Tuesday, December 30, 2008

Even Titans...

It all starts with a snapping sound. A cracking. But does it really start there? It also ends here, that cracking sound breaking away the after from the before. The cracking was a change, a change in the body, a change in the mind. A bone snapped, and one knee went down, followed by the other. From standing, to kneeling, to crawling, all from one snap. It doesn’t stop there, it doesn’t begin there. But it was an end, it was a beginning.

It was long coming, but quite unexpected. It’s a strange feeling, to be sitting in the path of a storm, to know it’s coming and to know it will take you down, and to be unable to move away. On the ground, agonizing, wracked by pain, time slows down. Past events surge back. Standing seems like a distant memory. Thirty seconds on the ground, thirty seconds ago a man, now a worm. Life led in this direction, years of humanity, seconds of wormhood. Gone is all the pretention, gone is all delusions of grandeurs, with one snap, one crack, one moment, a grim reminder was issued: Even titans will fall.

The ground is cold, a new river is born. Born out of tears. Tears of rage, of pain, of anger. The tears of a dying man to whom even death is denied. Moving is impossible. Standing even harder. The ground is cold, but cannot swallow the pain. Eyes are closed, a primal shout is released. The pain will be shared with the world, the pain will be released. Silent pain made vocal, the shout would stop the most heartless of killers from plunging a knife into the heart of a desired victim. A shout like this, so rarely heard before, now echoes. The ground shakes, the animals in the forest are paralyzed by the pain the shout releases.

The ground is warmer, filling with the warmth of the fallen one. The newborn river dries up. The voice dies down, but the eyes open, a fire is burning. The flames from hell filling the fallen one’s soul or the fire of a burning sun, no one can tell. One breath is taken. The flames spread, from the eyes, to the face. It burns with pain, anger, rage. It spreads throughout the body, burning brightly. The comforting pain of the flames drown out the pain of the broken bones. On hand comes down hard on the ground, an echo of the original sound, the one that fell him. A second hand comes down. Air is exhaled. Like wind in a valley, the breath seems strong enough to blind anyone who would dare still be watching this. The muscles bulge, the effort seems beyond comprehension. Another breath is taken. A strong reminder: Even titans must crawl.

At arm’s length from the ground, no longer fallen, the worm becomes a dog. No more yelling is to be heard. The pain will be his, as it was, as it is, as it must be. No longer a curse, it becomes a gift. The pain, the one that paralysed him so, is now fuelling the fires of his heart. The dog will not remain dog much longer. A quadruped he is not. The eyes close again, this time not blinded by tears. A breath is taken again, this time not in despair. The fires burn bright, so bright that anyone watching would have to avert their eyes. No one is watching anymore they all vanished. Vanished under his weight when he fell, banished by the pain released in the shout, blown away by the breath that followed.

Alone, but not lonely. Lonely, but not alone. Pain is now a friend, an ally, a foe, a lover, an enemy. But pain is no longer a stranger, it will never be. But it no longer matters. The fire is burning brighter than ever, the river of tears is now dry. One foot finds the ground, the dog is no longer. He is kneeling. Breath in, breath out. The hands push, the earth itself seems to be reacting to this contact. Earthquakes must be happening elsewhere on the globe because of that push. The other foot finds the ground. The broken bone cannot even emit pain anymore. Pain no longer matters. Everywhere, people go on with their lives, unaware of the monumental event happening mere miles away. Knees crack, the hands leave the ground. The man that became worm, that became dog, has just become more than a man. Transformed by the fall. His eyes have changed. A powerful reminder: Even titans can rise.

[Now this one is a bit personal. People who know me a little know what this is generally about, some close friends can even know exactly what this represents. But I also want it to be about a "titan." I am exploring the limits of the idea that one should write what he knows. If you don't mind commenting, you could tell me what you thought this was about; I'm curious about that.]

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