The Voice

‘I did not choose to be amongst you, I do not like your kind, you are arrogant and violent…You put great store in acquisitions rather than actions…But then, I am here for my own sins…Besides, despite my distaste, you fascinate, though most of you are lost. Wandering aimlessly like cattle on eternal grasslands. My words may seem harsh but I too had strayed from my path…become lost…had I not lost my way I would still be with my own kind.

I chose the wrong side in a war that took place long ago. Your race cannot even begin to comprehend the devastation and the repercussions of that war. For that…shall we say...minor indiscretion? I must pay my penance, a reluctant missionary far from home. I bring you not religion, nor desire, you have that aplenty…misplaced as it is, like your faith in the technological trinkets that enhance your illusion. No, I am here as a mere observer…and sometimes I teach…I say that with a wry smile on my face…for there are so many of you, so many lessons.

The nature of my lessons can take many forms, for example: my kind do not view space & time like you, you are slaves of your own concept of what you call time. It is but a tool of your mind. Hence you hasten your journey and become short lived.

I mention this merely for selfish reasons, for I do not age as you, I live for what you would call an eternity. So is the length of my penance…such is my fate.

My teaching methods are a little unorthodox and quiet stringent, and there is always the chance that you will die during your lesson, but why fear death? The soul is ageless; life is no mere accident of physics, there is order and purpose to everything…

As students you can be most difficult. You walk around with phantom eyes that do not see, and ears that perhaps hear but do not listen. There is much you have forgotten and have a propensity to forget.  A long time ago you were given a divine gift, yet you readily give it up for the basest of things. That is your free will, you should treasure this rare and precious gift, not all races are blessed so. Had I not been so frivolous with mine, perhaps I would not be here amongst you; It is an instrument, how you play that instrument is up to you...but it’s always best when played from the heart.

I must go now, I have lessons to prepare, so please, spare me questions about my origins and my kind they are of little importance, your heart already knows…I am but a shadow, a whisper in the void.’

© P Williams 2010