Have we been blinded by reality?
Asked the Wise Master
The violence of a reality that sends tremors down the nerves
To spark and catch alight.
Our eyes on fire.
Or, says the Wise Master
Have we been blinded by the dream of wanting,
Yearning to see the future-
A blinding by hope?
The pupil felt slippery and wet as he moved
Between the threads of time
His head sinking into itself
He then looked to the future and couldn’t decipher
Where his vision was taking him
Which was the delusion- hope or reality?
He closed his eyes and felt at peace
Delusion was a game of waiting
He preferred being blind
The Wise Master picked himself clean off his bones
Placing the wires and cogs of his inner workings
Into a cabinet to be kept safe
Locking the wooden box and putting the key on his tongue
He could now have a clear vision
His eyes washed clean from his unselfing
A baptism of light and air
He could now touch the Gods.
He could now be still and wait
He could now hope for darkness
Who did the Wise Master meet
When the Wise Master was both more and less of himself?
What did the Wise Master see
When his self was locked away?
The pupil opened his eyes to find the Wise Master naked
And cradled upon the hard brick floor
He dressed him gently and took him to the balcony for a cigarette
What was your vision?
The pupil asked
The Wise Master was silent
You can tell me
Said the Pupil
The Wise Master started crying and murmured
I lost it
The pupil held his Wise Master
The answer now needed to be found again
Which was delusion- hope or reality?
Chariklia Martalas is a Philosophy, Politics, English and History graduate from the University of the Witswatersrand in Johannesburg, South Africa. Her work has been featured in Rigwelter Press, Isacoustic, The Raw Art Review, Loch Raven Review, Bending Genres and the undergraduate literary journal The Foundationalist. Her work is forthcoming in Drunk Monkeys.
Cover Photo Credit: Kylie Supski
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