Confession of a Magician

fictional writing exercise. if you are a mathematical mind, you'd appreciate Thoughts, Word, and Truth too.

Magician's Confession:

Language. This deck of cards I manipulate with my hands. Since young I have known it has power. I speak to others and I see faces change. I speak to a mirror and walk out in a new skin.

Language. The only material given to us to build the Tower of Babel. I have lived and I have seen its power. The things we say program the heart and soul, in all different shapes where world becomes colorful, and we form tribes of people. I walk through this earth and see thousands of lives, often feel compelled enough to chameleon into a few.

Language. To speak, to know, to think. The serpent, the femme fatale; the love of my life I have chased, and finally tamed. Do you know? I've spent decades wishing for you to be mine; now you sleep soundly by my side. With her I spend night and day together, through her I found the strength to conquer. Now we live in this grand palace, and life before her felt like a distant dream; until tonight she whispered to me: "where would you be, without me?"

Where would I be? How would I be? The echoing sound starts driving me crazy. Gentlemen, don't you see the irony? Words; only way for me to understand the absence of her, is through her. Knowledge; my stunning mistress, devil in a new dress, whispering in my ear asking what I'd do without her, while undressing right in front of my eyes. The figure has crawled near me, I feel my body succumbing to the familiar scent of danger. Yes, no. Fuck. After all it is my own desires I cannot conquer. I've known since the day I met you, that you are my light and my doom. But what can I do?

Forgive me God, for I've failed yet again to overcome my obsession. My pathological obsession, with the picture instead of the truth. But you know it already, don't you? You've plotted this as my great misfortune. You wrote it in my book, that I will get everything I wanted; before I can finally see my wants are but a grand mirage.

Once again she's conquered me. The mirage has dispersed, my vision no longer covered. I am back in the boundless desert. I should have known, the oasis was never near, and the sea of sand has condemned me to eternity. Father, take me back to the beginning. I was more complete without her. I was a kid without her. Before fate brought us together I spent years in unconsciousness. Never looked within myself, never analyzed this life. I yearn for that time, back then I know nothing, so all I know was peace.

Now I cannot live without her. Father, you've planned this encounter. I know, yes you told me in a dream: you don't give me battles that I am not ready for; but Father, can I say I am confused? How do you unlearn things, erase the paper all brand new? Father I am sorry, sorry for trying in arrogance, sorry for putting my own glory before yours, believing I can handle all this without your help. All this effort to build a better self, word by word, knowledge by knowledge, skin by skin, I overlooked this great irony: I never needed more. The heart and soul I was born with were already complete. The most complete and the most vulnerable. So delicate and vulnerable, I feel insufficient in front of her allure. As I put on armors out of insecurity, the heart loses its tender; the armor was carved out from the tenderness lost, leaving scars that I no longer have strength to heal.

Father's Response:

Son, I have heard your prayer. I see a soul tormented by his mind. I see the agony you've struggled to hold. We haven't spoken for so long. I am happy, today you have come to seek me. Please rest assured, I knew your pain before you were born.

We know the history. Your species, born in the Garden of Eden, was handed the best of all things. Until your ancestor's courtesy towards one odd creature and appetite for one strange fruit, decided you needed more, more than the best things. Stretching their feeble arms to seek strength from Satan; O the arms were feeble, yet why have you forgotten? I promised you, I promised to protect you.

Yes I saw, in their heart I made with soft gold, a voice of silver chrome arose: "Have you considered: you can protect yourself too?" I saw Adam nod in hypnosis: yes. With that nod, the gates began to close behind him, thereby began your exile.

We had to be separated, which I always find unfortunate. I know, you must find it hard to talk to me. You fear my wrath, intimidated by my power. I hear your heavy footsteps outside my door, a shadow tracing its guilt back and forth. My heart aches seeing you suffer. I want to tell you, "Knock, and I will answer"; but I know you'd hate for me to issue an invite. I must set myself on the sidelines, and wait for you to muster your courage to run back to these arms.

Son, I no longer blame you. Millennia have passed, and I have come to see my own harshness too. Who is to say the heaven you lost, is better than the towers you built? Son, the past is in the past; the future is manifold. Go, venture into the ocean; go build, go live the life you chose. One day you will be called back to my side, and I will be there, waiting to hear of the wonders you saw.

Magician's Monologue:

Good morning, gentlemen. I saw our father in a vision. Yes we saw, he has decreed, in the very code he wrote, that nothing made by our hands will ever reach his world. Which is how our people came to know: the best thing that could be done, and has been done, is to build such diversity of architectures that populate the Earth. It is no Eden, but we feel happy to call it home.

To my darling, I am sorry. I have realized, that you were never at fault. Tragedy begins only when I strive to find myself in you. The greatest lessons I learned have been about unlearning, resisting, and recognizing that no man-made tower is ultimately safe enough to shelter in.

All of us want security. Some of us provide security. A man like me never doubted he was among the chosen few; yet many days he also yearned for the warmth of a home. However, as he sleeps in comfort, the tower starts to crumble. He had no choice but fled, and was sent back dwelling on the great wasteland. There he must sit alone and grieve. There among the rubbles he was told, one must build a house with his own hands — thus even if the house collapses, he leaves no regrets; for he's been gifted the highest reward, a dignified call back to ashes and dust. The badge of honor, to stand and die for what he built, and what he chose.

Gentlemen, let us remember: do not seek solace in false gods. The god of rationality; the god of love stories; the god that says all men are created equal; the god that decides your race to be more equal. The god that sent great individuals; the god that worships powerful machines; the god with eyes on the universe and beyond; the god that encourages earthly pleasures. These are spectacular architectures, made for men in lethargy, to keep them in lethargy. These towers you may visit, but must never reside in; a great number of occupants always make the tower tumble. Remember, it is never safe to live in a home that is not yours. You must build your own. The only solace you will ever find is up in the sky, when you miss our heavenly Father.

And lastly, remember: do not build things to flatter him either. For the mind of God has no preference outside of a pure heart. Listen to his voice and see things as they are. He has instructions for you. Build, as you were told.

As this monologue concludes, the beauty is tamed and sleeping soundly in my arms. Glory to the Lord, for gifting us another day spent peacefully; until inevitably a storm interrupts this calm ocean. Then I know, once again, it is time to look up and seek strength from above.