Sole Searchin ...

Eyes wide open; a boy confined by darkness understands not where to step. Knowing his soul exists, he, full of fear, does so anyway without course, but with cause. He hears a voice inside telling him to be still. He rummages about, in search of what he came with, yet somehow misplaced. His measures are as rocky as a trembling quake. They are symmetrically placed in a manner befitting a commoner anointed a king. Unbeknownst to him, though. Struggling with the premise of continuing to err, the child, still wandering, falls. No hands come to aid him. He shuts his eyes. A tear trickles down his broken face, and dries in the coldness of the night. He asks for illumination, and laments for help while fading into a slumber. Finally, he is still.

Morning comes, and light is ubiquitous. The stumbling blocks are now visible. The thorns, avoidable. The water, clear as day. He stands, and walks toward it. He kneels, and pans the water attempting to cleanse the dust off his brow. For the first time, a man sees his manifestation. He experiences joy. His lonely search for his soul complete in a reflection. Now he understands, what he knew not. The man grasps what he before had lost, never to let go of it again. Abiding by what he knows, he, and his love, is limited by nothing. His throne is ready for him, and he is prepared to take it.