As the sun dawns on a crimson day the warrior stains the ground with the blood of his enemy, washing his hands of the night before in the river of now he wonders about his life and all of its trivial pursuits. Knowing that the land he fights for is his own, it justifies itself to the men who died for its grasp, looking to his "friends" he sees the look of a hungry dog and the smell of weakness from the stench of his own fatigue. He ponders the thought of true allies and the notion that they are merely there as long as the benefit is great, testing time he walks his line and trying to find his own mind he becomes lost in what is truly yours and mine. Lonely footsteps follow this walker as he treks away from this blood thirsty village of darkened minds, he now searches for the lost greatness of his people. Climbing to the top of the holy mountain he stumbles upon an old man with the laughing sickness, the man grasps at his chest begging him for salvation. The warrior pulls his flint blade from its sheath and puts it to the throat of the old man, a smile creeps across his withered face as he see the threshold of pure enlightenment. feeling the leather grip of his blade and the soft smell of mountain air he feels the muscle of his forearm tighten to cut to sickness from this man's body. The clouds above him part, drifting down from the heavens a hawks feather falls upon the warriors blade. Seeing the omen for all that is, he realizes what he had almost done and smiles to the old man who now (looking a thousand years brighter) crosses his arms and touches the warrior on his forehead with the tip of his so called index finger. From the mans body to the warriors mind a strain of light forms and a bead of energy ignites the cold reaches of his lost and icy skull. The young brute falls to his knees and knows the path on which he must walk, looking to the old man who was now hovering above the trail with a all knowing smile creeping across his face, they laugh proudly crumbling the once thought taboos of his human condition. The warrior treks down from the mountain and back to his people, changing the face of the world under each step of his leather wrapped feet. encountering the first hungry glance of his once loved brother he touches him on his hand and for the first time with ought fear the not so hungry one stands and smiles to the peace full warrior. he leads the man by the hand to the center of the tribe and there they sit by the fire closing their worldly receptors to change the thought of man. As they begin a strong wind starts whipping through the woods. with fear in his mind the leader of these darkened people swiftly moves to the men to stop there ungodly actions and save his people from the wind that meant to destroy everything he knew, but as he stepped close to the change he became exactly what me most feared and falling to the ground, from his body grew a tree. Dark and crimson bark emerged from this creation flowers and fruit grew from the stalk of this fibrous form. As the peace full warrior opened his eyes he saw a world very different from the one he had once known, bright and color full the earth stood new and fresh. The people laid their weapons at the foot of the once blood soaked warrior and looked to him to start on their path of new found righteousness. He said with one wise tone to the people of the world "Look not to me to find yourselves, look to the wind and the rain of what we have once committed, because only when we have learned why this change was necessary will we be able to maintain it" understanding this they lept to action and left their mortal confinements behind, and finding the bright ones sitting next to an old juniper tree they embraced their own enlightenment.
"The Stoned Apprentice"
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