Timong Lightbringer: Notes of the Under-Enlightened [prose]

You will not understand at first. Since these times it would be your insoluble question – how was it possible not to feel, not to realize all this earlier … how was it possible to live almost blindly.

You just will not realize it. You will not realize, for what unknown purpose have you lived differently before, why that gamma of feelings pouring through your heart now, – why was it inaccessible to you earlier and wonderfully became accessible now … just stretch your hand.

This will become an eternal riddle of your life, which you will not want to solve – for it will not be necessary henceforth. For in these very moments your old world will be no more.

You will be unable to tell, where has this feeling of greatest respect to the world, in which you have the luck to live, and all things living, come from. You will not know where have all your constant anxieties suddenly vanished and where has your grief gone.

Where has your desire to struggle for your personal sort of justice dissapeared and from where the feeling of absolute internal tranquility and acceptance of everything what occurs has come from?

Where has the feeling of own greatness has vanished and why it has been suddenly washed off by the arisen ocean of love to another ?

Why don’t you want to continue proving something to someone, argue with somebody, to put clever and silly arguments pro's and con's, and instead you are ready to simply look at these disputes between others and to smile to their childishness?

How, why, what for your interests, that had been so important previously, were somehow forgotten and faded, as though they never existed … for what reason did a single feeling replaced them – to always see this world as beautiful, as you see it now ?

Why did other adult and serious people suddenly began to seem to you as small children, battling in own created sandboxes with each other - and sometimes even so funny and diligently throwing handfuls of sand at each other … and sometimes even wiping the face, full of tears, with their small lovely palms ?

Where has all your former anger gone and why do you now greet and shake hands of your former immemorial enemies – and your soul exults, seeing, how their faces are changed, when you affably smile to them and stretch your hand …?

Why do you now approach the bed where your beloved one still sleeps, what for do you sit down on the edge near him, why do you bow to him and kiss, and then lean your head to his own … where has this tenderness, overflowing you, come from ?

What for, what for do you need all this ? Where has your old world gone ?

An instant fear will pierce you. You will be frightened by what has occurred to you. You will not know how to live on with this new feeling of yours. You will passionately want to return back, to life so habitual for you - so reasonable and logical. The mind will keep saying that you have not had time to do so many things - have not had time to build the house, to make your career, to do this, to do that, - and if you will accept your new world, you cannot do it anymore … simply will not see the point. And you will want to listen to him to strongly, for he has aided you in this life for so many times already – and you will almost make it …

But then you would suddenly remember as the sun shined on you – surprisingly beautiful for all these years, how wind pulled out your hair, how you felt an autumn moisture on your lips, how you saw a flying deciduous round dance, and how love to the world overflowed you … and you will throw away these impudent attempts of mind to spoil this beauty – for you will not want to lose it anymore.

There will be many years after – but they all will be different.

Your sleepy life will come to an end – and will not be repeated anymore. You will at last manage to see this world such what it always was for those who saw – and what is became for you from now on.

Both rising and falling, both success and failure, both joy and grief will happen as usual – but all of them will be different. They all will become a reflection of the wonderful new world, to which you have once – in that memorable day – come, and in which you are living now.

Just … just because something, that has been sleeping in you for so long, will once come to light.

Just because one day you will awake …

I am not passive – I simply chose my goals carefully.

I am not zealot – I believe in the victory of human reason.

I am not aggressive – it’s hardly possible to speak differently with unreasonable ones.

I am not romanticist – I simply love life.

I am not a meek creature – it’s just useless to shout in a room alone.

I am not lonely – I am simply not part of the crowd.

I am not liar – I simply do not tell all the truth.

I am not reserved – I am simply not egocentric.

I am not rigid – there are simply times when one needs to be strong.

I am not defenseless – there are simply times when it’s required to pretend to be weak.

I am not silly – sometimes it’s simply necessary to deny common reason.

I am not uneasy – life simply demands movement.

I am not gloomy – I happen to be similarly “normal” sometimes.

I am not shy – my spirit simply soars too high sometimes.

I am not egoist – it’s simply necessary to think about myself sometimes

I am not pessimist – sometimes I simply forget to be happy.

I am not slave – it’s simply necessary sometimes to work for others.

I am not enemy – someone simply desire war sometimes.

I am not friend – someone simply desire to find allies in war sometimes.

I am not silent – I simply carefully select words.

I am not cynic – sometimes I simply call things by their proper names.

I am not insensible – sometimes it’s simply necessary to be closed from idly curios.

I am not mad – I simply do not always meet other’s expectations.

I am not indifferent – not all tears are simply true.

I am not impudent – it’s simply necessary to be the proprietor from time to time.

I am not helpless – it’s simply pleasantly to go down the stream sometimes.

I am not bored – someone simply does not understand from the first time sometimes.

I am not haughty – simply not everyone is capable to understand my language.

I am not warrior – it’s simply necessary to battle sometimes.

I am not hero – the times simply demand so.

Small nomadic tribe. Hunting and living, living and hunting on each new terrestrial haven. But they were short – for vastness of steppes awaited them, they were short – for battles were inevitable.

Battles of equestrian orders. A lethal enemy’s weapon - long bent sticks, firing killing needles. His companions died every day … he learnt to get used to it, he had to. In peaceful times the tribe expanded and spread again – ready for new battles, new life and new victories.

This was his life. In this world and in this time.

* * *

Turning to the opponent. Double swing of a sword in the right hand. A strike - and flatwise blow on the armor sideways. Moving sword back. The sword describes an arch over a head of the opponent and again strikes in another side. Now the blade starts moving to the ground … both hands take it – and another blow on the plates, closing a shoulder on the right hand.

On the left. Right. Left. Right.

An arch again. Again the sword is turned in hands and flies into attack … another blow. Continuing to shower rival with strikes, he moved sideways. Some more steps and he has appeared behind the back. A blade, brought by two hands over a head … this should be the last blow, opponent will be defeated.