The Face of War Only Dreams in Glory
.. oppression would have nothing to stand on.(1)The disclosure of the hero's miraculous gifts (2)His eductaion (3)His testing through a course of travels (4). "Without the idea of endless acquisition of property. and production solely for profit.." Dick Cheney "Literary progress is the increasing complexity of inside jokes.the confirmation of his powers." Thomas Pynchon This story is the journey of someone utterly defined by their surroundings.
and he became more determined. wary forests watching winding streams trickling from the tops of distant majestic mountains. He almost lost the boulder once. the angular rocks changed to gravel. His heart leapt in his chest and he pushed his boulder faster and harder then he had all that day. and it's rhythm of soft thuds as it rolled easily up the hill. he began to imagine the top of the hill.. the dewy feathers of grass under his feet. that he passed. He loved the dirt pushing into the crevices between his toes. He loved the tiredness in his shoulders and legs. the watchful birds above.
. The earth falling away at his feet. looked around one side of the boulder. He could roll his boulder all the way to those mountains stopping to drink from the streams on the way. cloud shadows dancing on waving fields. and saw the sun moving across the sky. scraping his feet and tripping him every know and then. As he placed his last foot before the other. As he continued his ascent. kin to his burden. and the angular rocks.. The hill grew steeper. It began to feel heavier as the sky turned violet above. and it nearly tumbled back down the hill over top of him. seeing it clearer in his mind with every circuit of the boulder's roll. In desperation he stopped. nearly collapsing in the gravelly ground. He loved the dripping sweat on his brow that stung his eyes. He loved the weight of the warm boulder against his calloused palms. The hill would not be his today. But.Once upon a time there was a man who found himself perfectly happy pushing a boulder up a hill. a reflection of his anticipation of the success and gratitude he would feel once he reached the top of the hill. He had reached the top. As the sky grew pale gold with evening he began to lose hope. illuminating the dome shaped top of the hill. he managed to get his footing at last against a gnarled root arcing up from the dirt. the boulder rolled forward just slightly and stopped.
and horses. shaping it into a halo. A tremor of memory flashed through him.. the hill. draping their bodies at their feet so as to stare down at the endless battle below. They waited to descend on the dead and scattered troops to devour their faces and carry them back to their perch above the virtuous struggle. wallowing in the smoke of cannon fire. where they set gold coins in their empty eye-sockets. He was struck at the realization of the beauty in the austerity of the listless gaze that seemed to hold the urn aloft more than the hand it rested on. the tiredness in his legs and his palpitating heart faded like the sweat on his brow. spilling light onto men matching tactics. What he saw at the bottom of the hill bathed in amber sunset.. he knew now that he must only descend this hill and conquer this terror. swords. He steadied himself against the onset of vertigo. his tiredness. a palm of small pale fingers.As he stepped around his newly shed burden that rested gray and steady at the hilltop. his new view becoming his only vision and memory. The battle was presided over by angels of fortune. With each step he took towards the beginning of the hill's downward slope. What had he accomplished in comparison to the terror at his feet? A sky-scraper knight reached down and plucked this troubling memory from his forehead.
. the boulder. was not a forest or stream or mountains but a glorious procession. Bereft of his burden. a battle of glory and virtue deep in a dusty valley. He felt a bitterness creep into his mind at this memory as he stared down now. celestial knights baring heaven bookwise. Just beyond the fog of war. raised a gilded urn before a ghostly sightless face. The earth unfurled before him with the sky sliding over top it. evaporating in the fresh breeze. grandiose against the chaos. wearing staring eyes and crooked beaks and distended guts. A glint in those austere eyes bid him onward. he felt what seemed to be the earth turning to meet his feet.
stared silently. Once he turned to follow an eddy wandering into the gravel on either side of his path. but felt another tug of doubt nudging him back to the road.His descent began easily. leaving it an even grayish blue. he remembered the distant spirit of his earth borne burden that lay somewhere far behind him. leading into the battlements that housed the opposing armies viewed from his original vista. transformed from the vulture of its previous vantage into an ominous creature clad in majesty. cut or engraved with dogmatic effort. he stood still in the road. but not seemingly intent on disrupting his passage. knife-filled fists reaching from leering. he had lost sight of the battlements and the fresh darkness was not permitting him view of his goal. following the broad. He felt what he thought at first was a light breeze. the sky-splitters sealed themselves behind the horizon. a sharp light howled towards him. Before they set upon him. he could only stare. the road seemed to wind and wither to a final squiggle. Looking ahead down it in the fading light. Without even the feeling of the earth beneath him.
. Between the stones he glimpsed a shimmering river flowing beneath the road. a quietness settled over his path. and he saw that he was surrounded by raised. Suddenly. His goal had dissolved into the night. nervous eyes. invoking a now-distant and somehow harsh memory of an old effort. It snaked out into little streams into the desert around it. The angel. Shortly after shedding the doubt from the angel's stare. to form a road. amber drained from the slow slope ahead. as if a shutter or a floodgate opened. even panorama of gravel. but it was the lukewarm breath of the beat of a winged horse carrying an Angel of Fortune to light on the north edge of the road in the granite colored sand that stretched on either side. only waved an unhanded arm. letting himself be dissolved into the pitch dark. So. In his distraction.
a vision that seemed a dream from ages ago. the tired staring eyes of the dispossessed. like a reflection in a pond.. trailing him along smoothly. to find his winding narrow road. He cried out and pleaded with the still unanswering whiteness. the celestial knights. the smooth pale skin.He awoke to find himself slowly falling into the pit of the listless gaze that had paraded the spoils of war before him. trailed a small naked body seated limply in a nebula-sea of gilded stucco.. awkwardly. but only the sucking and inevitable whisper of the abyss answered. All waiting to be devoured by the abyss. And he wanted only to get away.
. The eyes wore a crown now. the banners. an earth-born body's taught posed arcs drawing effortless sensuality. to get back to his journey into conquer. All around were other memories. but definitely. he fell into a whirlwind of juxtaposition. a winged beast that dripped whitewash feathers to mimic life.. the heat and sweat of victory. Under the beast. strange fruit. So..
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they rolled past his own empty staring face. and the dispossessed began to march heaven-wise. thrusting a spear into his spine. His body now stood in the company of beasts. Greed fled from their procession. and his tears were those of joy and sadness for the beauty of the necessity of their new relationship. they were brothers for now. They had forgotten themselves. they had forgotten each other. barren and childless. they became earth. and they watched the horizon fall to reveal a pantheon of distant and dispossessed memories.
. and a writhing beneath him.He felt a sharp pain in his side. Letting his body come fully to the ground. Soon. looked up and saw the copper ghost of his burden that he had once pushed before him. That austere figure that had beckoned him toward himself. permutations of the patient angels of fortune from before with leering eyes of greed staring through him and death coiling around him. He rolled to his side. it's dry skies could no longer weep for what they would become. pressing the life beneath him to rest. The earth turned away in silence. But. now stood at his side with the spoils of wrath at her feet. Greed conjured swirling mimicries of life in the air behind them.