Greats,
The King sees the many marching upon the hill.
They cry and scream and scramble to the top.
The sorrow, the pain that runs in their all veins. He cuts himself open to show there is no prize that one can attain.
He bleeds just like them. They have hope in the sky but know not that the sky is empty. Yet they march to the top, blind as can be.
They march in hate and anger, in fear and desperation. They clamber to the top, their saviour is near, it must be so, surely. They have not come all this way for nothing?
Amused the King sits back and prays for their souls. For when the answer arrives they will many crumble and fall.
Standing aside, he once took the same journey as they. Nostalgia, the scent of pain. How cute those days, how feeble the effort. Anything less than life is a payment too small.
We all pay the toll, some more happily than others.
Reality does not change, no matter the shades that cover your eyes. Should you wish otherwise then you are in opposition to truth. What shame is that? none, for yours is as good as any. But mine, is better than yours, because it is mine; it comforts me and wraps around me. Every knife that penetrates brings with it warmth. Every foul demon, a new soul to befriend. Every love a gift to cherish to your core. There is no respite for the brave for by definition they cannot co-exist. To be brave is to be wonderful, and wonders do not appear by themselves. They appear in the world, pushed up by the many multitudes that sacrificed themselves for it. And so “no respite”, is but a token of respect for the many who gave their lives, who trod through mud and blood so that we may have life. A chance to endure the gusts of the ether as it yearns to debone us and ingest our residuals.
All in good time my friend, all in good time. We will return to that which we are promised, for nature is an entity of its word.
If you have blessed yourself by staring death and life and the stories in between directly in the face, until you became one with it; then your only task remains to stand at the ready when those around you one day call out for help, as they have seen the demons and know not that the demons are likewise, scared, out of their wits, with none to comfort them and their already judged souls.
There is no prize and we are all the same; so you can run away, up the hill, or you can stay. But in the end, it is all the same, the answer remains, unchanged. You cannot be harmed any more nor less than the end that comes.
So crack a smile, for you may be here a while.
Your deepest well-wisher,
— 🧙♂️
I guess if you’re reading this then you’re already one of the Greats.