions they sent him to the temple of forgetfulness, from where he isn’t going to be able to get out ever, until the gods sheltered him in their lap and offered him their grace and divinity. He forgot for good, of the tormenting past that confused his ethereal and fleeting thoughts and situated his careful and fortunate presence to enjoy of the most beautiful companionship and the infinite welfare, that caused his stay here; in this place where one inhales faith and exhales peace, here everything is beautiful and eternal, there isn’t paper sheets nor words enough in the world to describe this celestial place, the light irradiated by all the spirits is sufficient to see with clarity the infinite, also, from here the darkness could be seen with its grotesque figures its guttural sounds, that tear off from his heart a deep chill that passes by all his beautiful light and gets to tremble his tired heart, with such a vision.
Inside the Pharaoh dwelled: the artist, sensible creator of beautiful master pieces; the dictator, tough anarchist, who governed without compassion and without pity; the saint, kindhearted soul, capable to give his life for his brother and for his neighbor; the intellectual, selfish soul, of great knowledge, who tried to explain the reasons of everything; the obscure, soul that walks through darkness, capable of any sinister act; and the self-soul of the Pharaoh, that reveals to share the same body, living by this a daily battle and a life almost impossible to endure it within prudence.
By this, the great Pharaoh who lived many lives into a single one, the everyday events
made his existence difficult, likely all the semi-gods; his feelings were like an ocean of confusions.
When he lived like an artist, his existence was sublime and elevated, before his eyes, everything flourish like true art and in his mind, he imagine of big architectonic constructions, that could only be designed by a real artist in such majestic manner, magnificent and beautiful; but then the dictator, who also dwelled in him, with his sarcastic laughter was making fun of him, hurting him deeply, letting see that his dreams were trash that don’t sustain an empire, and what the people needed, was a tough hand, raisin the taxes, to be able to sustain a powerful army, that could be able to win battles and conquer by this, new civilizations; and the saint getting involved said, that none of the two made sense, that life was so beautiful, to be wasted in acts of violence or building castles, that much better was to lead the people through the righteous path, towards their salvation, towards God; and the intellectual, trying to take advantage, agreed that the three were right, that those castles were necessary and convert them into huge fortresses, and that having a powerful army, will make them immune to be conquered, and at the same time, by pleasing the people, committing them to a religious culture, will turn them loyal to the Pharaoh, however, the dark one, getting involved, with his disdainful and deceitful tongue, promise to guide the kingdom towards the eternity, if sacred cults were paid to Aton, and he would convert everyone and every soul towards immortality; but none of them was willing to give in, everyone wanted to do what they believed was better, and never got to an agreement, attacking one another, without any compassion.
The Pharaoh joining everyone to win the battle against the thirsty greed, which destroys the old principles and the cosmic energy, revolves himself with the everyday music, losing brightness and authenticity, everything wastes away in the ardent fire of death, and only remains the essence of the warrior who ascends to the light, when the lonesome darkness takes over of the fortune which dominates with no sense nor reasoning, there isn’t logic in the chaos, it just occurs because that’s the way it has to be, because is part of the evolutionary apprenticeship, the force enters through the senses and through the wounds that don’t heal, without the proper medicine.
The saint with his prophetic words said that humanity had been divided considerably and in a real vertiginous manner, that nowadays is almost impossible to be able to unify or to get the unity; some big variety of thoughts, some creative, some destructive, some inspiring, some followers, some parasites and some others observing, and even so, we haven’t realize yet, that everyone has contributed with our grain of sand, for our universe to be degraded everytime more, is just a matter of time for the wise mother nature to begin to spit comets in magic fire and big explosions overcast the smooth sky with its darkness, and later, re-emerging in vivid red, the garment of the planet; we have received the celestial call, in a series of circular codes that appear everywhere, which incite us to take away our negative energies and that once and for all unify our lives like brothers; brothers who live under one same sky, brothers who live under one same harmony. My ancestors seen it as well, all the old civilizations came to His call and responded The Pharaoh joining everyone to win the battle against the thirsty greed, which destroys the old principles and the cosmic energy, revolves himself with the everyday music, losing brightness and authenticity, everything wastes away in the ardent fire of death, and only remains the essence of the warrior who ascends to the light, when the lonesome darkness takes over of the fortune which dominates with no sense nor reasoning, there isn’t logic in the chaos, it just occurs because that’s the way it has to be, because is part of the evolutionary apprenticeship, the force enters through the senses and through the wounds that don’t heal, without the proper medicine.
The saint with his prophetic words said that humanity had been divided considerably and in a real vertiginous manner, that nowadays is almost impossible to be able to unify or to get the unity; some big variety of thoughts, some creative, some destructive, some inspiring, some followers, some parasites and some others observing, and even so, we haven’t realize yet, that everyone has contributed with our grain of sand, for our universe to be degraded everytime more, is just a matter of time for the wise mother nature to begin to spit comets in magic fire and big explosions overcast the smooth sky with its darkness, and later, re-emerging in vivid red, the garment of the planet; we have received the celestial call, in a series of circular codes that appear everywhere, which incite us to take away our negative energies and that once and for all unify our lives like brothers; brothers who live under one same sky, brothers who live under one same harmony. My ancestors seen it as well, all the old civilizations came to His call and responded with great faith. The Pharaoh viewing it from a different perspective, more conscious and more objective, always got to the same conclusion, saying all this to himself, that that was simply a vague and strange situation, with sordid elements, without prejudice, that could lead him into a tragic insanity, that absurd and empty was converting other peoples´ thoughts, that dragged him at every second into an infinite abyss, where every part of his imagination was a changing universe; He thought then that the chaos was just a necessary adjustment or better, a re-accommodation of lost ideas, situating them to where they really belong.
Some humiliated spirits, in the unhappiness, twisting in the darkness, searching with his hands the indicated path to be able to make it to the desired forgiveness, that would return to his opaque eyes, the enough light to abandon forever the pagan feast of the wretch, and elevate in the cloud of mercifulness and pity; cornerstones that push the soul towards the highest level of the infinite cosmos, converting into the saint grail of the sinners and with the smile, broken to the heart; turning in shades its essence and the hurricanes swept away its presence from the face of earth, creating millenary abysses, reducing its absolute sorrow to re-born in organisms slightly visible and for that reason not much comprehended by humanity.
However, it couldn’t stop lurking its human nature, to the rest of the parts, constantly insisting that there should be some way to be able to get the balance in its purest essence, and by this, vanish once and for all, the satisfaction corrupted from its other parts. the pharaoh was tired of walking through a path hardly illuminated, full of thorns and stones, that weren’t doing nothing easy nor pleasant this journey; but he knew that he wasn’t the only one who suffered with this transformation; everyone without exception, have their own sufferings and would be a great mistake if anyone would say that their sufferings exceeded by far compared to the rest of people, a fact that is really uncertain because there is nothing existing that could be able to measure the sufferings of mankind, only the one who bears his sorrows, knows about his suffering.
Everything was getting lost in the interior, turning into a gloomy and turned-off hallway through no one wants to pass, because it doesn’t look trustable, it doesn’t even cause a bit of romanticism; the mystery dissolves in the memory like an old doubt, that always had been intriguing, and it hasn’t been known how to react to it, because no one has been prepared to confront it. Very sure was the Pharaoh, that by having just one soul, into just one body, didn’t guarantee happiness; everyone had their own and diverse problems that tormented and exhausted them, no one was free to that fact, even though, with a life very tormenting and so full of problems, that didn’t avoid that the Pharaoh could had his moments of great splendor, cheer and fortune, those moments that made him dream with an ocean of happiness, even at the end of a bitter desert, the breeze humidity was able to rescue the life of thousands of flowers and thousands of animals, and by this, being able to change the course of existence, making him believe that everything was perfect. The mountains wouldn’t move to help him, they wouldn’t even walk towards him, everyone helping him to give his firsts steps, re-enforcing his geniality, earning his territoriality by knowing the depth of the souls; there were found hidden passions and dark desires that were elevating throughout incoherent and malodorous paths that petrified all breathing, nothing got away, it was the glory in hell with flames that ignited in the hearts with no reason, the light would disappear and would appear back, every time more tenuous and worn out, even so, deciding to continue the search for the unreachable truth, when everything collapses and destroys.
But now it didn’t stop to feel at every moment, a wretched creature, who suffered of a great sorrow in his suffocated chest, without being able to get rid of it, which would accompany him to wherever he goes to; not even the greatest and best spectacle would get him away from it, it had him impregnated at every pore of his skin, and he wasn’t able to tear it off with nothing made by mankind, neither the spell of the strongest magic was able to remove it from his body, but meanwhile he was suffering, everything surrounding him suffered as well, his beautiful maids, were also suffering with him, because they loved him, his 2 younger brothers suffered his misfortunes as well, his most loyal friends weren’t able to avoid the melancholy and all those who knew him too, and even all those who didn’t know him that good, cried in his sufferings. But the wind pulled it off from the lie from the root, and destroyed every word and thought, of his insane being, that didn’t deserve the embracing feeling of the people, but however, things are like this, they can not be changed, is frightening, when you get rid of everything that you bear inside your conscious and your body, to undress later, your soul completely.
Very few people knew his secret; some only knew his intellectual one, that one who was able to speak for hours, with great intensity about diverse themes, and would keep the audience laying their eyes at him with great interest, but then soon, they would deception bitterly when they got to know the dictator, who in a rough and brutal manner would attack without pity, arguing, that the govern was turning into weak and fragile to its enemies, or better, when they got to know the artist, captivating everyone with his beautiful poetry executed in a brilliant manner and declaring that art could have more development if this would be recognized in public, therefore, the majority only knew one of the Pharaoh’s facets, meanwhile another one is being discovered, they will be amazed and would describe the Pharaoh as a creature with strange ideas under a surprising and magic veil, that gave a mysterious touch to his personality which would fascinate many, and the idea of an extravagant and changing Pharaoh would frighten others, with his very uncommon ideas, getting sometimes to be vague and incoherent, and wise in other times.
the apple of discord wasn’t always present in the pharaoh’s life, in more than one occasion the communion between man and the souls took presence, reckoning in those difficult times or filling out the emptiness with happiness; they always asked themselves, why me, such an extraordinary man, who by just touching the ordinary turned it into special, when i touched the brass i turned into gold? i have so little moments of good fortune, when everything is mine, when i shouldn’t be worry for nothing, when my wishes and my dreams are the reality, is it perhaps that all is a universal balance?.
but even more, continuing with the journey of melancholy that conceals the face with hundreds of cheers that ease up the truth disgrace, is understood that everything is common and ordinary; but the passion has disappeared from human existence, has it been stolen by some supreme and divine criature, who wanders through the streets of pleasure and entertains himself in the big circuses? where the ferocious envies and lusts are tame by the king of eternal darkness, and the comedian clowns entertain the crowd of losers, whom only wish to forget their most bitter sorrows and their debts stained with the generous forgetfulness, therefore, they could submit themselves to the royal buffoon’s scoff.
that the poor and slaves have a little or no wealth, but still celebrate about any event and their faces always look full of happiness, full of light, meanwhile in myself, none of that calls my attention at the most minimum, or perhaps could be, that when those moments of felicity arrive to my difficult and long existence; they are so great, that completely opaque my small daily misfortunes. who could be the wind to be able to fly away from my tortuous prison, who could be that bird, which with its wings of liberty slides smoothly above the sky, and hopeful lands on its earthly domains, being happy simply with what they have and what they are.
an old prophet was claiming that very soon, a small and young parasite would turn the universe around, and nothing has changed yet, because the thirst of all the throats will not be quenched, not even by the fire of luzbel.
there will pass one an another eternity and the time will end, however here, everyone will continue suffering the same illness, with wounds that don’t heal easily, nothing has been able to alleviate the pain that’s developed in the chest and throat, thousands of knots weaving its web, binding it in a sigh of bitter symphony, that’s been written faulty.
time stops when the stars sing above the dark and sinister firmament, but even more powerful is the strength that joins them with the celestial stars, that came in before the time and before the nothingness, protecting like this, their wisdom; they transported slowly towards the path where infinite ends, where other new infinite starts, where the stones are alive and where the comets travel spiting virtues.
it’s never known where anyone is able to reach at, when nothing causes conformity, when the simple turns into complex, and the complex is created as a vulgar entropy that doesn’t fear anything and anyone; that pathetic and unusual life is converting into; the morbidity of the event, that causes that the gears keep going moving on in the legend of history, it still confuses us; someone without shame nor glory, in another time and in another world screamed to the open air – when i was a king, people worshiped and loved me unconditionally, even if the utopia of my administration would be disastrously and abarrationously screwed; even like this, everyone loved this creature who dressed with long and beautiful garments, and a incredibly beautiful crown placed onto my temples, it was furnished with enormous incrustations of rubies, and they looked in me, a supreme creature, who perhaps one day will satisfy the people’s wishes.
is time to begin the escape, towards the mystery and the enigma, there are powers that i don’t understand, that push me towards my destiny, but this doesn’t mean that the course of this path is not important, and without minding which path i go through, my destiny will be accomplished.
i will rove through the world, lost between the cold weather and marked up by the sun, I will look for what I haven’t found, I’ll find what I haven’t look for and will heal the wounds of my soul, and forever will exile from my body, those nauseous souls that want to control my life and are getting me away from my liberty.
Sins have turned into a daily routine, a rotten fruit has turned forbidden, and everyone is willing to taste it in their lips, lips that germinate small and cylindrical worms that they will eat until they satiate their voracious appetite and even so they will continue suffering of their immense hunger.
Today I depart with my sight focus into the darkness, that teaches me the dance of the stars. Yesterday, I was what I’m not today, and tomorrow I’ll just be the dust entangled in a lotus flower.
