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The condemned man paces within his cell. He has accepted a life sentence
of solitary confinement as a just price for his actions. Although he sometimes
wishes things were different, as most do, he knows that his choices were,
and are his own. Still, being alone for so long, sometimes he longs for companionship,
someone with similar ambitions.
His cell, he fashioned with his own hands, an aesthetic coffin for his heart.
He built it up against an eternity of solitude. For though he is surrounded
at times by throngs of people, the rabble touches him not.
He opens himself guardedly to friends. Their transitory nature warms him
as if by flame, but the flame dies leaving him to carry on.
Alone he searches, with none to guide. Seeking truths hidden by mists; obscured
by millennia of society's perpetuation of lies. Striving to become more than
the tradition of status quo.
Few realize his ambition, fewer share his desires. The path he travels
is not readily visible. Unseen by limited eyes, he walks a perilous ledge.
His steps echo hollowly in his ears. He alone congratulates his accomplishments;
chastises his slow progression.
To his friends, he is the betrayer betrayed. Each has tasted the other's
blood oft times unknowingly. Concealing his wounds, they think him strong...
Thus when he falters he is left to himself. To heal re-opened festering lashes
to his soul and body... All too often self-inflicted... Conversely his glory
is his alone.
His own nemesis and greatest friend. His soul is the self-forged steel blade.
His own prophet and teacher. The complete being that always hungers for more.
The incomplete soul damned to never find solace in another.
He is the dreamer of dreams of power... Chooser of his own solitary path...
He is the Seeker of Immortality.
[© 1992 Joseph Wheeler, all rights reserved]