Long, dark corridors and forever winding roads

He couldn’t move a muscle. He just sat there incapable of motion or emotion. He felt like he was from another dimension, like he was the only member of the audience sitting on centrestage in the middle of a play, not capable of anything more than the most basic involvement. And like any ordinary day, this man just sat there and watched. Above the crowd, above the people, above the life that is ordinarily ours. He could hear something distinct now, a familiar ringing in his head. It was the canopy under which his opinions grew, the immortal spring from which his decisions stemmed, the mould which cast the man he was. It was the image of himself that was inescapable, an image he found, was etched into the walls along every corridor in his soul. The chalk that marked the path for every stray line of thought, idea and emotion. A surreal fragment of his ego dictated to the man who dictated to a million others. It was conscious and subconscious; he could not resist that which he derives his strength from. To a man who cannot have friends, it remained his only solace. And once again he closed his eyes and tapped into that source again. And his lips began to move, whispering the words that made the man he is, and his father before him and all his forefathers as long back as he could remember

Above.. Beyond.. Beyond the wall of infinity, shattering that ultimate band. Above pride and humility, caressing life and land. Above the patron of divinity, endowed with the giving hand, Above the messenger in black, out of life, making sand. Above all good and all evil, all that is powerful and all that is real, all of time and all that is material.. In solitude, I stand

As a wave of strength filled his pores, he bit back a shudder and breathed as deeply as he could. When he opened his eyes, what struck him first was the futility of it all. Barely ten thousand men it took to defeat a country that stood for ten thousand years. Ten thousand men who would fill this room in less than half an hour. A room where jesters and dancers, poets and players were desperately trying to entertain. He looked around, trying to read their minds at this moment. Somehow, they all looked like mannequins that day. The jester was a laugh riot. Genuinely bumbling, knees buckling, speech stammering, profusely perspiring, an unbridled messy mass of fear. For once, the clown was truly funny. All the more so because that day, the clown was not he who was dressed like one. The dancers whose knees did not buckle, whose minds did not care. The poet whose words and praises were normally empty were now filled with sarcasm, half a smile decorating his lips and disdain resonating through his voice. The priest with his curses in disguise. How much longer, how much more, how many more would he have to take. The anticipation in the room infected him without a conscience

The air became so heavy he couldn’t breathe. The room was filled with a stench like he had never imagined. The smell of fear, and of loathing, affection and admiration, of defeat and victory, above all he could not take the smell that came from himself. A smell of defiance with a flavor of shame. A smell that could smother the heavens and scar the gods.

Finally, it came. The thud on the great big door ran a shiver through the room’s spine. The room sank into a silence that could be heard outside. The great big door opened and in they came, without passion or emotion, in unison they came, ten thousand men in uniform, and they filled the room, driving away the stench of anticipation. He could breathe now. He smiled and as they marched towards him, he shifted his weight onto one side and raised his right leg slowly and placed it gently upon his left. They walked up the flight of stairs, a sense of accomplishment written on their face. He noticed something weird about them. They all had the same expression, they all had the same face. As they walked towards him with swords in arms outstretched, he smiled. He smiled and he made up his mind not to close his eyes. He did not look, he did not stare, he did not see, but he did not close his eyes. And he began to say it all over again, once again. Above.. Beyond.. Beyond the wall of infinity..