The Middle-land

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: October 31, 2016

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Submitted: October 31, 2016



There's always a place for love and there's always a place for hate, but my place is somewhere in between, upon the illusory summits of intellect. From those heights I stare down at all the lights that cover the earth's surface like an unending blanket, see them faintly flicker in the distance, hear then the unfurling motions of the fleshy waves. As the creases unfold I also see the truth behind all words: the futility of adjectives, the uselessness of verbs, the vague nature of nouns and pronouns. 

To the west is the land of love and to the east the land of hate, wherein all words aforesaid were created with poetic passion. Yet I see groups of people separating themselves from the wave and from all things they had once given birth to. Through the eyes of god I watch their struggle to reach the middle-land. They suffer as they drag their feet across uneven paths, painting the jagged rocks with their blood. I let my godly gaze linger upon these two lands, these two shimmering dots upon the curtain of cosmos, telling a tale of humanity that never came to be. And I keep my eyes leveled on the lost ones whose absence will forever go unnoticed, those who seek the middle-land not out of curiosity, but due to a need to reach some sort of equilibrium. But the middle-land looks o so faraway to these poor creatures. Perhaps it is the comforting whisper of boundless love that convinces them to stay, or the venomous tongue of hate that wraps itself around the ankles of those who get too close to the middle-land. But the reason remains irrelevant, the middle-land barren still. 

So what role will I play, as the observer and the nowhere dweller, my feet planted firmly in false pride, the world below me so close yet so out of reach? What can one do when the sky's tongue is cut open, the land is showered thus by the wet words of god? Perhaps in the silence of the middle-land these words will have clearer meanings. Perhaps in the middle-land these words will take on a different meaning. 

So allow me to take your hand and ride with you to the middle-land, where we can revel in our silence and let our souls flourish through the contact of the flesh, the middle-land where love and hate reconcile and all meanings can be therefore summarized in humanity's silent stare. O how wonderful it'd be if we could guide all those who seek shelter to the middle-land, allow them too to look upon humanity with a clear mind, through a clear lens. 
Perhaps then they would look from afar at all the buildings they have built and realize that it was all built in vain. Only then they would understand that their never-ending pursuit to reach the heavens, all the while trying to find their footing on the platform of love or the platform of hate, has always been pointless. 
Perhaps heaven resides in each and every human heart, and in the hearts of all those who have found firm footing upon the surface rather than looking for one in the skies. 

And in the middle-land, my friend, we will find that the only word humanity can cling to, the only word with a clear meaning is Perhaps...

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