Eye of a metallic silver storm

Anon metallic silver storm


The Recluse

The recluse knew from the second that he was self aware that he wanted to be a recluse. More than anything else that mattered to him this was his one self-fulfilling prophecy. He did not pray for it nor did he relinquish its delicate hold over him, he just knew that it felt like the first taste of love… It was the one position that he held that had any value for him. He recognised in it that he had become exclusive to himself and to his own point of readjustment, where he did not need to readjust his settings for those around him that he had for so long carried inside on some level.

There came a point in his life, when he decided this was this the only goal he wanted to work towards, and for, suddenly nothing else mattered or was as significant to him. He felt the pull of this desire, one that superseded all others, and even felt as if it were his calling. The sound of the voice that persuaded him was none that could be audibly recognised, for none in the Universe had ever heard this particular voice speak. He knew when he heard it that it was the only path to be taken and that it felt perfect to him, he realised that all points led to this and now it was a matter of how to fulfil it without the pretences of making out it was some kind of spiritual path of soul searching because it certainly wasn’t, nor was it a religious act of faith for him.

It was a timebomb, always ticking inside him.

The seed had planted itself for so long and it germinated in such a way that he felt at times as if roots were actually penetrating the souls of his feet to ground him to his cause. He had no intention he decided to explain this journey or it’s motivation for none would have understood what trigger could have made it his life long initiative.

It began today, and when it entrenched itself in his mind that this was the very day, everything changed, as if connection and reconnections, familiarities and past associations, closeness or investments were now slowly disintegrating, grated cheese that shredded and shredded.

Once he made his decision everything felt whole, he felt whole and segments of vague comprehensions that he had for a short period recognised as something pertinent to his being no longer felt vital to it, considerations and cares that he had played host to no longer interested him and someplace he realised this had been a series of stepping stones that for a couple of weeks had invited him to step across… with each step he had felt a renewed vigour and he had found himself clarifying it sometimes in a moment when he engaged in the kind of rippling dialogue that one would have later contemplated as a meaningful event… From this moment he felt that every meeting or communication from this day hence would be one where he was entirely removed from the subject that he was, to be an object that was. One where there would be no more of who he was up until today, and that person would never be found by another person because from his eyes would stare out a vacant single cell.

Such was his profound and acute awareness of this important discovery that he wanted to share it finally, with one person, and once he had heard his own words aloud, he knew he was never going to discuss it or reflect on it again, for this was his steps into this freedom of expression one that he felt pervading all levels of his shell and then beyond and within.
For the journey for him had begun…. He started by typing dots…………… infinitely……………. until there were no more left.