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The Torn: Death Meditation

The Torn:
Death Meditation

Striding through a dip full of juicy chickweed he looked over the wild grasses down into the green valley and saw in the distance a herd of sheep and with them a lonely shepherd. With his stick upright he drove the animals ahead of him. What kind of life was that? Not entirely dissimilar to his own traveling existence, he thought to himself, loosening his mask. Despite the prevailing warmth, he had decided to hike up the hill away from the path. He loved rocks and the wild cypress trees had also attracted him magically. 

The evergreen teeth of the underworld penetrated up here through the flesh of the peaceful landscape to loom like dark pillars. He sat down, relieved, between ancient boulders and a few young birches.


His gaze wandered, the stream of thoughts rose like a clawed black hand and gently laid over his eyes. He went blind and was blind even to blindness. The landscape before him disappeared in a veil and he sank.

All the things he had to do. The notes in his little note book kept piling up. When would he find the books on his list? So many places that he wanted to see, of which he only knew mysterious stories. He had a goal for now, but his studies fell by the wayside for too long. Those eternal journeys, damn it. His parents had been waiting for him for a long time too. Who knows whether the lovely ladies he coveted weren’t long gone. The beauty with the full lips and the dark long hair couldn’t get out of his head. Oh … doubts plagued him. He should have last time .. And what if …

His body had long been like a dead tree stump, rooted and motionless.

 

The shadow of the young trees wobbled over his dark robes.

 

He felt nothing of the warmth of the sun’s rays on his back.

 

He didn’t hear any of the brightly colored birds singing.

 

He didn’t feel the slight breeze.

 

All that was was gone.

All the things he had to do. The notes in his little note book kept piling up. When would he find the books on his list? So many places that he wanted to see, of which he only knew mysterious stories. He had a mission for now, but his studies fell by the wayside for too long. Those eternal journeys, damn it. His parents had been waiting for him for a long time too. Who knows whether the lovely ladies he coveted weren’t long gone. The beauty with the full lips and the dark long hair couldn’t get out of his head. Oh … doubts plagued him. He should have last time .. And what if …

His body had long been like a dead tree stump, rooted and motionless.

 

The shadow of the young trees wobbled over his dark robes.

 

He felt nothing of the warmth of the sun’s rays on his back.

 

He didn’t hear any of the brightly colored birds singing.

 

He didn’t feel the slight breeze.

 

All that was was gone.

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He saw a pulsating circle light up in front of him. An endless cycle and there would always be something to do. Always more about to follow. The flow of things and thoughts, deeds and doubts, was endless. In return, however, time itself was limited, he thought. The point of contact of the two ends of the infinite circle was this moment. That rushing from task to task was pointless and dead.

Did he really want to be a slave to things? Run like a whipped serf? For this he had not escaped the peasant class years ago…

He hadn’t been alive until now, he could feel that now. But dead like a carcass lying by the wayside. Enclosed by knotted dead bodies. Bound by frozen, cramped fingers. Hypnotized by the desperate empty eye sockets of the skulls of time.

dark art masterpiece death meditation from aynbath

The peeling away of the illusory layers, the black petals of delusion, exposed a glowing core of emptiness.

Serenity flowed through the thorn as he took a deep breath and lifted his gaze into the softly rustling treetops of the young, flexible trees.

 

Choral singing. Clarity.

 

A golden cup.


Illumination.

 

“I am free.”

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