Say you'll come,
Say you'll dare,
Seek the blessing,
Accept the curse,
Of a heaven-sent lover.
For this dream,
That is so common,
Is so rare,
Because it takes balls,
To see the greater mission,
That such pairs are made for,
That the chalice and the grail,
Are the same cup,
And still, drink,
With full heart,
With complete soul.
2016~ LONDON, NIGHT
Somehow, I’ve come in 2000, sixty-nine years ahead of my time, it was the time of the slave era, it was like a transformation from roaring twenties to horrifying twenty-first century, and it is kind of scary.
It has been fifteen years since I have reappeared in a western country mall and the people walk around dressed in clothing made from slave labour with plastics even being part of the fabric. They show no awareness that they are literally clothed in what is many children's tears and indeed death shrouds for the Earth. They wear these garments with no thought to their origins, the real human being who made them or where the materials came from and how they were extracted from the earth. Everywhere there are gadgets, the ones they used to make from rare earth minerals. I want to eat but I'm not sure the food will go down.
How can I touch the plastic wrappers, smell meat from caged mammals?
The best I can do is go to a baker and a greengrocer. So I'm heading out, casting my eyes low like the hundreds of people around me. No one I know has been born yet and I didn't believe them when they said I was going back, but they showed me a history book and there I am, so I know what to do because I did it already.
Once outside the air loses the chemical perfume smells and instead I detect the gasoline the cars burn, back home that's just something they show a traveller to orient them to their new time and I had hoped that part was just a joke. The people move about as if free, but I can see their chains. They are on the billboards of the mall, smiling at them with perfect teeth. They will want to be those billboard people so much they will hand their children over to daycare as babies. They'll willingly walk into cubical farms for ten hours a day or more while they dream of one week in the sun and rack up credit card expenses. This is the era when no one questioned the money system. It was when the most basic level of workers could not afford the most basic level of housing and food. It was when children have put under so much pressure in schools and by the media that their mortality rates soared. I want to scream at these drones, yell, but they are still asleep.
But, now the time has come for me to go back, five years, only five years from now, and the portals will be opened again, and I have a feeling, it was time to go home.
A question always arose in my mind, did I really want that?
Will I be able to leave her? The one with whom I share a profound connection.
It is just a matter of time, when all the threads will be untangled, the questions will be answered.