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    Ad Infinitum Book One Master of the Nine Steps

    Page 3
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    CHAPTER ONE

      I am the rising sun, the son of infinity

      I am the only one who won the sea;

      When your search is done, come to me

      When your wisdom is none, come to see

      To anyone, the sight from me

      To anyone, the light is free;

      So come to me, run—

      Everyone

      And you shall see

      Wisdom is free

      In the sea

      Of the

      Rising

      Sun

      The stars became visible

      Again

      An infinite rush,

      The voice was gone

      I sat

      For a moment

      Sifting sand and memories—

      Cool in the night

      I arose

      Looking away from the stars

      To the desert in front

      And all around

      I moved on

      In thought

      Thinking about the voice

      "Riddles

      As I push through the sea

      Frustrating

      As I track through the sand

      Taunting

      As I search for the sun

      The voice—

      Riddles that

      Cry to me

      As I wade through the rivers of sorrow

      Sing to me

      As I dance through the clouds of joy

      Mourn to me

      As I struggle through the oceans of hate

      Bring to me wisdom

      As I search for the sun

      Yet—how dark my eyes

      The voice—

      Its shadow rises free from the deep

      To fall upon this page of life

      To become another scratch

      In the world of infinity—

      It rushes forth from the movement

      Of my soul

      It throws its wisdom

      laughingly at the world

      It rolls in its laughter

      And wallows in its glory

      It embraces my sorrow

      And glories the more

      It embraces my gladness

      And glories the most

      If only

      I could be the poet"

      I thought

      As I crested another dune

      "To bring forth my own failures

      My own triumphs"

      I stopped, a moment,

      To breathe slower

      I looked again

      For the garden—

      Through straining eyes,

      All was dark but the stars

      And ripples of moonlight

      Upon the desert sands

      "If only it were I were the poet

      Instead of the pen—

      The thought

      Instead of the ink"

      The voice

      Within and without

      Was always with me—

      A stranger,

      A poet in my soul

      And my world

      "You are the life and I the rock

      You the wind and I the sand"

      Silently,

      Inwardly,

      I smiled

      I began walking the crest

      Below

      I saw a set of tracks

      Dying in the sand

      I slid down the crest

      To follow them

      "Yes-

      The voice is my master

      Sounding my depths

      Without my will,

      But

      The day is near"

      I thought jubilantly,

      "And soon

      I will be the master

      Free

      And truly

      Of the power"

      I continued on

      Following,

      Tracking tracks tracking the sun

      I breathed out

      Heavily

      As I trudged up

      The next dune

      The tracks

      Trailed to the crest, over

      And out of sight

      The sand slid

      As I topped the crest,

      In the distance

      I could discern

      The peaks of mountains

      "So,

      Here is the new garden"

      I thought

      I followed the tracks

      Down the dune

      And continued my journey

      Toward the mountains

      I knew that a new garden

      Meant

      New lands

      New adventures

      New cultures

      New people

      New friends and enemies

      (The way of relativity)

      But more importantly

      I knew from prophecies

      That this garden meant

      The end of my search

      In the world as I knew it

      As the mountains became larger

      With my approach

      I could see a jungle to the right of them—

      Miles of stretching green

      Ominous and dark

      "Yes,

      Here is a jungle"

      I thought

      As I moved on

      "A world totally of its own—

      Savage

      Primitive

      Brutal;

      Yet,

      A world more honest

      Than most of the worlds

      Made by man

      A world in which

      Death

      Is a means of survival

      And not pleasure

      Nor sadism

      Nor profit

      Nor any of the other reasons

      That man finds it expedient

      To kill another being"

      I came to a stop

      And scrutinized the fringe

      Further down

      I could see the rolling

      Of the hills and plains

      Continuing and composing

      Completely

      The horizon

      I looked Back

      Toward the mountains

      And moved On

      Soon

      The dunes became smaller—

      They began to level

      Smoothing,

      Calming to meet the jungle

      Moving

      Step upon step

      Upon the desert sands

      Became easier

      As the dunes dwindled

      And the sand became more firmly packed

      Searching ahead

      I could see

      Leafy vegetation

      Trees and vines

      Intertwining

      The ominous foliage

      Forever distant

      "What was that?"

      I squinted my eyes

      And peered further into the dark

      Near the jungle—

      I thought I saw

      Something white

      And fluttering

      I,

      The searcher

      Stood looking

      It seemed

      As if

      A signal,

      Or perhaps

      It was a white leopard

      In curiosity

      I turned my path

      Toward the white

      "I have never seen

      Before

      An animal of the jungle

      Standing silent

      Upon the fringe

      Perhaps someone

      Is in distress"

      I moved silently,

      Leaving tracks behind

      As I traveled upon

      The sands of time

      "Being close to the sun

      And knowing

      The ways of the desert

      Perhaps

      I can help"

      As I came closer

      To the jungle

      And the fluttering white,

      As the moon rose higher

      In the dark sky-

      Shining beams upon beams

      Upon waves and waves

      Of sand and foliage,


      And as the noises of the jungle—

      Insects

      Birds

      Predator and victim

      And others

      Became more violent,

      Finally

      Before me

      I could see upon the fringe

      Of desert and jungle—

      A woman

      Merely a woman,

      Beautiful

      She was standing

      Silent

      With wind blowing hair

      And swaying silk

      Like rippling milk in white

      I moved silently

      Closer

      Upon her bosoms

      Long dark hair

      Undulated softly

      In the wind

      "Catly closer," I thought

      "And see the . . ."

      It was then

      Again

      That the ringing

      Intruded

      Ever increasing

      Silent,

      Then soft

      The coming of Ad Infinitum

      Always present

      Never ending—

      But forever

      The silent sound

      I knew

      Once again

      The voice would set forth

      In mental sound

      (And subtly disguised)

      Words of inner wisdom—

      "And

      Like the echoing waves of words

      Whispering

      Upon the oceans of time,

      Resounding,

      Touching

      The edge

      Of my mind—

      The silent voice of Ad Infinitum

      Quiet now

      And listen

      Hear it"

     


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