The Lake

I.

I came upon the mountain lake

I left the school behind
I am truant, deviant
An outcast soul

I walked along the shoreline

Crawling through the Water
Not the shore of land,
But the shore beneath the waves

I came upon the Question Child

He asked me many things
“Why?”
“How?”
“Who?”
“Are you?”
I didn’t know
He asked
He asked
He asked again
I didn’t know, I couldn’t know
In great frustration he stole from me:
My Words

With that I struck him down

Placed his soul in a cave
I stabbed him
A rubber spear
“You wanted to know how a real man dies?
This is how a real man dies!”
He shuddered
Fear
He started to cry out
So I showed him the Blue Book
Silencing him forever
II.

In solitude I walk
Crawling, swimming
No one can follow
When I travel in the Water
The Others know not of such things

Between the boulders I found Scorpion

He was Blue indeed
I feared him, I cowered
I knew he was the Fiend
But he bore no enmity
Not for me
He didn’t ask me questions
No “Why?”
No “How?”
No “Who?”
He knew who I really was

And despite the lies he told me

I saw the Truth inside him
We parted friends
Scorpion Blue and I
For in Truth he was Scorpio
The Bluest of them all
III.

I walked the lake content

Until I remembered:
Truth
This lake was built of tears
The land, stolen
The beaches, defaced
Maimed
Raped
Desecrated

The lake did not belong to me

Its caretakers lay dead
My father killed them all
I wept White tears
I wept Blue tears
The world can never be restored
Never

Now I walk with company:

Agony and Misery
I reached the halfway stone
And looked back across the lake
I saw the trail back to Life, to Truth
Learning beckoned to me:
“You’re not finished”
“You’re not finished”
And with weary heart
I complied: “I am Blue
I will return.”

I gazed once upon the other half

The half that must escape me
Cascades
Waterfalls
Sparkling Perfection
Beauty
Paradise is unobtainable
IV.

I walked back across the Water

The bridge of stone concealed in ripples
I halted on that narrow path
To raise my arms to the Sky
I deepened the Water with my tears

I knew the Others would ask me questions:

“Why?”
“How?”
“Who?”
“Are you Him?”
“The True?”
But my heart held only Apathy
The indifference of Shame
I cannot answer their questions
For the Truth is never believed
When sought by an empty heart

Reddan Black
1992 (?)