The soul and the star.

“The soul and the star.”

The seconds of my life tick by and shift shape like the man they pass for. Behind their guise the world can not afford to stand idle or by its chains be bound to dissolution. All things, great and small pay their coins to the gate keeper and by his key alone are set free. I am but a messenger for a soul far greater than the body it calls home. For in that soul there is no mistake, no hesitation, no imperfection. It knows me for all I am and loves me despite my missing parts. Or perhaps because of them.

It ebbs and flows between plains and finds no anchorage, save the bleeding synapses of my mind. It calls me safe harbor and I call it absolution. Each day, I wear a tethered chain around my neck and bound to it is the solar system. My solar system. Hanging low, it can hear the whispers of my beating heart. The tremble in it’s voice. And it offers a steady hand to guide me to comfort. It’s gravity holding together all things and lighting my path through the dark. A silly thing it would seem, to lead a man absent of destination to a river within himself. But some days I am thirsty for company and within me dwells a man; deserving.

This life is not mine. It is a gift given to me in trust. To protect with fury and love, so that one day I might earn the right to call it my own. To hear people tell it’s great stories and speak of it as one well lived and worthy of remembrance. I often think of the chaos that was once my only friend. He had no name. No face. No body. But was still real somehow. My only ally to fight off the chill of a cold bed. For within him burnt a fire built high on the back of a fallen hero. Nothing about him was real but because he could be what I could not, I trusted him. But in time, like a moth to flame, I was set afire. And all the while he just sat and watched me burn. So alive in what he had created. What he had destroyed.

Things have changed now though. These days I often dream of the scent of rain laid out like a blanket across a forest; evergreen. The ethereal song of my essence played like a lullaby to ease the world to sleep. It’s harmony ringing in tune with the vibrations of the earth itself, letting her know that everything will be ok. That it will all work out in the end. Realizing in that moment that I am her spirit and that she is all I am. But also that what we have done will not be what defines us. Every day is a new day, every hour is a new opportunity, and every breath? Every breath is a beauty far reaching in it’s effect and ability to quell the brooding storm.

Each day I work hard to find the next. To see the sunrise in all it’s beauty and add it, like a brick, to the walls of my sanctum. So that in times of weakness and fear I can retreat to it’s safe haven, drink it’s water, and have my strength renewed. To take lesson from the beautiful little ones of the planet and put down my guns. To breathe deep in the gift I was given and lift the weight of the crosses I bear.

I am still just a man after all. A messenger for a soul far greater. Tethered to this world by the same chain that hangs a star from my neck. Standing as a symbol in defiance of all things evil that reside here within me. With it’s fire holding me steady, I will make steel my shaken nerves and find the strength again to fight. And if there comes a time when I feel all is lost, I have but to place my hand upon it and trust that it will lead me home.

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