Property of the gods

There may have been a part one to this somewhere, but now only fragments remain in my memory...

“Open a hole in that wall for me will you, there’s a good chap, and don’t spare the custard,” said I to a certain slave who was on the eager to please list.

He got right to it and in no time at all there was a hole in the wall that I walked right through. “Torch!” I called, and one was placed in my hand.

I raised it up and shone it about and I found that I was in a huge cavern that was eleven miles high, fourteen miles deep and twenty four miles across and stacked to the ceiling with gold coins 27 karats each and still shiny after thousands of years of being buried in the cave.

So anyway, I filled my pockets up with as much as I could carry and sealed the cave back up and made the long trip back to civilisation through the Amazon jungle, and of course I swore everyone to secrecy, but I needn’t have bothered for within the first five miles the first poor wretch succumbed to some wretched death and the rest soon followed him.

This caused me some concern for how now was I going to carry all the gold and stuff out of here?

“Kill not I into some tomb for your revenge,” I called out then for I felt the gods were not on my side, and maybe they needed some encouragement I thought and pulled out some of the gold in my hands and offered it up hoping to appease them, but I was not answered and got a rainstorm for my troubles that made it hard going so that by mile ten I was exhausted and certainly out of ideas “In This Godforsaken Jungle” I found myself in alone and hopelessly outnumbered by beasties that wanted to eat me at their earliest convenience.

Being an Englishman I was not going to let a few beasties beat me nor anything else so I trudged on and three months later I came to a village where I managed to resupply and hire a few porters for all the luggage and gold and stuff that I’d had to haul behind me for far too long.

Well, now I could breathe a little easier I thought as we set off the very next morning to much cheering and a few wails from the wives, and god bless them for supplying their men to carry me out of here, although I feared there was still some way to go yet before I was out of the trees of the jungle and back in civilisation with my horde.

Some months later and I was beginning to wonder if we’d taken a wrong turn, we should have hit the Atlantic ocean by now after travelling due east by my trusty compass but all I could see before me was more of the same and by now I was mightily fed up with trees, but there was nothing for it but to carry on.

I thought that the gods must be laughing at me and messing up my compass for the next thing we all knew was walking out of the jungle back into the village where we started from and being greeted with much joy that did nothing for my consternation at finding myself back where I’d began the journey months ago.

I’m not much of a one for giving up on a thing especially so much shiny metal but enough was enough.

After burying the gold in a safe place I hit the trail again and was at the ocean within a week and back home a week later and of course I went back many times trying to find the cave again but I never did, and then one day I found myself too old to go on another expedition, and anyway, all my money was used up by now and I was spent after a lifetime of searching.

Oh but what could have been if I’d found it again and got it back, I could have been the king of the world and everyone would have been my slave, for everyone bows before gold. But now only my grave awaits me and I’m certain there’s no gold there.

STARING AT THE SUN TOO LONG

If I stare at the sun too long will I really go blind? They tell me so many things and so many of them have been disproved it’s hard to believe anything they say anymore.

A while back I decided to disbelieve everything they say until it is proved as an indisputable fact beyond doubt.
Who are they, I mean really, who are they, and where do they all keep coming from? There seems to be some kind of fat-cat machine that churns them out, and they’re all good for nothing, not one is a farmer or a nurse or something useful like that, they all seem to be from some economics or law factory where they’re robotically programmed to believe in the god of money and the law of the rich; when was the last time that one of them went to prison for stealing a sandwich?

And the stink they’re making of the planet can be tasted everywhere; there seems to be no escape from them, nowhere you can go to live free of their influence, not one place that isn’t polluted by their corruption and greed.

They look down with their eyes in the sky and their big bombs and tell us the world is safer; safer from what?

Throughout history they are the ones who have started all the wars, and they say they are the civilised ones and that they must preserve their way of life at all costs as they hide behind their huge walls while the terror they create comes among us to do so much harm. And afterwards they run the numbers up and say who the bad ones are and they are who we must fight with their war machine, while all the while they gobble down their fat food and laugh their heads off at all the harm they’ve caused, safe behind their huge walls paid for and built by us.

And they’re so entrenched in their power base they can’t be touched or held accountable, not yet anyway, maybe one day when enough of us wake up to know what’s going on.

So I stare at the sun and wonder if I’ll go blind before the answer comes.

End of report number 737, to be put with all the other ones.

TALL AGAINST THE SKY

For those who know, heroes are not born here, they are made and made again. They wander from room to room until it is so. And then one day they break out and never look back, and their shadows are seen tall against the sky.

Lovers too are made this way when they enter the arena, their heart so intimate for all to see, and to be hurt.

And hurting they slip into the deep where others fear to fall; and meeting their true love they know all else is foolish whimsy.

And if they come back you can tell their heart is forever lost to something only they can see. It is the way of true love, you have to lose yourself completely, only then will you know what your heart is made of.

Image from a wall in Thailand

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