Allowing me to construct more weapons.
However, my perfect blacksmith life
Would soon be devastated and reduced
To the dirt that encased the ore.
A messenger approached my shop and handed me a letter.
I peeled away the wax seal and unraveled the scroll.
As I read the words that etched their way deep into my brain,
I had no one to blame but myself.
The words were my banishment
From the blacksmith community in the region.
The signature of all my colleagues on the mountain
Sealed my fate in the area.
I was no longer recognized as a blacksmith
By the surrounding kingdoms.
The stamps of each king made it official.
I kept reading the letter again and again
With the hopes that it would have a different outcome.
With paper in hand, I walked outside and
Looked up to the stars for any type of forgiveness,
But found none.
I felt as if my entire self-being imploded.
I had nothing left.
I had no desire to finish any of my projects
As no one would be there to claim them.
As I sat accompanied by my friend of misery,
I heard the faint sound of the wagon wheels coming up the path.
Along with the squeaking
Was the howling of the wind in a rhythmic pattern.
I looked down the path and saw Levi pulling the wagon
Being followed by several wild wolves.
The scene somehow coincided with the letter and
Offered me a vision of death with Levi being the grim reaper.
I stared at him slowly coming up the path
With the wheels and wolves providing him support.
I could not help, but think about my life without him.
I go back to the moment I met him.
More specifically when I asked him to work for me.
I would have never known of the special ore
If it were not for him.
The cart still approached, but unlike the other times
I was not eager for it to arrive.
I offered the wheels no excitement.
I felt it whistling around my head desiring attention,
Trying to penetrate my skull like a claw to ice.
The sound only reminded me of what I had done so
I forcefully blocked my ears to protect my thoughts,
But it was useless as still it crept closer.
Levi approached me with a demeanor
As if he already was aware of the situation.
He told me that I had done well in the task,
That the outcome was to his liking.
I looked up from the letter
With a bewildered expression for clarity.
His smile offered me nothing in return.
He continued with his mysterious praise of me
By adding that I made his chore easy for him.
He proclaimed that I had chosen the path
Of envy over humility when tempted by the ore.
I wish I could have blocked out his words
As I had done so many times before,
But there was nothing to offer me that solitary.
I did not know who he was anymore.
With disgust written on my face, I asked him.
He restated his name as Leviathan.
He said that his friends did not call him Levi
Because he had no friends.
His task was to expose my weakness with the ore.
That he had succeeded.
I ask him if he killed my striker and
He responded with only a smile.
The question prompted him
To approach the wagon and tilt it upright
So that it would unload the cargo.
Instead of a pile of ore,
The rotted corpse of my previous striker
Rolled to the ground before me.
The stench of the decayed flesh
Assaulted my senses as I vomited.
The flesh was crawling with insects and caked with dirt.
Levi said the striker was easy prey
Within the darkened mine.
He said without care that he simply stalked him and
Drove a pick axe into his chest.
He went on to say that he did not die right away,
But no one would hear his call that far down in the mine.
It all came clear to me
As I recalled his body dragged
Beyond the torches.
The fact that Levi had no wagon of his own
At the mine entrance.
I was furious with him,
Not only for bringing that fate to me,
But his lack of respect towards me.
The anger built up within me so much
That I lunged at him.
I did not know what I was going to do to him,
But my pulsating heart required action.
He anticipated my attack and swiftly blocked my arm.
He struck me once in the head, blurring my vision,
And once in the ribs that sent me back to the ground.
He told me that I should not have done that.
His arrogance only infuriated me more
As I reached for a nearby pick axe.
I wanted him dead and he knew it.
Anything less would be unsatisfactory for me.
I tried my luck again, this time backed by a weapon.
Before my swing could connect with him,
He grabbed the handle and twisted it.
His strength spun my wrist in an unusual manner
Forcing me to release the axe.
I looked up in time to see the axe coming down upon me.
The blade funneled deep into my upper chest above my heart.
The force was so strong that I felt the blade exit my back.
Levi followed closely to me as
I was trying to retreat on the ground.
He picked up a shovel from the ground and
Jabbed my stomach, just enough to make a point.
He said he could easily kill me, but he would not.
He added that he would receive more enjoyment
Out of seeing me dwell in my choice and
The fact that I could no longer have my precious ore.
Instead of killing me
He swung the shovel into the axe handle.
The vibration rattled my wound and
Sent tremors deep into my chest.
The pain was intense and
Made it difficult to breathe at times.
He stood above me staring into my eyes and said nothing.
I felt his vision piercing my mind
As if trying to read it.
If he was looking for pain and suffering,
Then he would find a great deal of it
As they were the only feelings I had left.
He owned all of my other emotions already
And added them to his sadistic collection of grief.
He leaned back from me and grinned.
With the wagon empty and me no longer a threat,
Levi began to load up my remaining stockpile of ore.
He paused for a moment and said
That he was going to deliver the ore to its rightful owner.
My mind fell away from the pain.
It was replaced with jealously over the idea,
But there was nothing I could do.
I asked him why he betrayed me.
His response was that he did nothing but offer me a choice.
He said his task was simply,
Provide me an alternative way
That I eagerly accepted.
Everything he said was true, but
It did not make the reality any easier to comprehend.
I was lost in my emotions and
Did not know what to think.
My entire life and credibility had vanished.
I could have easily continued down my original path
With ore from my own mines,
But the idea of someone else
Using that special ore for trinkets cut at my heart.
The utter disgust that I felt for that blacksmith
Was real and justified in my eyes.
I should have been the one
Who owned that resource, not him.
He did not deserve that quality and
It did not deserve him.
I saw the potential in it.
I released its inner power, not him.
Levi sensed my continued frustration
Even under the worst conditions.
He offered me more praise and
Said that dwelling on my feelings
Only made me stronger and that one day
I would be glad that I did.
He added that the weak minded
Often times toss aside their true feelings
Before they are able to fully revitalize them;
Therefore they are buried into the subconscious and
Can never fulfill their potential.
He added that I would be successful and
That he looked forward to seeing me again.
I had no idea what he was referring to, but
The vision of seeing him again was not something
That I wanted, as my first encounter with him
Had not ended to my advantage.
Levi loaded up the last of the ore
And offered one piece of advice.
He said that I should have thought about the outcome.
The words caught me off guard
As he said them in an evil demeanor.
The outcome was something that never occurred to me
When he first held up that lone piece of ore.
My mind portrayed no other option, but desire.
I initially wanted the ore for personal use,
But the notion of the other blacksmith
Twisted my desire into envy.
Once I released that emotion, I was lost at sea.
I found it odd that the only time
I dwelled on the outcome was in the outcome itself.
It made me think that my mind did not allow me
To choose, as it had already chosen for me.
It persuaded me with many positives and no negatives.
The wheels of the wagon squeaked
Along the path for the last time.
I saw Levi delivering my quality ore to the other blacksmith.
I laid at the entrance of my shop
With a pick axe protruding from my chest, a dead striker,
A destroyed career and lasting envy
Towards something that I could no longer have.
~
The silence is growing.
I feel that when each of my
Shadowy friends leaves
That they take a piece of my soul with them.
Each departure adds to my misery and solitude.
The compounded pressure of sadness
On my mind is reaching its apex.
I am afraid that I may not venture
Out of my situation alive.
My mind has become an enemy and depicts my death.
I try to battle it, but it is too strong and overwhelming
With vivid images of my demise.
It is apparent that my mind can no longer
Relate to the confinement and
Is exploring other options for escape.
The visions of my own passing are so vivid
That they leave an aftermath of
Disgust and denial within me.
I feel my hatred for my mind increasing
As I reside in vengeance.
Does my mind hate me so,
That it has resorted to cursing
My thoughts with death?
It torments me in my wake and
Infects my dreams in my sleep.
I choose not to become its prey
Even though it stalks me always.
I have no choice but to battle and
Defend myself from its onslaught.
If not, I fear that it will entrap me and
Poison me for eternity.
If that were to occur,
I dread that I would no longer
Have a free mind and
The ability to think on my own.
If it were in full control,
I worry for my safety and for those around me.
Regardless of how much I fight,
The harsh realism is that I am losing the battle,
For it is much too strong for me to deny.
The struggle weakens my body and
Slowly consumes my muscles.
Why does my mind do this to me?
Why does it choose suffering over satisfaction?
The images of my death
Do not stop and grow more rapid
If I try to avoid them.
Each vision depicts my suffering
In various forms of torture.
My mind is very creative in this aspect,
But the sorrow that dwells within me
Does not allow me to respect the talent.
I have come to know death so well
That I am close to befriending the concept.
Death comes to me and fills my thoughts.
It is the only logical exit from life.
When the mind becomes so torturous and
Offers only pure resentment to the soul;
Death offers a solution.
I will not coward to my mind;
I will not allow it to conquer me
As I believe that I would be gifted
An eternity of evilness if I were to take my own life.
My mind wants me to die
So that it would rule in the afterlife,
But I will not allow this.
I will defeat it and overcome its sadistic visions
As I do not wish to encounter the alternative.
Only two of my friends remain
In the shadows and I sense that
They are eager to follow their comrades.
Somehow my transcriptions relate to them and set them free.
This is only one of my many questions
That I have about my situation.
I only hope that I will have a few of them
Answered upon reaching the apex.
If not, I will not dwell on them.
I imagine that having my own life back will suffice me.
I try to think positively about
What will occur after my task is completed,
But my mind distorts the thoughts and suffocates them.
I begin thinking about my farm and livestock
Then the idea is morphed into a life of flame.
Not to give my mind any satisfaction,
I often cease my thoughts
Trying to think of nothing in particular.
If it is thoughts that feed it, then I will starve it.
This process does provide anger
As when a vision does travel through my blockade,
It is intense in detail and devastating in its results.
I am determined to not have a thought within my head,
Not as an insult to God,
Rather an infliction to my mind.
I cannot continue on like this and
Allow the visions to consume me.
I have done nothing to deserve this.
I have only desired freedom for my dreams and
Cannot achieve it as long as my mind is in control.
I often times find myself rubbing my skull
In an ill attempt to soothe my mind,
But it spits on me in return
By supplying me with rapid thoughts of di
smay.
It is trying to break my spirit and
I am afraid that it is achieving its goal with each passing period.
What does it want from me?
To surrender? To kneel before it?
To recognize it as a God when I know that it is not?
I will not give it death.
I will not sacrifice myself for its cause.
If it is my death that it desires
Then it will not be happy with the judgment.
I have little control left, but the small portion I
Do have will hold onto life with a slippery grip.
My mind may be pulling at my conscious,
But I will resist as my final act of defiance.
I feel my mind is listening to me and
It is rattled within its skull.
It is desperate for a new vision,
To subdue my increase in self-righteousness, but
It will not succeed.
The confusion that it is experiencing
Is empowering me.
It gives me a brief calmness that is much appreciated.
I am enjoying this peace
As I know it will not last.
The determination of my mind is much too strong
To allow me with victory.
I dwell in this period before the storm
For I know that it is conjuring something
More destructive and so explicitly detailed
That it will devastate me.
Until then, I am at peace and all is right.
I do not worry about what is to come
Or when it will occur.
To do that would be an insult to the small victory
That I have achieved.
Instead I offer my mind a simple smile
As it contemplates its next move,
Not as a gesture of revulsion or insult,
Rather as a way to inform it that I am here to play.
I would be lying
If I were to deny that the small triumph
Did not give me some satisfaction and increase my ego,
But I realize that it will be short lived,
The Sinner 01 The Sinner Page 22