This is a piece I wrote two years ago and hope to submit as one of three entries for my creative writing portfolio. It is a monologue that should should be read along in very specific timing to the classical piece "The Planets: Saturn, Bringer of Old Age"
Tea With Time.
Hello.
I see you all have finally chosen to have a word with me, or to listen – no matter, I don’t mind either way as it will have been the first - time. (chuckles) I have never been granted such pleasure, nor did I ever dream I would have anything to do with you, but now ... in all honesty, I doubted you would have chosen to use up even an inch of your precious thread on me, though a few of you have even less than that to waste ... No matter, you are here now – you, the human race – man ... What’s that? It’s a tapestry, it’s the tapestry of all things – see, you’re the olive one right there – quite long. And you, here in crimson, and you – you haven’t got very long! (chuckles) I sit here and weave this tapestry of all things, endlessly ... well, seemingly endlessly, yes only seemingly ... And as I weave, I bring change, and I bring – age.
Man – you hate me for this. But what YOU don’t understand is that if I stop weaving then you will stop breathing (chuckles). But it is not for your sake that I continue on with such tediousness. You see, I am bound by Him to sit here and weave ... to measure and span all things. You see, I too am not without you, for if you were not then neither would I. I am your shadow, a shadow that is cast by the blinding light of your ignorance of my nature. And once He releases all from that light, you will see that even I am an illusion ... mind you, some of you are fortunate enough to know that even now! Some of you understand that the flowers you have seen grow and wilt, are illusions and the very hands that have picked these flowers, your hands, which you’ve come to know better than all else, are illusions...
Three-score and ten ... Man cannot see a minute pass three-score and ten – He has told me so. But it is not I who chooses the time of your death; see, only He can do that. And even though man has been given such a great span I ... pray? ‘Pray’ ... you can call it that – that’s what you all do isn’t it? Well then, I guess you can call it ‘hope’ (but it is not the hope that stems from providence, but merely wishful thinking – His will is unchanging) ... Even though man has been given such a great span with which to exist, I hope that no man shall be fulfilled of such a promise, and when man dies a sudden death, a very sudden death, in war, let us say – I am filled with the utmost joy - ecstatic!
Morbid you say, that I should find joy in untimely death, in quick, painful death, in youthful death? Well, you see, when you have been as long as I, and when you have fulfilled such things as I, you too, would come to understand that the death of old age is the ultimate worst way to die. You! Plum ... yes you - How much better is it to die in a great battle, young and glorious, then to die with last memories of others wiping your ass after you shit? ... None have seen what I have seen, and all judge me so harshly. Yet, not even I take on the burden of eternity...
Oh. How you have come to hate me so. You cannot rid yourself of me, yet you try, like a child leaping and prancing about trying to rid themselves of their shadow ... You can only escape me, as the child escapes his shadow by finding darkness. You can escape me – IF you escape yourself ... the illusion.
Hear the church bells, they chime – they – chime, mocking me. It is YOU who warns me that you know me, that I can no longer hide. You so desperately count the seconds within the seconds, minutes within the minutes hours within the hours, not knowing that each chime of the church bells is warning to you of your impending end – that your death is but seconds, minutes, hours closer – and I do hope that it is even closer still!
Some accept this; some accept our appointed partnership within this great illusion and simply ‘hope’ for the best. But others try to mask the change I bring. What man is willing to slick onto their skin... That you are willing to risk the utter destruction of your bodies to mask the inevitable deterioration of the same, frightens me! It is the mind that concerns me – NOT the body (do with that what you will), for it is the mind that conceives me, but the mind NEEDS a body, doesn’t it? If the body stops, then the mind stops, and if the mind stops, then I STOP! But of course, you do not understand, nor would you care...
Yes, I bring age and soon death ... But I bring youthfulness and life ... I bring goodness. I bring sweetness within the fruit. If I was not, I could not ripen what is good into better, and though I may ripen bad into worse, well, even bad fruit is a carrier of good seeds that grow into the greatest of trees and blossoms into the finest of flowers. I bring the seasons ... I bring winter, the season of death, and deep sleep ... I bring spring, the seasons of birth and long awaited awakenings. If I were not, I could not bring to you sights of newly budding trees shimmering in the sunlight as if sprinkled with emeralds. None know the day nor the hour but the day shall come, and I will be free of this guilt. After all, non-existence IS freedom.
© Avey Owyns.
