Enlightenment

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
A short story/poem written by Young Apollo.

Submitted: November 06, 2016

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Submitted: November 06, 2016

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Enlightenment, a short story poem.

Weary traveler, hood draping eyes, lantern to illuminate the day to night.
Across the wasteland he walked, a sacred vibe, his cowl cold but his array benign.
His mission was simple, locate and find the way inside, a metaphor, to change his daily life.
The man, a vacant mind, long lost, now a latent mime.
He found the cavern, displayed a sign that stated "enter the shrine at the cost of your sanest twine."
So picture the scene, cave walls, ancient scribe, blatant lakefront, sage and brine.
In the center, the pedestal, draped in vine.
On top laid a book, plain in sight, painted spine, forever encased in time.
The pages, stained with white, scent of fragrant wine, forbidden knowledge, proclaimed by Christ.
But the strangest design, no cross bared across the book's face divine, inclined, he touched the book and heard the angels chime, for on the cover stood one word plainly "Thine".
Bravest , he opened the cover, impatient, unwise and staggered back, pain filled his eyes, feeling like the dagger, cutting the throat of the tamest swine.
Flicking the pages, taking time, he discovered the story was of a boy, the traveler shrugged and sighed.
A long journey, time spent and wasted, why? Merely an old novel, stale and dry.
But the man was wise, brain like an oak or greatest pine, he smiled, feeling safe inside the cavern walls sublime, he resigned with intent to read tonight.
But what you don't know reader, is than the truth is nigh, the man more familiar than the deceived eye, the book, not merely a stapling of paper, serene and shy, but it is my story, so please read, comply. 

The boy, smart.. but with a lost surplus.
XVII, often nervous, unsure of life's embossed purpose. 
As a child, talent less, felt quashed, worthless. 
His friends and family, showing tough, firmness while he sat frail and pale on his computer,  frothed in earnest. 
He finished school with decent grades, barely shocked, wordless, 
next month swept off to a new land, dropped in a new surface. 
At first, he was calm when his parents rocked and transferred him, 
made friends, grand colonels of his past persons, 
friends close like family, a locked circle. 
But then the feelings of stocked nervous turned into anxiety, an unlocked version. The possibility of success stopped working 
because the possibility of failure blocked his mind, for certain. 
The feelings flocked, now a regular and damned occurrence.  
Again worthless, silently mocked and chopped because he wasn't worth it. 
Stopped trying in life because he felt like it was everyone he was versus, he wondered why life had to hurt him.
He fought, heart like furnace, adopt an intelligent persona to fight the throbbing surges.
A valiant service, but the circuits in his brain, blocked with disturbance, anxiety evolved to depression, something beyond inertness. 
Concurrence, the bathroom floor took the emergence, he sobbed into the ground, feeling he deserved it. 
Then suddenly.. divergence. 
A reimbursement, like God watched and gave him a stocked rehearsal.
He found TRUE LOVE: a power universal.
Feeling inertial, he watched her as she turned his life into reversal.
Depression dispersal, he became again verbal, functioning with no demurral. 
He didn't leap, he chopped through hurdles, the girl, making his life again perfect, topped up and  mirthful.  
Although happy, sometimes he couldn't stop but feel infernal. 
Mind thermal, his fear of the future, his only deferral. 
Their relationship, sometimes dropped, lodged and hurtful. 
But she comforted him, told him not to think so controversial.
After a lot, now together, he hopes their relationship is eternal. 
---
The man put down the book with a frown, turning it around, and felt a tear roll down the edge of his gown. 
He pulled back his hood, exposing his crown and realized the truth tonight he had found.
Ideas fewer and fewer, the boy in the book, still nervous of future.
But the traveler, crouched down in pain.
Because he now knew, him, the man, and the boy, were one and the same. 
He'd found his past, buried alive.
And now he's found his way inside.
So, if you're feeling lost or vast,
Remember the man who remembered his past.
Memories are gone, you're merely a viewer.
So focus on now and look to the future.


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