Stars, hide your fires: Archetype

December 25, 2009
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“And with this, I discover just how isolated it all is, we are all made up of tiny prisons known as atoms, and that even in the most lucid of situations, blindness prevails.”

The park is cold tonight, one foot follows the other as I walk slowly. Trance out of my mind, when I wake up I’m at my destination, the very center of the tiny stretch of grass this park has to offer. The grass is soft tonight, the stars gleam to the ground. I remember that stars are a window into the past, that light itself takes years to reach this Earth, and I guess that’s what we do every time we look at the stars, look into our pasts. And with that, this runs through my mind.


i'll sit from the side and watch it unfold
static in my reflections
soaking in the light
and bleeding out the pain

slowly losing all i've set out for myself
and in this crippled Nonpathos
i close my third eye

and all subsequent

and pretend to myself
that i've tried my best
to live and to love

fervently questioning
if i've ever had the liberty
of simply being happy

and know, truly know
that i've never felt the light
or shed the blood

and all i see before me
is absolutely nothing at all


The stars in their great infinitude have ceased to make me feel insignificant, how pitiful. The park just got colder, I’ve been here for a few hours or so, it seems like just seconds. The full moon is about to set, meaning the sun is about to rise.


It’s about a two mile walk home, but what’s home? Home is where I lay in my cold bed and try to sleep, and fail every time. Home is where I microwave my solitary meals and sit in silence. Home is where the heart is supposed to be, but isn’t. Home is nowhere...

The road to “home” is less than ideal, it involves walking through an open field, to cutting through the parking lot of school, then a short mile through an unfortunate neighborhood. I’ve just entered the field, the long dead grass always bites my ankles as I walk through it. In the very middle of this godforsaken patch of infertility, I see a group of people. I’ve never seen anyone here, ever.

Due to the circumstances of the neighborhood I decide to simply avoid them, nothing good can ever come from any human interaction. But they’re making it hard to not watch them, incessant yelling and laughter, and the glow of four red dots.

I guess I don’t mind them, they’ve never hurt me, and couldn’t if they wanted to. They don’t see me, let alone judge me, so I suppose I should do them the same courtesy. I even remain unabashed when the loudest of the bunch drops his glowing red dot, setting a small fire. From that you’d expect them to panic and try to put it out, they simply walk away.

Spark turns to flame, the wind blows and the fire spreads, the white smoke clouds my eyes and tears subsequently run down my face. These are the first tears I’ve had in years, if only they were visceral. By the time my vision clears the fire has erupted into a complete bonfire. Almost half the field is roaring. And in the inferno, I see an almost human face, perfectly personified.

I stare the blaze in it’s eyes and ask it, “Why?”

It glares at me with fervor and passion only dreams can produce.

“Why not?” It howls.

Fair enough, I walk faster so as to avoid the flames, and I see the parking lot. Avoided the demon, I suppose.

The parking lot is the exact same as the field, but the dead grass is replaced with cold asphalt; and this location is blessed enough to not have any inhabitants. Walking across the lot I gently thank it for being so desolate. It seems to rumble a little, reciprocating. The sun is rising behind me, the fire is now as infinite as ever. The air is red, and the sky is pouring ruby tears. And due to this rush of light, my Shadow forms in front of me. The odd angle of the beacons of light cause it to be obscenely obscured. Terribly long, and almost vermiform. And much larger than I. The Shadow rises from the ground and stands face-to-face with me. I would feel extreme fear of this specter, if I could feel anything at all.

The Shadow is now in perfect opposition to me, we both refuse to speak. A dissenting mirror. It slowly points. The fire behind has now settled, all remaining, a bed of glow, a cloud of ash. The cloud rises and torrents toward us. With a gush of wind it envelops the Shadow, spirals it, melds with it. True form revealed. I now stand in front of a true Demon, a monstrous Shadow. An analog of Pain, Cataclysm, and Truth.

So what now? The ultimate conflict with my sub-conscience Demon made tangible. I could open my jaw and scream a song of pure Light. I could let my eyes absorb the Shadow, and fill my veins with dark power. Few are blessed with such a confrontation.

What to do when you’re faced with the battle of a lifetime? When you can completely erase, or embrace, your Shadow and the worldly Ash surrounding it?

Naturally, I walk around it. And forever understand, that I will never touch the Light, or fight the Shadow. And with this, I discover just how isolated it all is, we are all made up of tiny prisons known as atoms, and that even in the most lucid of situations, blindness prevails.

I am almost “home.” The fire has subsided, the Shadow has left, and the air is cold again. The smell of smoke is fading, and nothing has changed one bit. When you live life in the fault lines, incapable of shedding emotion, surreal nights like these don’t merit much.

Tonight, I succeeded in my goal of simply existing while the whole world around me screams of fire and electricity, of neurons and axons, of hearts and synapses. Simply existing.

The Sun has risen, and the sound of morning can be heard, but I am already inside. I crawl into my cold bed, under my cold covers, and into my cold sheets. I contemplate the concept of “hollow,” and with that, this runs through my mind.


I wonder was a future like this holds:
Discontent with living
Bored with dying

Numb is all I’ve ever known.

What is this pulse I feel?





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