The Alchemist

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Historical Fiction  |  House: Spirit Space
In the Middle Ages, Alchemy was an early form of chemistry with the main intention of turning base metals into gold. This is a story of the blending of spirituality and science, and immortality sought by one man...

Submitted: May 02, 2019

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Submitted: May 02, 2019

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What is perfection, what precisely does it consist of? That state of being so necessary to a spirits continuance. Is it something which fades as the stars do at sunrise? It only appears that they do so; it is an illusion and the flaw lies with us, for our eyes of flesh cannot see them.

I imagine them in the bright of day and wonder of forever. I know that I am of them, made of the same brillance; the spark of creation is within me.

I am a scientist, and I know that true perfection can only be known in continuance. Not seen in the daylight, the stars remain constant as does our soul. I seek a state of mindfilled existence, that of creative thought. It is a joining, to become one with that which never ends.

We few understand the mind which unifies with the indestructable energy which is the human soul. There in a space of mystery where eternity can be kept within the idenity known as spirit.

The yearning for immortality springs forth in men such as I. I was a youth of sixteen when I began to understand the magic of transformation. I considered aging and the meaning of physical change, that which is growning old. Growing. The term struck, and I began to observe the natural world which surrounded. The turning of new green leaves into gold, season upon season. I found the symbol of eternal truth there, the gold of the spirit, aging in wisdom.

Use of the magic, the science of Alchemy, would require something of longevity  to obtain an eternal self. The trial and error of an alchemist taking time.

On so many sleepless nights, as the brillant beams of light shone above me, I would wonder again  of the connect between the stars and the soul. It was always a priceless contemplation, there where all men of uncommon mind meet in the concept of intelligent design, to be sought and found in knowledge. The science of transformation being the catalyst of Alchemy.

Immortality of the spirit is the only thing of actual value, what else is there to be desired? So many of my collegues are fools in what they seek, focusing on physical youth, hoping to turn what is base and temorary into something of lasting gold. It is the travisty of Alchemy; the materialists always to meet a dead end.

Turning away from what is wasteful and useless, I will forge a key to eternity, one where the science of transformation is used to connect the soul to the mind. I was studied enough to perform my first experiment when I was thirty, using my own version of the Philosophers Stone, substituting Aqua Fortis for Salt, powdered human bone for Sulfer and red potters clay for Mercury. This stone is the realization of the Phoenix and was the beginning of the Key.

The 13th century is the golden age of mankind when it comes to the sciences. But alas, the king of this realm is another form of fool who embraces the ignorance called religion. It is not through a 'lord' who proclaimed himself divine in his immortality, he with his mindless following of sheep, that true eternity will be realized. It is only through the the limitless, boundless questioning of science that it can be found.

  As Prometheus created men out of earth and water combined in a precise mixture, then stole fire from the heavens to instill them with the energy of the soul, the symbol of the Phoenix rising is there to be known.

The final Key, I will keep it upon my person for the rest of my physical life. As it comes to its end, I will focus all my mental energy on the Phoenix, for mind and soul to be bound.

  My Philosophers Stone attempts continue, time passing with every sunset to remind as I finely tune the Keys content.

I am old. As I gaze into mirrors I see the wrinkles of time upon my face of temporary clay. They matter not, excepting to understand how moments of laughter and tears known during my life have brought them forth. Looking past the lines shown there, I stare into my eyes, still finding the force of creation behind them, glowing with the same light of the stars, always silently speaking.

The mirror itself is of magic as we will to see our souls reflection.

My Alchemy is the truest to be found, the closest to creation. My spirit is of the Phoenix, and with my physical passing, with my forceof mind and my Key I will rise from the ashes of death.


© Copyright 2019 LE. Berry. All rights reserved.

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