“Ok listen this time! I’m from Erie, Pennsylvania. We are in Colorado. I didn’t walk here!” The voice leaves bare lips.
“The where and when are coming from different places. You will search for why! But the where simply changes” The chocolate Buddha speaks. “Hearing and listening aren’t the same.”
“I didn’t come here by my own free will. I was thousand miles away. And boom! I’m here talking to a statue! This is where thing. I like to know where exactly I am now. And if you don’t mind what day and time is it. I’m not lulling myself into believing in was beamed here.” I’m openly hostile. I point to the ground like it matters. My heart is full of fear more than rage.
“You came here to free yourself of the chaos and chains you have forged. Everyone does. That’s why we have the farm. We grow here. If you open your mind more than your mouth. You will see there’s no fear necessary here. Walk the paths. Concentrate on where you are attempting to go.” The Buddha changes arm position so to show the symbol of the message.
“LOOK! I want to go back to my home. Now, tell me how I got here!” My reasoning with a statue hats the wall quickly. My head looks for cameras. Someone is controlling this thing. They know. They have taken the wrong person.
“Free, you are not bound here. The only person controlling you being here is you. Are you experiencing paralysis? My eyes see no strings on you! I asked you to take a path of your choosing. I didn’t force you to move. Your choice stay here and ask something I do not control. You found a path here. It is my place to give answers that open your mind and heart. Do you know your mind well enough to find your way?” The statue returns to original form.
“So, do the little guys help me too? I’ll walk a path. But I’ll be back. Unless the way opens before me.” I sink into cyincial territory.
The statue fails to respond.
I stroll toward the gate. Above the sign reads “A PLACE OF HEALING”
I am unaware of the wounds that brought me here. I don’t forsee understanding the purpose of being here. I could use another pill to control the manic swing grading hold of me. They must have taken them away from me.
Written as part of a challenge called Tale weaver, details at mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com