the greatest organ pulsing, covering, taut, alive with every scrape
and each cut and bruise and sore place a badge of honor.
for living, using, living growing!! the organism rejoicing at its liveliness
the strength coursing. i feel! i feel! vision acute to brilliance.
toes gripping, muscles learning to become awake to one another.
this is the true adolescence. the one that puberty points to.
only now with two score voyages in my belt can i now see the wisdom of all creation.
we cannot come alive until teh graces gird us up.
now tall and straight, my buckler fastened by a virgin sweet and my breastplate fastened by my valet loyal.
my helmet i carry under my arm. robes of finest gold and reddest red drape across my habiliments martial. gods! had i known my destiny i would have feared to leave the womb.
and now i see all. i see afar the wisdom of creation. it is only through the many births of youth and manhood and death and yet death again, and the crushing of all hopes and desires. and their solid rebuilding on rock. rock unshakable! that manhood finally blooms its precious blossom, pistals magnificent, each lobe of the flower heavy and rich. the aroma so fragrant and pungent that lesser beings are unaware, and the aware but malformed cannot abide. this is the odor of the Christ-man! i cannot do all. omnipotence is not my aim anymore.
but my strength is greater than the omnipotence that i once dimly conceived. and to have hands and arms and legs as i do--the stronger to lift children and slash enemies, it is exquisite pleasure. to sit beneath the banyan tree is natural to orgasm and there for sweet hours i stay. and refreshed, i begrudge not the interruption of the bodymind. for here i chose to make my stand.
i chose this life. i chose it. dammit! i chose this! all tears of pity for myself tall away like hideous, filthy rags, they fall and their putrescence dissolves into smaller than atoms before they touch the ground my being now makes holy.
and so, upon a horse so great i sit magnificent. i ride, i fly, i go to the great city. its gates yearn for me. my visage already there in bas relief. i go to my new home. the home prepared for me by my true father. the home my earthly father in his way did his best to prepare me for. i go home. i go home. i go home. my children fast and my wives like grape-clusters overflowing await me there. for they two 'foreknow me. and all is joy. joy! this is the bliss that they meant, those prophets i saw but dimly. this is the vision written of in inks of gold on pages of silver. but the bliss itself is greater than ambrosia. better than coupling, more heady than the densest mead. o gods! this life, this life, this life!
and now but a little while and shall i sit enthroned and there my table before me shall i arrange my armies. and we, knowing ourselves, and knowing well our enemies, shall wage jihad against death. and life shall gain for itself riches and new lands. i am DUKE. if emperor i must become, so be it. but i hurry not. for my lands suffice for now. that is, once this battle ends and i take possession of its sweetness.
i see, i see the land that is mine by conquest to come. a land of ancient beauty and wisdom, of lands cultivated and tamed for millenia. A land that i did not inherit, but that i was groomed to take. for all my thought it bent on it. but i, wiser than the fools of corrupted vision, see all, and forget not the whole world. my armies point in all directions. i advance, for this land may not even have a king. fighting is necessary only when resistance comes. i do not invite it. for if perchance my heart is pure, all walls shall open at my touch. i am ready for all things. ready. ready.
