Scorpion

It was not as much a feeling of emptiness, but a sense if something missing. An unspoken question that must be answered.

 Standing small under a big sky. Sent by aliens on a mission that was so secret that even he was not sure of his role. Foreign is his own home.

 He was fed by the warm bosom of encouragement to acquire knowledge no matter how useless. Learning was the journey with no specific goal. Time trudged through the dust and mud. The wind blew with the familiar smell of manure.

 The land was the lesson. He took to the theory, but not the practical. Unwilling to throw himself to the mercy of God and weather. Seeking greater control and certainty.

 Was the journey mapped by fate, or managed through thoughtful synchronicity, or an example of this world's randomness?

 With breathless excitement, he boarded the ship to the cradle of humanity. It opened a magnifying glass into his soul that only he could peer into. Forever altering his brain function.

 The seat of learning materialised as a dream of dark corridors and empty auditoriums. Words floated off pages with little sense or meaning. Only decades later would the puzzle parts form a picture.

 Impatience and intolerance clouded his view and closed his mind. Learning was lost to the dust and fumes of population density. He became intoxicated with the belief that he was in control.

 Songlines from times of social upheaval carried him through his world, making the unfamiliar, familiar. He grew into his skin.

 Three crystal stalagmites arose from the earth, and he basked in their strength and beauty. Years rolled by to the hypnotic hum of the treadmill.

 Abused by pirates and shipwrecked he washed ashore exhausted. A desert of despair stretched to the vast horizon. The black sails of the dreaded ghost ship sank beneath the waves. Enduring Winters of torment till Spring flowers bloomed with arousing scent. He still rides the ebb and flow of the tides.

 Time dims the sight while focusing the vision. In bright sunshine, the scorpion returns to the water.

Craig (31/10/2022)

c Copyright Craig Buller 2022. All rights reserved