The Man and the Figure Ch 2

We sat in silence for quite some time. The beating of the sand had stilled to a gentle shifting, like waves in a calm sea. The figure that was form said nothing. I said nothing. There was no need for words, for the entire world seemed thought manifest. I contemplated the best question I could consider.

Where are we?

We are right here.

Well, yes but where is here?

That is a foolish question. Can you not see?

I see nothing but a desert.

It is not a desert.

But...there is so much sand. And it is so hot, though I do not see the sun.

There is no desert. There is only here and now.

The sun. That was something I had not remembered. I knew nothing but the self light, yet into my mind the idea of a star sprung in a flash of a moment. I recollected the concept of place, and following it’s creation a flood of new concepts came rushing into the desert. I must be somewhere other than earth, for there was no sun, and no people. People? Others that could see like me. Was the figure a person?

A person does not exist. I am form.

How can a person not exist? I am a person.

You are not I. I does not exist.

How else would I know I am then?

You do not exist, you are not, so that all there is can be.

That doesn’t make sense.

What need is there for sense? else would I know things?

There is no need for knowing.

Then how would I know to speak to you?

To speak does not exist.

What a foolish creature. How could I not exist? I felt every breath of every moment, I felt every wave of heat, every grain of sand, and every spring of self light. How could I not exist?

You perceive what you are. You do not exist.

I grow tired of this useless discourse.

There is no use, there is only what is and what is not.

I scoffed at the fool’s form, and stood sternly. The figure stood and mirrored my image. The unbelievably still air began to shift gently; the stirrings of anger.

I do exist. You are nothing but a fool for saying otherwise.

I am nothing. And so are you. This makes us everything.

I turned around quickly and began to walk away. The figure angered me in its arrogance. I heard the shifting of sand steps behind me.

Stop following me!

A gentle breeze turned to a gusting wind, lifting the self sand from the ground into the air. My body left no mark on the flying grains. How strange… my body should be manifest…

This strange thought left my mind, as the figure stood stock still behind me, unseeing, unknowing. The gentle self light began to darken slightly. Thoughts so clear and bright entered my mind, pushing away all notion of the present; my family. Where was my family? The wind rose as a new emotion entered the desert: panic. The faces of my mother and father grew like flowered vines in my mind, their voices issuing words of comfort and of pain filled my ears like the greatest of musics. Music. All at once the array of sounds I loved split the air in a heart shattering volume, violins and drums, guitars and piano keys sung in strange harmony, filling my universe with unending song. The wind blew into a gale now, the sand circling my mind in what was the eye of the storm. Where am I? Who am I? What am I looking for? These questions like stone sank to the bottom of my being and laid the foundation of my new thoughts, time, events, places; being filled my head in excruciating harmony.

Behold illusion in it’s beauty.

The figure looked into the storm of my being, and standing in the eye of the hurricane took a step closer to me. Alien and strange was its movement, neither malicious nor loving, it only knew what was. In the eye of the storm I sat once again. I had so many questions.

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