From the Heart Desolation

FROM THE HEART DESOLATION

And suddenly. In a moment, though ordinary it was, awakening struck him. A certain revelation, rising deep from the core where thoughts are given birth. But this revelation did not arrive like a grand insight, carried on the wings of liberty, no, but chained to a shackles of a slave. Slave to a simpler faith. Crippling terror rose through his spine, as if his eyes would have now opened for the first time. As like his beating heart would have halted for a few moments, slowly leaking out the last remnants of the divine spark contained within each man. This grand purging of emotions revealed twenty years of his life lived and seeing world concealed by a mundane veil, faint experiences and echoes of a life beyond it, never realized, never accomplished to their fullest potential shivering in his heart growing cold. A life lived in a state of half-being. As a substitute in a theater of life to a main role which was him. He walked into a study of the house where he and his family dwelt. Into a dark room, only last and faint rays of the setting sun poured from the partially concealed windows, glowing in the dust and heavy evening interior air. Last days of summer, slowly to be turned towards fall and winter. Evening air carrying the scent of sweet blossom and the adorning golden light. By the picturesque view, grand beauty was seen. Memorable in composition in every sense but still bringing a hint of sadness. Like a commemoration to the days of old, comforting to the thought of letting go. Accepting a simpler faith. A last remembrance, where awakened man would give his dreams away into the fading sunlight, to be carried away in the receding rays to a place where they would wait for him.

He walked to a drawer. Slowly, with subtle motions of sadness, drew out a compartment, and took away a small box. A box for his own secret life. Little kingdom of his own dreams. He closed the office door and with careful movements, not to introduce any extra noise, turned the key in the lock to prevent further entrance. With this small box, carrying with carefulness and respect like a relic of old, he sat at his office desk, massive oaken one. He lit candles in order to read in the dimming light. When the lighting was proper for him to proceed, a small key was required to open this little box. He inserted the delicate key into the miniature lock, and careful not to do any damage, and with a slight excitement turned the lock open. It had been years and years the last time the contents of this box were revealed. He now raised the cap of the box, where his heart was contained. Emptying the contents carefully to the desk, now all his dreams were laid in front of him. From childhood and youth, everything this life of his was planned for.

For long a feeling of a desire, dying deep within his being had haunted him. Though at the exterior, nothing was wrong, life well lived with family in a great house in a beautiful place. Tranquillity of repetition governing every day. But in a sense these blessings of comfort were also chains for him. A feeling of something worth pursuing not pursued, to perform each and every moment far below one’s possible true potential. The smallest and most important mystery of life had disappeared. And now, later he realized it. From the thoughts of his, dreams were dismissed. From the endeavors of his, pursuing had been banished. And the dreams and the deeds were left along the years to die, like a small but resistant flame eventually failing under a raging storm. All words left unspoken. All deeds left undone. And now this battered soul would be condemned to bear this truth along with him into the end of his days, that he and only he was responsible for this dire outcome of all things.

The long awaited examinations of all these invaluable documents began. All of this, completely one side of his persona locked inside this small container, he was quickly falling into thoughts. And he was taken away with the memories, and that long lost warmth was felt again. The grey curtain of all the years of a life less lived was rolled back. The green grass, ending into a dark treeline with a massive oak guarding the division line. Laughter of young age. The days of summer, anticipation of a coming rain and thunderstorm. Just to feel it from the warmth of the house. The old wooden boards of it’s floors, creaking under steps. The upstairs, his very own chamber of secrets. The feeling of the house breathing it’s own life, a watchful and gentle guardian, a protector to all of his dreams and hopes. The welcoming atmosphere when the experiences had let him down, and a place was required for recovery. And a open heart. The passion with which all the important things were brought forth to others. Family or unknown, the dreams were gladly expressed, detailed and rediscovered and carried out with extravagant speech, babbling with pride. The looks on listeners faces, how their hearts were captured on that instant, by the starlight emanating from his eyes.

A smile, sorrowful but a smile still, expression long ago discarded as useless, found once again it’s place from the features of this old man’s face.

Form of a young man, leading a life governed only by a horizon of dreams, and a vivid hope of someday touching it. The bleak world of the present was disseminated from around him, and for that small and vanishing moment he was happy again.

Suddenly thrusted away from the memories, into a dark and lonely room. The candles had died away, and the sun had set for different skies. Crushing, uneasy darkness and shadows of the ordinary crept from the dark corners. The inspiring horizon was lost, and inevitable sorrow whipped his soul. No time to relight the dreams anymore. Years of life wasted. Wasted into plain and hollow things, into words that would only, and only echo forever into nothingness.

What have I done? When did I lost my life?

These bitter feelings captured his mind. And emptiness, more profounding than the void between the stars was set into his heart. Only dark was with him as he sat frozen at his desk, the contents of this box slowly sliding from his hands onto the table, staring into the dark emptiness, and the faint starlight emanating from the sky.