With the sun of purity having set in the anti-horizon he trampled, by the deceitful robbing of his dying mother, using force of the sick-ancients he repressed the guilt.
Walking through the twisty bazaar, the bustling gibberish of living souls, were to him as ominous murderous-laughter of crows.
The playful children coming close sensed a sick “ew” in their stomach-pit.
The seductive look of hot-mamas, now morphed into disgusted-sneers.
Head down feeling the few hundred pounds of cosmic-shame, sinner-Maxie reached the docks; ignoring the curse-train of gypsy sailors, quickly paying for a ticket, Maximus Max crawled the decks deep thus; seeking a hidden spot, to hide, counting his 30 pieces of gold.
Sudden rapid movement every few minutes, shook the core of betrayer-Maxie.
Sensing the sadistic vengeance of mother-universe, who witnessed when Max spit in her image, turning his back on his greatest love, who supported him with 3 jobs, seared & branded in his own heart, darkness engulfed Max.
Fear, terror, guilt & shame, regret, frozen-sadness and miserable pain, Vomiting Varying Virtuous Vultures, Stupefying Sickly Shiraz Solvents, hopeless loveless and in pitch-blackness, Max slept in the belly of the ship.
Falling down the spiral of grey psychedelic goo, hands stuck and feet tied, not moving to & fro, suffocating under pressurized truth scare-tactics, the pain of denial being too hard to face.
Awoken at midnight, with violent vibrating of the angry-ship. Sensing the putrid soul of the decrepit-Maxie, she was shaking at the merciless unease of the burden she carried.
Gathering of the elder sailors amidst the raging of the waves, raged on o so very intense.
Praying to every God, on heaven & on earth, and even to an unknown one, who happened to be the Light who is the Creator of all.
Sending a black & white dove, which flew below the deck, the Light led the sailors to the sleeping & hiding Anathema-boy.
Unable to escape, having been fed by the love of the love he had betrayed, Max was overcome with remorse & grief.
Falling on his hands & knees, begging them to please, forgive my abominable soul, before this guilt drags me to take my life.
The sadist-snake of serpentine-evil, crouching at his door, Max almost he mastered.
Filled with compassion yet enraged, the sailors now turnt into believers, having seen the stirring of the true God, they once more humbly sought His help.
Instructed by the Light, to find an unfindable remote-place, prisoning Maxie-Max, on a parolless hell, forcing him to face his trash, for the helpless mother he thrashed.
With gentleness and apologies, the gentle-sailors gently dropped sad-Maxie at the accursed island.
Broken boards here & there, and a trillion shells which no one had picked, and a sense of glooming wildness, untouched by mankind’s perfectionist-grasp, surrounded the skin of Max.
Palm trees and cute-coconut vibes, crabs and the sun gentle & kind, now morphed into insidious anti-life, in the universe of Brother-Max, as they failed to carrass his back.
Leaving him with boxes of paper, and ink to last many centuries, simple tools and a quick fixer-upper cave, teaching him how to catch a fish here & there, the sailors after a weeping prayer, sealed Max’s earthly-life on the Dungeon-Island.
For weeks he was trapped in a frozen state, with guilt, worthlessness & shame completely dominating his will.
Finally one morning, using every ounce of his being, since he needed food & warmth, he moved outside the cave.
Muscles, body & heart were weak, his soul almost completely blind. Feeling the fresh scent of the morning breeze, a gentle Dandelight of hope was planted in His Heart.
“If in these depths of agony-inferno,
I open myself to my very core,
Letting the waves of pain,
Wash over the rock of my heart;
Rather than resisting, gnashing and saying no,
Or weeping in victimhood & rebellion,
If I were to confess & forsake my sin,
And face my punishment which is great;
Then at the end of this life,
Or perhaps a few more after that,
I can pay for my filthy-hands.”
Quickly adopting the attitude of surrender, Grandmaster-Maxie sought sticks & twigs, even catching a stinky fish.
The night-sky, raped by all kind of stars, even looked kind & bright.
Feeling cold, hungry & uncomfortable, laying on his back looking at the orange-infested ancient-cave ceiling, Max went to the core of his suffering, allowing the torture of the time-pain rip & tear and go through him.
For 7 years he practiced, to be still and take cold & hunger, teaching himself to receive; the plan was to later face his spiritual pain.
Mastering the elements, Seventh-Degree black-belt Max, stepped out of the cozy cave, on the 8th year and 1st day.
Walking gracefully to the sandy shore, even gently poking a couple of cute baby-lizards, Maximus Max felt blooming & uplifted today.
“MAX, MY SON!”
“…!!!!!!!!!!!… Who is there?!”
“MAX, MY SON!”
“Hello? Show yourself!”
“Max, My Son, I am the Light, the Creator of all, having seen your sadistic-exploit, of your mother that is, for 30 pieces of junk, not worth the alabaster-jar your mother broke on your feet; did she not wipe your feet with her tearful hair?
Max my darling boy, this betrayal you did, don’t think it is gone by 7 years. Your pain has just begun. Spend another 7 years in self-judgment and surrender yourself to the guilt of your heart. In the dark night of your soul, with no place to escape, bare your soul & face.
After this 7 years, after you have faced the dungeon-dwelling truth deep-hidden & repressed, in the final 7 years, write all that you feel and once that is done, your life I will take, and all your writing will turn to dust.”
“But o great & wonderful Light, the kindly Shepherd helping me through my plight, if for seven years I write, with no one else to read & care, will it leave a lasting effect?”
The Light withdrew in an instant, refusing to answer Maxie-Max.
Having now been hit with the master arrow, alone and even feeling rejected by the Light, grandmaster Maxie opened himself up top to bottom, to face the purifying-flame.
Seven years of self-judgment passed,
And seven as a free-flowing pen-man;
As the torturer of the future-self arose in Max’s horizon,
He opened up his heart & soul,
To confess & forsake his sin,
And to face his evil-anima,
For his hidden & monstrous crime;
Penitent man had passed,
And with truth he was set free at last,
His unknown writing having mattered much,
To release Light into the spiritual universe,
St. Maxie having carried mankind through a dark age,
Breathed His Omega-Breath.
By Ashkan Jafarpisheh – August 2020