Catharsis

I mourned the death of me, A self, hitherto, unseen. Steadfast it was, This vessel, Unwavering, Unbending to the elements.

It swore an oath: Ascend this mortal plane, Stand amongst Gods.

This self pursued a path, Minutely carved Carefully embroidered, Beyond which could be found, The treasure, The one, Nirvana.

Danger coiled at every passage, Pitfalls riddled every bend, Yet, determined, the mortal shell trod on.

Until, An odd encounter, A being unburdened, Oathless, Leisurely flew, Drifting through the air, As though all belonged to it

Flaunting beauty, Radiating wit, It carefully examined this tarnished vessel of mine,

it smiled.

the air changed.

A spark, A warm caress, Brushed against the hardened shell.

Staggered, The shell marched, Seeking audience with the monarch, Forgetting, for a fleeting moment, Its divine purpose.

---

The monarch spake: "Brave tarnished, Unto thee I bestow no burden, But a purpose truer than thy own.

Come. Let us form a pact.

In exchange, Thine life shall know breadth, Thine life shall prosper."

The self muttered, "I..." It stopped. Then pondered, But no matter how much it thought, It knew, Rejection had never been an option.

Extending its hand, Finger tips erect, The monarch beckoned the shell to come forth. And I, as if ordained, Obliged.

"Fret not, mine beautiful tarnished, Thy quest remains. For I am not to ask favors of thee.

Go now if thou must, Thine holy grail awaits, And let this blessing set you free"

My eyes widened, Before they narrowed once more, Perhaps my luck, at last Staved off my solitude.

Then onward I marched, And marched, Then marched some more.

Has Nirvana always felt this far away?

The winters were colder, The winds more savage, The thirst unquenchable, The hunger insatiable, The sun scorching like burning flames, And my limbs, In exhaustion, Dragged sluggishly as one in chains.

Perhaps I need some rest..

Rest?

I, A hardened vessel, I? Who shall stand amongst Gods, require rest?

"Venerable monarch, I call to thee, Thy promise was breadth, Yet my toil feels bland. Thy promise was prosperity, Yet I have known none but hardship and anguish."

"O'great Monarch have I been cursed? Hast thine words been naught but a ruse? My oath feels light. I desire rest, I seek green meadows, and relish the cold breeze, I look forward to starry skies, and my belly aches to feed, And .. And .."

The monarch smiled, so did I.