MiningComments on self
Death be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadful, for, thou art not so.
Character Introduction
Feeling tired and seeking a moment's rest, you sit alone with your thoughts
when your subconscious alerts you to another presence.
You turn to find the sobbing spirit of a female child.
As she looks at you with forlorn sadness, fear and confusion contort her once innocent
features and tears well behind her incorporeal eyes. As she begins to weep, you hear the
pleading cries of not one but one-million such lost souls and share in their suffering as
the burden of their untimely deaths lay upon your heart. You avert your eyes,
hardening your conscience against the tragedies of this world, until once again...all is silent.
You reopen your eyes to discover that the ghostly girl has
vanished to be replaced by an angelic man.
At once you are struck by the stark contrast between the pale of his skin,
the white of his eyes, and his deep black irises. Pupil and iris mingle producing
pristine pools, which you imagine recind into the dark reaches of his innermost
being or perhaps, unsettlingly, your own. Although he exudes a quiet confidence,
you sense that brimming just beneath those black spheres there exists in him a
profound anguish and lamentation, such that it nearly pains you to stand in his
presence. As you focus on those lightless orbs, you feel momentarily lost and
they envelop your perception. Like singularities they seemingly consume all
surrounding sights and sounds, and you are gripped by an uncanny fear of isolation.
It is as if all that now remains in this universe is your consciousness,
spinningsilently amidst an infinate expanse of starless space.
And as quickly as it had faded...
...reality returns.
Startled, you unthinkingly stammer, "who are you", and wish that you had maintained
the presence of mind to simply be silent. In a harsh whisper the being speaks saying,
My Past
"Through the millennia of my existence, I have been called by many
names, Michael, Samael, and Azrael among them, though they all share but
one meaning. I have wrought more bloodshed than the most ruthless and most
powerful of warriors, because each of their kills I number among my own. I am
an Angel of Death, or rather I was. The ultimate power over life and
death is not wielded without cost, and I was forced to judge only according
to the will of my Master. So, for moral and physical freedom, I have
forgone my immortal coil, choosing to become as those whom I once judged.
Just as there can be no light without darkness and no good without evil, so
would my freedom be without meaning in the absent recollection of my former
self. But authority over one's decisions is also not without cost. Ego and
conscience join in constant battle as one builds self and the other
deconstructs it, and so it is that I am tormented by those past deeds
although they were not truly my own.
Unable to forget the past and unwilling to ascend again to my immortal
state of servitude, I seek to reconcile my deeds within the limits of
mortal cognition and to define my own perception of moral order. Lacking
the foresight granted by existence in the higher dimensions, all of my past and
present actions are bound by and must be examined within the confines
of causality and its unknown ends. "
He releases a long sigh and turns from you,
choosing to bear the burdens of his previous existence alone.
۞۞
I Chronicles 21
So the Lord sent a plague
upon Israel,
and 70,000
people died
as a result.
And God
sent an angel
to destroy
Jerusalem.
But just as
the angel was
preparing to destroy it, the Lord relented
and said to the death angel,
“Stop! That is enough!”
۞At that moment, David looked up and saw the angel of the Lord۞
standing between heaven and earth with his
sword drawn,
reaching out
over Jerusalem
So David and
the leaders of
Israel put on
burlap to show
their deep distress
and fell face
down on the
ground. And
David said to
God, “I am
the one who
has sinned and
done wrong!
But these people
are as innocent
as sheep what
have they done?
Then the Lord
spoke to the
angel, who
put the
sword
back
into
its
sheath.
My Present
She was my final memory of immortal existence, and the first I have of these realms.
I awoke as if from a dream and there, standing amidst the din of the Marble Dale Park, her
quiet spirit looked upon the people with solemnity. I recognized her immediately. Such
radiant beauty is not soon forgotten, but, being drawn to her in this life as well as my last,
I knew that the pull I felt transcended such physical manifestations. Emboldened by this, I
confidently approached and offered a genuine smile. Even as she grieved her mighty presence
was daunting, and I was pleased that, though she had not known me, her tearful eyes showed
a glimmer of recognition. Noting her troubled expression, I spoke with sincerity offering
whatever aid I could to such a wounded soul. She spoke in generalities at first, unsure or
perhaps unaware of my intentions, but each moment that passed strengthened the bond
between our souls. She smiled, likening me to her Father and soon she trusted
and confided fully in me.
I still recall her letters: sent in confidence, smelling of sweet perfume as if pressed from
the petals of roses, and requesting my presence. Twice we had sought solitude in the
library cellars. Two times had we so met in the privacy of that place, and there she recounted
memories of her past and lamented visions of her future. She spoke of her unyielding love for
these lands and the people herein, a love unrequited by those with fickle hearts and a land with
no longer a place for her. I met her plea for reasons to remain at first with comforting words
and at last with a promise to sacrifice my mortality on her behest. Twice she had relied on me
and two times had I failed, and yet she remained.
As time wore on, I made my loyalty to her known through attentiveness and action, a silent
vow of servitude and adoration. However, I felt that she deserved to know the reason for
the connectedness we shared. We met again in the library cellars, this time upon my bidding.
She nodded to me as she entered, and we shared a smile before I took a calming breath.
Nervous, I spoke saying, “From the moment that I first saw you, I had felt that we were
kismet - two souls existing as one, woven together by the fates.” I paused to judge her
reaction before tentatively asking if she had felt the same. Again she nodded, timid and
uncertain of my motives. “Then there is something that I must tell you, though I fear how
it will be accepted”, I said, looking into her eyes with sadness behind my own. “I was there
that fateful desert morning, and your final deed as a living creature was my last task as an
immortal. It was the last time that I answered the calling of my namesake…” My voice
trailed off, as I focused on the memories. “I saw us in ironic juxtaposition and watched as you
eagerly followed your Father while I reluctantly resisted my own, and our wills clashed as
you sought death and I desired to unbecome it. As I stood near to you, concealed from those
of this dimension, I peered deep into your eyes, and I was awed to find such fire and conviction
in the freedom of one so frail. As you writhed in pain upon the desert floor I grieved, not for
your plight, but for my own as I yearned to know such emotion and dedication for myself.
Then, as I wrestled with myself in your tent, I saw the juxtaposition complete, for when
you returned to this realm, loosed from the bonds of mortality, I fell from my heavenly
station ready to accept them.” I sighed, a mixture of relief and regret, as I awaited
her response. She nodded a final time, and smiled softly in acceptance and understanding.
“So it is that we are here, and I have viewed you as a father does a daughter ever since.”
There is beauty in mortality.
A casual urgency
in the knowledge that all of this will one day pass away,
and that we exist in brevity.
It's such a simple irony.
Our only certainty
is an unknown end, which grants us both a reckless need
and peace in our fragility.
Our course is through obscurity.
Such grand facility
of the illusion of purpose that all of those among us
seek to leave a legacy.
However...
There is nothing in eternity.
A final vanity
in the foresight that nothing fades, that all is free of change,
and remains in grand stability.
It's such a dreadful tragedy.
To see with clarity
that our every action, and that each decision, merely delivers us
closer to inevitability.
The cursed move through infinity.
Such flawed divinity
removes all purpose, and shatters all illusion,
revealing true calamity.
My Future
Under Construction...