The Chariot

        More and more enemies are coming to attack him as he presses onward to his calling for beauty. He comes to a dead end. With nowhere to go, he gives up running and they swarm in. Completely surrounding him, they tear him apart limb from limb. In the midst of this torture, his eyes start to change. Two horses charge in to save him, one white, the other black. They both have equal power and devotion towards his calling. They manifest within his eyes and become him. They charge him out of the terrible trap he has run into and carry him away in the opposite direction he had been running to. Now elevated up, and accelerating fast, he sees far and wide. He is moving with a great and mysterious force.

        This is where he finds that there are two of him. In addition to his protected self that is riding the Chariot, there is a wounded self that he is bearing along with him. He continues to carry his wounded self down the road as if it is a burden he will have to carry for the rest of his life and he is ready for that feat. Carrying himself as long as he can, he eventually falls to his knees. He begins crying – not wanting to let go of everything that made him happy, gave him love, let him see beauty. He knows he can’t carry this part of him any longer if he is to continue, and he knows he must keep moving. So he leaves his wounded self to die on the side of the road and he continues on. He is freed of it, but he may have to live with the experience of that sacrifice for the rest of his life. Knowing it will always be a part of his past, he only allows it to make him stronger.

        All the beauty and joy he has ever known has been left behind, and he knows he can never go back to it. He is more alone than ever, but he keeps on marching. He moves in the best direction he can see, towards the highest good, even though any personal reward seems inconceivable now. The world is a harsh place, only providing more obstacles for him. He is giving all he can while receiving nothing.