The Chameleon

I put on my finest robes, my grandest smile of ease, the look in my eyes that says knowledge rests in these and I arrive. I open the door and hug you tight.

You say -it is a fine day to see you-

My impressions move you to share what you have learned with me. And I eager to soak up knowledge take it in with gusto. I bend and writhe ready to answer with all the disguises I have at my disposal. This appearance works, for we dive deeper and deeper into your mind and I am finding the things I came for.

How delicious it is to share with you the dance Of intellect Of understanding, all the deceptions and deceivements, Of sensing pure extacy.

Is this as enjoyable for you as I? I turn back to myself and the experience alights anew.

I push on trusting you but not knowing that I am pushing myself to the bounds until, I fall wrapped in a cloak of blackness. the deception is here. He makes it very clear that I(U) have reached the end of my line for I find myself stirring; in a pot of melted wax unable to grasp the side and climb away from death. So i lay each breathe belabored straining to let go of the encased figure.

I hear shuffling on the wood floor above me. There are people gathered, to watch the mist rise from this disguise one final time and I cannot give them the show they came for, so they wait. They mill around awkwardly as you guide me to the light. The same you I came to find and lost in my deep deep dive.

Were you not my guide my friend?

why Have i gone on alone then and where am i going?

I scurry back and forth between the one lying on the bed in the dark and the one lying, closer to death in the dark. The first can be easily impressed into sight by merely opening my eyes. The other is difficult, it takes focus and will to remain in the dark recess of the mind a niche carved out; by time? I do not know, truly where or how this niche was created only that the abyss is clearly there; present in all actions and accessible if i wish for it to be so.

Back to the rite of passage. There are candles and blankets wrap my slender frail frame. The hymns speak that I am one soon for the grave. I believe it important to go through this wall; to let go but I cannot seem to call upon the strength, bravery or fortitude to push my way through. It becomes apparent I was not ready to do what we both came here for and although you tell me -good job- when I rise from the table and clamber off to ground in something concrete, tobacco, I can tell you are surprised with how easily i was led to the disguise of black robes and unable to shed the hamster wheel we both spent hours making no discernible progress. I am sad and shaken. The cracks are apparent. I feast on soup of chicken and many delicious snacks.

Part of me is eager to go back.

And each day I do, but i no longer trust that you know the way through for you let me come play before I was really ready. Except even now I am better than i was for my trip to death. I am lovier and freer in my expressions of thus.

So can I be upset at you who only offered to clear the festering wounds that plagued my mind?

No; I find in time it is all mine, the decisions the choices, for good bad or worst are mine to make and that can be a scary place. Responsible for my happiness alone, I blaze my days forward ensuring I ask what is this in my path, deception model or glass to be shattered.

what is the matter with me?

Am I as perfect as you find me to be?

Am I ready to see the truth?

Can these eyes behold anything that does not change right in front of the? For they are changed each time they open and upon their close who knows when they will open again. perhaps when the next thought approaches.