Chains

The chains that bind my ankles and wrists jangle with each step that I take. Slowly, step after step becomes mile after mile. Every thought has fled my mind, save one.

Onward.

Every fiber of my being screams for me to keep going. I continue taking mindless steps forward, unsure of where I am going or what I am looking for. 

I have been walking through the blistering heat of afternoon and the arctic chill of night for days, but I don't recall how many. My lips are parched and chapped by the merciless wind. I have lost all sense of time and self. The only thing that remains within me is a sense of urgency. I must move on.

Blisters form on my feet, yet I continue to trudge forward. My stomach aches. I can't recall the last time I ate, and I have consumed every last drop that remained in my canteen. My hunger is crippling, and with each step the trailing links grow longer. I fall to my knees.

I am unable to get back on my feet. But I mustn't give up. Fueled by my iron will, I move forward on my knees. Soon, my knees can no longer support me and I collapse onto the ground.

I can not stop now, not here, in the middle of nowhere--where my existence will pass away without so much as a blink. I inch my way forward on my stomach using the little strength I have left, but it isn't long until that too is gone.

I lay paralyzed on the sand. All thoughts are lost, and I watch the vultures circling above me. They are hungry too.

My vision blurs. I can no longer see them.

The dusty color surrounding me fades to gray, and the lids of my eyes are getting heavier by the second. Keeping them open is a fight, one that I do not have the strength of will to win.

Blackness envelops me, and I feel as if I am nowhere and everywhere. Insubstantially existent, a part of nothing and everything all at the same time.




My eyes snap open. 

I am dazed. Confused.

Redundant.

Looking around, I try to orient myself. This is not the scene I remember. Where have the sand and the vultures gone?

Another dream?

An empty room now surrounds me. The sand is gone, but the same empty feeling of desolation that haunted me there has followed me here. I stand, and take a few steps. 

I am strong. 

I am strong?

I am walking again. I leave the house, and--not knowing anything better to do--begin to move down the cold cobblestone road. It is one hundred different shades of gray, each just as bleak as the last.

There is one thing different now--I am in a city filled with people. The chains that bind my ankles and wrists jangle with every step I take. Minutes turn to hours, and the sun quickly flees the sky.

The street lights are bright, the traffic is loud. I wander through the streets without a purpose. The resounding metallic sound of metal on stone accompanies every step I take.

The path I follow is turning to dark. I keep walking because it is the only thing I know how to do. But I am not alone this time. There are thousands of people walking on this road. Can they hear my chains? With each step they are getting heavier.

The eyes of the people are hollow, lifeless. No, they can't hear my chains. They can't hear anything.

I am surrounded by people, but I have never felt so alone. The wind is howling.

I am alone.




I have wandered from the beaten path. How I came to this place, I scarcely know.

In the darkness I sit, utterly alone. The cruel wind blows. It is an icy draft that chills me to the bone. My chains, which once merely bound me, now stretch a hundred miles behind me. The immeasurable weight of a lifetime of wandering steps is too much.

I am lost. I cannot move on.

But lo, a soft voice is calling?

It couldn't possibly be. It has been so long since I heard a voice.

Words drift over the vast landscape and fall on my ears a second time. My heart races as I listen to the words, though they are nearly indecipherable. Then, just as quickly as they came, they are lost again.

My head hangs in despair, all hope has fled.

'How came you to this place?' 

It is the voice. I sit still, I sit in fear.

'How came you to be here?' The voice, threatening, and icy as the wind, chilled me to the depths of my soul. The wind howled around me. Tears streamed down my face.

'SPEAK! From where do you come?'

My mind flashed back to the desert. Hot. Tired. Thirsty. Weakness. Chains. Blackness. Waking. Walking. Chains. People. Deaf. Alone. Wandering.

Alone. Wandering.

A single sob tore itself from my throat. The wind is merciless, stabbing like icy daggers. I try to stand, to escape, but the chains that bind me will not relinquish their grip.

I lay on the ground, hugging my knees tightly to my chest. I close my eyes. This is the end.

When I opened my eyes again, I looked around. There were stars, sparkling in the midnight sky. The icy chill was gone.

There was a warm breeze. 

Warmth, not scorching. Pleasant. My lips curl up, giving the slightest hint of a smile.

There is a whisper in the breeze. Soft, and gentle.

'Hello?' I whisper.

'Greetings, wanderer.' It responded, weaving in and out of the blades of grass upon which I lay.

'Who are you?' I asked aloud, using a voice that I had nearly forgotten I possessed.

A long silence ensued, but I could feel the presence in the breeze.
'I... I am the spirit of the wind.' The voice lilted around me in a delicate dance, and the light, beautiful fragrance of flowers followed where it went. 'Long have I watched your journeyings, lonely traveler. Long have I watched as you wandered from place to place. Long have you traveled, long have you been alone.'

'Can you help me?' I asked, hopeful.

'If I knew how to help a mortal,' the voice softly laughed, 'would not I have done so, many years ago?'

My hope fell.

'Do not despair,' the voice whispered. 'I will do what I can to improve your situation. One thing you may ask of me, one wish I will grant you. Whatever you wish, it will be yours. Ponder long and hard.'

But I already knew what I would wish for. 'Please, make the people see me. If they could only see me, things would be much better.' 

The musical laughter came again. 'But they can see you.'

'Then why, in my time of need, did not they help me?' I shouted angrily. 'Why, when they saw a weary traveler, did they walk past with blind eyes and deaf ears?' 

'That which you see in others, is merely a reflection of yourself. Did you truly see them, or did you also walk past with eyes so blinded by your own misery that you could not see them for what they were?'

'Then help me with this chain. If only I could be free of it, I could make a life for myself. I could be happy.'

'This is a chain of your own creation.' The voice said. 'What power it has, it has been given by you. You are the only one who can rid yourself of this chain.' 

The presence began to withdraw.

'How do I escape from it?' I cried out in despair. 'Please, tell me! Do not leave me here!'

'You have to let it go. Farewell, traveler.' 

And then it was gone.



I spent a long time pondering the words the voice had left me. 

A chain of my own creation? I examined it carefully. Each link was flawless. Alone they were not heavy, but when they were combined it was impossible to budge. Was it true, did I really have the power to be rid of it?

I had to let it go.

And as I stared at the chains which had bound me for so many years... I realized that it was easy to let it go.

I stood up. The shackles fell.

I smiled. I threw the chains from my body and leapt for joy. 

I laughed. It was as if the weight of seven worlds had been lifted from my shoulders. I felt like I could fly.

And fly I did.

Towards the sunrise and full of hope. With a warm fragrant breeze at my heels, I began to fly.

The Faceless Pt. 2

Sometimes I write poetry, and sometimes I write the same poem several times.
I'm in love with it, and I don't know which is better.
So, here it is. Part 2.

So many faceless people drifting by...
They do not see me, nor see them can I.
I turn my eyes from them, towards the sky.
In this myriad of faceless,
Who am I?