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Of Moths And Foxes
He was birthed into a dream.
His all black, hi top converse had no laces and he wore no shirt.
Wearing none but camouflage cargo shorts.
A mist fell from the black void he stood in.
Tickling the skin.
Small droplets converged to larger ones on the balcony of his chest, giving a sparkling dance to his tattoos in the white light.
A spotlight that seemed to have no source shewn upon him and centered him under it with each movement.
Beautiful gypsy moths slowly came from the blackness and hovered in a perfect circle around him.
One moth was considerably bigger than the rest.
It fluttered closer to him and landed on his outstretched finger that he held in front of his bare chest as a perch.
It spoke and said, 'mastery is not a burden young one, they will push you to an isle and pull you to the flame as you share your gifts, this cannot be avoided.'
He stood silently as a bushy tailed fox approached at his feet and put it's paws on his stomach as it looked up at him, moth still in hand.
The fox spoke and he saw the foxes tongue forming words through its small jaws,
'Fly of a zephyrs wing, eternal weight in linger.
Take the silk from the moth, spin it thrice your finger.
Stand strong in their contempt, you will see the greatest kingdom.
Bestowed upon this man of God, you will see true wisdom.'
The fox then bit him on the stomach, ripping muscle tissue from his abdominal region.
'Just remember to bleed.' the fox said as he scurried into the abyss.
Suddenly the moths chaotically flew in every direction, blinding him, before they disappeared into the ashy black.
There was a loud switch flip and a brighter light without a source shown on him.
He was then rushed by 2 dozen or so men and women all holding objects and gifts.
They ran toward him, complementing him and handing him jewelry, money, precious metals and stones, awards, delicate foods, a crown.
Women clawing at his bare chest and grabbing his crotch as he fought to push all off from him.
He threw the crown as hard as he could and started kicking those that approached in the sternum sending them back to the blackness.
The women begging him in needy voices that were offensive to his ears.
Men telling him congratulations as they stuffed things between his arms.
He cried out, 'I don't want any of this, take them from my sight!'
He threw all the gifts back to where they came from, the darkness.
He forcefully expelled all from his light circle and all was silent.
The light went out and the abyss became 4 black walls that fell outward in each direction.
He found himself in what looked like a third world dump site.
Mountains of rubble and rubbish, piled high and wreaking of death and other discomforts.
He climbed a mountain of this and saw below, people blindfolded, walking into a woodchipper, their obliterated remains flying from the spit of the machine.
He descended the mountain and approached it.
He turned the machine off and walked to the line of people, ripping off their blindfolds and introducing himself by name, shaking their hands.
They looked confused and had a look of being offended on their faces.
In their confusion, they became angry and projected it on him.
They then surround and attacked him, he took a deep breath and exhaled toward them and they all fell back to the ground, dazed and muttering curses.
He saw a ship in the harbor with his name on it and approached.
There was a small crew aboard and they showed him ignorance and contempt, showing no faith in his skills as a captain.
It came to him that he will be at sea for a long while and his crew members are hateful and may bring on him a sabotage or his death in their animosity.
He told them to get off his ship and they left spitting on him as he showed them off.
He sat on a barrel and put his brow in his hand as he bent down in his lap.
Grief.
Grief.
Grief.
He said in his mind three times.
He stood up with a tear in his eye, and untied the rope from the dock.
He then headed toward the open ocean, braving the deeps of life in solitude and rejection, as he continued his life's voyage to different ports, where he will no doubt meet more of the same as he wills his heart toward those in need.
© Sebastian Grey
His all black, hi top converse had no laces and he wore no shirt.
Wearing none but camouflage cargo shorts.
A mist fell from the black void he stood in.
Tickling the skin.
Small droplets converged to larger ones on the balcony of his chest, giving a sparkling dance to his tattoos in the white light.
A spotlight that seemed to have no source shewn upon him and centered him under it with each movement.
Beautiful gypsy moths slowly came from the blackness and hovered in a perfect circle around him.
One moth was considerably bigger than the rest.
It fluttered closer to him and landed on his outstretched finger that he held in front of his bare chest as a perch.
It spoke and said, 'mastery is not a burden young one, they will push you to an isle and pull you to the flame as you share your gifts, this cannot be avoided.'
He stood silently as a bushy tailed fox approached at his feet and put it's paws on his stomach as it looked up at him, moth still in hand.
The fox spoke and he saw the foxes tongue forming words through its small jaws,
'Fly of a zephyrs wing, eternal weight in linger.
Take the silk from the moth, spin it thrice your finger.
Stand strong in their contempt, you will see the greatest kingdom.
Bestowed upon this man of God, you will see true wisdom.'
The fox then bit him on the stomach, ripping muscle tissue from his abdominal region.
'Just remember to bleed.' the fox said as he scurried into the abyss.
Suddenly the moths chaotically flew in every direction, blinding him, before they disappeared into the ashy black.
There was a loud switch flip and a brighter light without a source shown on him.
He was then rushed by 2 dozen or so men and women all holding objects and gifts.
They ran toward him, complementing him and handing him jewelry, money, precious metals and stones, awards, delicate foods, a crown.
Women clawing at his bare chest and grabbing his crotch as he fought to push all off from him.
He threw the crown as hard as he could and started kicking those that approached in the sternum sending them back to the blackness.
The women begging him in needy voices that were offensive to his ears.
Men telling him congratulations as they stuffed things between his arms.
He cried out, 'I don't want any of this, take them from my sight!'
He threw all the gifts back to where they came from, the darkness.
He forcefully expelled all from his light circle and all was silent.
The light went out and the abyss became 4 black walls that fell outward in each direction.
He found himself in what looked like a third world dump site.
Mountains of rubble and rubbish, piled high and wreaking of death and other discomforts.
He climbed a mountain of this and saw below, people blindfolded, walking into a woodchipper, their obliterated remains flying from the spit of the machine.
He descended the mountain and approached it.
He turned the machine off and walked to the line of people, ripping off their blindfolds and introducing himself by name, shaking their hands.
They looked confused and had a look of being offended on their faces.
In their confusion, they became angry and projected it on him.
They then surround and attacked him, he took a deep breath and exhaled toward them and they all fell back to the ground, dazed and muttering curses.
He saw a ship in the harbor with his name on it and approached.
There was a small crew aboard and they showed him ignorance and contempt, showing no faith in his skills as a captain.
It came to him that he will be at sea for a long while and his crew members are hateful and may bring on him a sabotage or his death in their animosity.
He told them to get off his ship and they left spitting on him as he showed them off.
He sat on a barrel and put his brow in his hand as he bent down in his lap.
Grief.
Grief.
Grief.
He said in his mind three times.
He stood up with a tear in his eye, and untied the rope from the dock.
He then headed toward the open ocean, braving the deeps of life in solitude and rejection, as he continued his life's voyage to different ports, where he will no doubt meet more of the same as he wills his heart toward those in need.
© Sebastian Grey
