Idolizing False Existence

     I knew a man, like the back of my hand (which once held a small cute freckle). I knew his name, his story and i shared his present. I revered this man. I held him so close to my heart that without him there, I felt as if there was no safety. My endearment and worship was cut short after 19 years. The bitterness of death's cold grip had snuffed out the golden light i shrouded that man in; and in the quietness of one beings sleep, he slipped away from the cruelty of this world.
    It had felt as though when his life ended as did mine with it. I fell from the warmth of that golden light right into a bottle of whatever proof i could land in. Nobody prepares you for death. There is no manual for grievance. Your heart and your mind become tangled and your breathing becomes shallow, then your body runs off instinct. This is when your mistakes happen, when you're spinning out of control trying to find the Earth because the Universe is suffocating you.
    I do not know what finally ceased the spinning, perhaps it was an agreement so longingly met by my head and heart. But there i stood, in static; and oh dear reader it crashed. I thundered down into my bleak reality and in me stood silence. I sensed a fragment of radiance, I had convinced myself that this small warmth was my last shard of hope. But like all situations, the human mind is never satisfied. So, for the next 11 years I heavily pondered the questions that this Idol of mine had left me with, unanswered. 
    One's mind will implode with the sight of hope in one's heart; and the heart will be selfish and hold onto the small glimmering light for itself ONLY. Did i gain this small hope when spinning in the cosmos? Did I inhale such things while gasping for air from my own solemn torture? I wrote my Idols story down and then i wrote it down again. Trying to make sense of it for i thought; for sure i thought i had known him. I told his stories to one person, then to 5 persons, then all who would listen. People remembered him differently than I. Did we all not know my Idol's story? I tried achingly regaining the narrative. How could I not remember the stories that these people were telling me? Was it in retaliation? Had i failed him? But my golden shroud... was that just ideology? 
    I searched tirelessly for the answers of his past in my present. Until his past came stalking me like prey. I stood, motionless, breathing steady and the universe opened up and sucked me back into the mess of the celestial. I did not wage war against its methods, for i already experienced its cyclone. I simply inhaled deep (scared of not knowing how long i would be without air) and I curled myself in wait for the ride to be over. 
    Static, stillness, warmth. I opened my eyes to survey and was abruptly bludgeoned by the truths of my idol's past. LIES!!! BLOOD! HE FED ME LIES!!! PAIN AND SUFFERING! LIES! I consumed this raw rage of truths, I devoured it as giants of lore devoured feasts! HE FILLED ME WITH LIES! BETRAYER! USER! LIAR! CHEAT! HOW COULD I BE SO FOOLISH! THAT MAN NEVER EXISTED! SO BLIND!
 OH NO! 
THE LIGHT! 
The light...
It was false... 
but my heart... 
my poor heart was holding onto that small light...
    It was that moment, in my rage and fear. I reached into my own cavity, battling with my own heart to release it. I retrieved it whole, leaving my heart fractured. It's hands once full and content now empty, shriveled and crumbling. I took one last look at the remnant light of lies and cast it down to the darkest corners of the universe... and with tears in my eyes i descended back to another forlorn reality.
    My feet fell from beneath me and I folded into the dirt. My strength gone, my idol; false. The Earth did not hold me, for they were arms. My heart filled with hope once again, overflowing from the brim! The story teller of truths! There she was, the keeper of the truth in my idols scriptures. Tears flowing freely from her eyes. A Martyr, for her trials and voyages! She asked for no merit. Altruistic! She picked me up and brushed the pain from me, renewing my shelled body. Though hollow and new; filled with hope knowledge and truth. 
    Much like that freckle on the back of my hand time has faded it significantly, much like time will wear on the memory of a man that never existed.
    And if you are wondering, adored reader... i do breath easy now, for my Martyr sits with me and not above.

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