www.domist.net/eng tales - fantastic

WARRIOR OF LIGHT

( Marco Milani ITA - GUERRIERO DI LUCE - Transl. by Davide Riccio )

 

 

 

Well. I am ready.

No, I am not, but I need to feel myself ready. My future, from now on, is that of exhisting as a Warrior of Light. I have the responsibility to behave this way. Now…

 

It is space.

Deep space, infinite creation, firmament filled with stars. Myriad of lights out of focus for incommensurable distances.

Immobility.

Vortex.

A spiral curving so peculiar and concentric appears to me like a tunnel to enter and follow below, raven-black with no stars.

An invitation, a convocation that I cannot refuse.

I fly.

I am floating… incorporeal sidereal entity, recondite essence of a thinking creature, in my non-form across the vortex, in homogeneous growing whirlpools following one another. It means to be received.

A star comes to me. It seems to be conscious like me, passing me through, at last just a source of nothing but light, unexpected, before I can make out how it could have happened. I was not ready.

I have perceived nothing more than my distinguishing and accepting passively. Inexperience. I am a Warrior of Light, I can’t forget it, never. It’s  It’s of capital importance.

Dazzling white exploding. Increasing absolute white. Imposing white everywhere.

Bluish stretches of indecipherable shapes of phantasms as well as vital beings… Other worlds. Different dimensions. The same Universe… something more.

In my future I am there, high on my superior knowledge, many levels up above my soul of sentient earthly existence.

I sweep away lightness now toned down as a shield of pregnant clouds is cracked, then I turn myself, still in wait with memories of solid smoke while I curiously gaze at the oddities of the thin curls created as after-effects of the meeting with that and I pause to look at… until they end becoming compact again in a snowy perfect ring, free from my perception of immanent physics by now.

Sympton of distance.

It has disappeared…  and it is Universe once again. Far… So far to look like as it was flat.

I float… wheeling  - with too much slowness - around myself or what there is of me, and now, above the relative appearance to me of false bidimensionality; lines moved by an inexistent cosmic wind attract me.

I go. No! I flow together. It’s more probable but… It has already gone.

As a mental representation, I see the image of an immense mouth of wolf, only jaws wide open passing by my side leaving straight trails of rays like long scratches from ferocious beast in the gloomy dark coloured whole-space.

Now lines remind me shooting tongues of paper, they are still there, mobile and looking fragile, near and nevertheless unreachable. They ain’t in a hurry.

They’re waiting for me, they seem to talk to me so, and I want to touch them… But I am not yet equal to the situation and go on. While I go away, similar to a glider without control, they seem giving me a wave. Exchange greetings, maybe I smile too. Yes, I have smiled.

I turn round and twist for going on my way I don’t know where like a pilgrim with no destination and I would stop for a thought, for conceiving at least one hypothesis, but I can’t. I can’t do it and it’s unjust.

A Warrior of Light is not coherence and conception: it’s disconnectedness and instinct, not a subject but only a medium becoming slave to a superior Essence. I conform myself to it, at  least I try.

The eye big like the sky looks like a boat bamboo trimmed. While I admire the interior crossed mosaics, I also see the complete black of its pupil.

Black of vacuum, black of nothing. Black to me.

I am going there.  

I am there.

An empty passage of no light, exactly of my no physical measure, and I go on through the square cavity descedning round and round, surrounded by contiguity alike an enclosure formed by four brown ladders, with rungs of bamboo or stylized white thigh-bones sawed and…

I keep on descending the ivory ladder…

And there, distant…

Remains only one rung departing, going away…

… Away! Little more and more, brighter, then with a microscopical “puff”, like blowing bubbles, implodes disappearing. It’s Universe over again.

Made of stars, Universe of wonderful eyes.

As I lose myself watching the wholeness undetermined; to my left, waves of nothingness from the distant bottom ride towards me swinging like an endless snake of non-existent perception.

The layout of nothingness flows behind me and goes on its way, but I notice something coming from the opposite direction… No. Someone!

Someone passing from my low temporariness to my high correspondence.

Who?

It’s happened in a while, a lightning, a flashing similar to certainty and complete ignorance at once.

From the opposite below to something else… no! Another someone. The same someone I know. Certainty… Ignorance…

Others follow one another, from everywhere, they come, anywhere they go. And still it’s the same someone.

One of them is here, appeared from my below transitory and stops himself behind me. Inside his space-overalls (that there is not), there is me. I am smiling to myself.

A smile meaning he knows/I know tnat I’m confused and ere I can manage to reply to my/his smile he has/I am gone away at last I bow to the facts I have learnt that I am,  relatively, any Someone; anyone the same, equipollent “I”, the Warrior of Light.

I am before, before and before in my intra-Universe.

I am there, as I penetrate dismayed in the vortex.

I am there, out of curiosity, straight there to the white.

I am there, out there the shield of clouds, lost among thousands of new perceptions.

I am there, plunging more trusting into impending experiences in the gigantic eye.

I am there… I am there… I am there… I am there… There and there… I don’t know what belongs to me, but there is no fear. There.

That down there is Someone/Me that I have not yet been, my future, my voyages/events to come as Warrior of Light. And this means, for me, that there is a future. And I am intensely happy.

My time is here.

That is an immense hand coming from the bottom into sight lighted by the stars nearby,  as outlines of luminescent pencil.

I discern it while it marks the Universe, huge digital prints forming themselves standing out  as if they were on a vast lamina of transparent film. They revolve now, fireworks in a summer night. They turn into galaxies, cosmic spirals in retrograde motion.

I see by my side/after/below another hand, bigger than the other. It too marks the Universe and threads a way with its five fingers, extending themselves until they hook  the Universe and tear it up as if it was a thin inanimate weak sheet of paper. The Universe torn to pieces flakes away leaving behind itself… the same, the equal still undamaged Universe.

Something else is coming under, something of solemnly grand. Someone…

He’s a face, the same outlines of luminescent pencil of the hands. My face.

To it a body is added and it’s as it ascended from an inexistent step below.

Now it’s everything, a complete me/someone bowing to me like the bow of the Rei to the ki, from the Great to the little, of the Master to the apprentice.

I bow too, admiring and hopeful ki, little apprentice, and I know that my trip is over. My first trip as Warrior of Light. The path has begun.

I can open my eyes...