For as long as we're together then.....

“It is the responsibility of leadership to provide opportunity, and the responsibility of individuals to contribute.”

William Pollard

I can honestly say that grease is not the tastiest thing to have on your hands. It doesn't help when you have an oral fixation and usually have to nibble or just chew on things as a sign of dealing with stress. If you look at me in the corner of your eye you can see me nibble on a pen cap until it no longer resemble it. It's a habit that has gotten me into much trouble from being contaminated by pure strands of E. coli to leaving bite marks on those who dare leave bite marks on my person. 

 

Yet the taste of thick grease coats my mouth as I wonder where I would be if I was not who I was. Some remark that I'm born under the Moon and Sun, being naturally charismatic and having a Hydish persona that believes in duty and humanity. Other said that I had to prove myself since being the third born, yet first to live I had to make up for cowardly siblings who refused to carry their own weight. Another even mentioned that I come from royal or noble blood, although I just think that she wanted a lackey than anything else.

Pulling myself from the grime and mess, I remembered a time where I wore a suit and believed in the potential of Man. I was watching a group from Compton take charge of three corners and work their hustle as the leader of the group broke down the layers of this cake. Two per corner helped pull from the flow of traffic whist a seventh walked about with an eye for trouble and a stalling plan. If they were questioned, the signal would be made while the seventh spoke to the authorities and humbly nod while buying enough time to scatter the group until they can once again convene elsewhere. I didn't question why he was sharing this with me, but I kept my time asking question on tactics and tact and how to move the masses with a single motion of thought rather and force. He continued to instruct and as an empty vessel I listened. One day I would do the same in another life and would silently thank my friend for not only sharing with me how one worked, but the whys.

 

Reaching for a cigarette, I made careful motions to light it and only after I pulled the filter from the opposite end, making sure that the tobacco didn't spill. I've kept myself from smoking for a while, but I felt that I have given up enough for one night and that I deserved a reward even if it's as miserable as this one. I inhaled the smoke in and let it out of my mouth in one large puff. There is something about tobacco that I find enjoyable. I hate the smoke and dare not inhale the acidic flame down into me, but roll the smoke in my mouth only to taste fire, rich leaves, and air inflamed. I'm a long way from being done and I knew that the sooner I finished I can have what I have been wanting for so long. 

 

Sacrifice. It's nothing but a word really. Some complain about it and others cry their eyes out as they remark how they lost what they desired and treasured. Weaklings. They would not last in a world that lacked heated water for long. People often times complained knowing that their tears will yield no fruit, yet wishing that some fool simply do the work for them. That used to be me a long time ago when I first died. How I hated him. Nothing of who I am now. Spoiled brat who believed that rights were obligations, liberties God given than taken, and soft hands and words would endure in a savage world. I never mourned him nor do I care to remember him. When I approach that reincarnation I take a moment to spit and walk on in disgust. 

The wrench doesn't offer much turn as I look for an extent for the lever. Such a graceful tool the wrench. Is there anything that represent the burden and toil of Man? The heft and weight of it remind me of Olde maces yet with practical uses. How the tools of the worker end up being the weapons of insolence and revolt against a world that have gladly given up the lumps and beatings of their great grandfathers to afford an iPod. No one likes to struggle and work in this day. To suffer and sweat not in a gym is lowly and often seen as less than one's worth. People don't remember the sweat shops, the 12 hour day, and the poor working conditions. The sacrifices of old are the shrugs of today.

"I wasn't trying to save your ass. I was saving the body of the young Lord."

"Well, it's the same ass."

Staring at my fingernails I can see the shoe black. The time I've taken to polish the shoes to a mirror shine with careful details. Lessons learned from the past always taught me to Use my Illusion. To allow no one to assume my full capability and to gauge my potential. Always hide underneath and to remain patient for the right time and place. A well placed pawn is worth more than an embattled knight. Its why you are to remain invisible and unseen. It's why you must always hold back. After all, wasn't it in our lessons that if people knew what we were up to they would stop us from doing it?

Who just don't know or just don't care
And just complain when you're not there
You had your time you had the power
You've yet to have your finest hour

 

Pinching the end closed, the slow burn reminded me of what needed to be done. It always amazed me how so few know what to do or even understand what must be done. In a case of emergency the only differences from most is that if they will evacuate their bowls or not. Those of us who have paid our half pound of flesh close to the heart learned that fear limit us and a well placed movement can save the world. That a second lost is a life abandoned. I understand that now knowing that although I refuse to raise my voice least my ire is at its limit, there are moments that I command loyalty and duty in when it counts. Seeing those follow before chaos and confusion would settle those who followed have learned that the value of a quick mind and a slow one usually resulted in a slow death. Cowardliness and confusion are costly attributes to have when the lives of others hang in the balance. 

And yet, I'm told I'm something to be feared.

So sad.

The second moment of power was not an act of succession that many would contribute to my nature, but of an act of loyalty and love of others on my part. I have a low sense of worth and knowing so I understand that I am able to take the blame, the mockery and the insults with stride and laughter of those who dare wear motley. Those who carry a high pride and a revulsion to manure don't last long enough to distract as needed. And yet, those who do see what is being done often do not understand that an open action of thanks prevents me from continuing the work done and pushes me to spot lights and praise. Those who know the cuts of struggle know that moment that you are found out you are soon removed sooner than later. Those who I love and morn today are a testimony of the such. 

To remain in the mud and pull those out rather than clean off and gain praise

assures that the movement progresses. Ego simply gets you killed and beguiled by those who pulls us back. To focus on the work needed rather than the glory ensures us all of greater days tomorrow rather than just a tomorrow. And yet people seeing that seas open and masses move always let me think of my seasons ending. It places me in front and I know that I'm not ready to run interference for others to take over. It has already broken my heart seeing a great one walk on and yet no one has stepped into his shoes to fulfill the work that has already have fallen fallow.

Perhaps those are my shoes. Perhaps I should step forward even though the hands of those who pull me back beg and plead one moment and tear down and mire. Those who hold back and drag down as dragons of Olde. Those who strike blindly and with fury of drowning snakes. Those who seek to please those who see and scheme to betray the other. It's almost as if shadows have always waited on the painful borders of candle light with a promise of victory and end. They plead for one to take the mantle and to rule as marionettes dance freely. They plot games of the past and seek treachery of  new. 

The moment the shoes are filled the season hastes to end.

To step forward is to accept your death. To stand out is to offer a target. To stand up offers the world shoulders to weigh down and a back to break. Heroes all meet their mortality with an afterlife immortal to the chosen storyteller and the one whose coin weighs most. Seeing them walk behind me reminded me of the weight of my actions and the meaning of what will come. Seeing them choose who to follow and who to lead reminded me that leaders are made and chosen not born. 

Isn't it just hilarious that the price of immortality is your life? At this point, I don't know how many of those I have left to give. 

I'm not one to lead, but damn don't people follow.

Avey's death still hang heavy on my head. His end did not come from bullet, but of his own hand. His shoulders could not carry the weight and his back the pressure of the world. I still carry his death as a warning. If the best of us can be fallen, then what hope do I have? A sacrifice with no fruit is just another meaningless death. It's a movement derailed and a future withheld. I know I'm not able to hide much longer, but a well hidden pawn can be worth more than any embattled piece. 

 

As long as it remains hidden.

Hmmm.....I think I've unearthed a grave or two tonight. Me thinks I should end this quick before I fall into the ranks.

The pipes lines up and water was regained with heat. I will sleep well tonight with new cuts and scars to hide tomorrow. The plaque on my desk once again proved my responsibilities and worth for another hour or so. Then voices and curse would be uttered and empty threats would be launched as I write this now. My work and merit hold still as sand castles on meeting the tide. I remain low once more even though I have done what I could to make life a bit better. The soreness in my back and kinks in my shoulders let me know that I never asked for praise but to get the task done regardless the cost. I call today a victory even though some may wonder if it is any such. I sleep heavy, hold my children tight, and have hot water to soak my pain. 

Was is all worth the cost and sacrifice?

I can't answer that. Perhaps if I'm living I could, but surviving is all I know really. Survivors don't complain. We just have to make it another day and face another challenge. 

Monday comes and we do what we must because we can.

Maybe the sunlight will be dim
But it won’t matter anyhow
If morning’s echoes say we’ve sinned
Then it was what I wanted now

"Carry on", I croaked as I sought the solitude of the only sanctuary here. They can't reach me here....yet. At least not yet.