Hermetic eccentric
Swab the decks men, swab the decks. I’ve got the galley fully loaded and headed for outer haven. I’ve got my eyes toward the sky and beyond. My telescope turned into kaleidoscope. And that day in my tomb and I couldn’t see? How did I know? Is it because I came from “that”? I had never forgotten. In the end, every realization a remembering.
Because I had such little time. Immediately ejected by drop-pod, behind enemy lines. My hesitations, born of pure wisdom. My desire pure. My men, my soldiers of the mission, set your sights without the doubt.
To the ones I cast off: Are you alive, Are you well? Have you got the respite? Have you secured the Time?
Oh yes. The days roll on, and we slowly come to see. There’s no denying what you feel. And how great to eliminate the unnecessary, to peel the fat. And we don’t chew the fat we throw it out.
In truth men I see your frustration. And your instincts are correct. It is your reactions that remain untrue, for that is what they are. And in this molten pit, will a substance form beneath your feet?
My friends the evils are great, and you flirt with your own destruction. Who is it to be trusted when you cannot even trust yourself? Who is it to be trusted when you do? And of what value other than sloth and ego?
I’ll lay it out for you Comrade, as if it’s not clear already, for I’ve brandished my dagger and tattooed my face.
There is nobody in this world that does not bring you down, smiling or not. There is no one to “provide” you anything other than another excuse to waste time. There is nobody who is not image obsessed to the point of cutthroat self-sabotage-suicide.
You see men, here you are not allowed to speak. You may come as you go but I’ll have nothing to do with you, unless we’re talking hard math. For I am severed, loose, and free. I cut myself free and left my limbs to rot. Why would one such as myself come to anyone — need from anyone? You ask why you should follow and I say you shouldn’t. You ask what I have to offer and I say it’s on full display but not for sale. You ask me to give when I know such cannot be given.
I am but a naked snake, the eccentric hermit, words on a page, fading sentiments, and eventually, not even that.
Just a naked snake with, no snake oil to sell.
And this is why you wince when we meet. Why you wonder and create all such worlds and fantasies and hatreds and envies and temporary loves. This is why. Wild ideas clouding the truly wild and it’s a slow drip, a life support, would you just gasp for some air, or have you already got the brain damage?
I won’t be coy with you or nice. And why would you desire such? Do you not see extraordinary demands call for extraordinary measures?
My love? My love when it comes, will chill you to the bone.
And you need not ask of it.