I was walking in a straight path. In a field of golden grass. Looking up at
the orange sun in late evening and I heard the sun talk to me.

The sun said, "You know what to do, right?"

Astonished at the sun that spoke to me, "What?" I asked.

The sun spoke again "You shall put down your works and wrap barbed wire
around your thinning neck."

Confused with a questioned look, I see razor sharp barbed wire just to the
left of me. Its slightly hidden in the tall swaying grass. Its rusty
serpent curves out onto my approaching path. I pick it up cautiously and
wrap it around my thinning neck. There was enough barbed wire to wrap
around my neck three times, and I do so. Each time the razors dig deeper
and deeper into my neck. Carving puncturing holes for flies to slaughter
and lay larva in. I continue walking with my warm red blood dripping down
my thinning neck.

"You have done wise," the sun speaks to me.

In my path I walk and I can hear the sounds of drums and hand-made
instruments being played in the back of my head.

The barbed wire digs into my flesh with every step I take and my eyes begin
to close in thought of what I am doing. I wonder why lions have not
followed my blood trail or smelt my fear.

I question the sun, "What is this all about? Why did you have me do this?"

A few shadows pass by and then the sun replies, "Because you are an
important one, one who survives many moons, and protects children from the
uniformed dreams."

Not fully understanding what the sun meant, I gave a perplexed look and
glanced toward the top of the sky at the sun. I heard nothing so I
continued on my chosen path between the blades of gold.

By blood now dribbles less, more cold then warm. The sun is completely gone
now and the full moon guides my path. Although my path is no longer that of
golden grass, but now of grey rocks. I am climbing upwards, in this path of
rocks and flowing water. The moonshine reflects on the barbed wire wrapped
around my neck.

I hear voices. Yellings and horrible screams, but all very faint.
Dissappered children, stolen from their beds at night while dreaming. Thats
what it must be, thats what I hear.

My path gets steeper now. And I miss the sun's voice who spoke to me
earlier with sweet orders. Rock climbing, I notice my feet are bare. All
this time my feet have been naked? I donąt remember. I thought I had soles
before, but I suppose I was wrong.

After the nights walk, which seemed for many generations, I got to the top
of my rocky mountain. The altitude delivered fresh air and I could hear
hawks echoing in the valley distance. I stood still with barbed wire around
my neck, which now have carved black holes deep into my throat.

The east was bringing the sunrise. Slowly the same orange sun from earlier
rose into the thinning sky. Oranges and reds and yellows it brought up from
the other side of the land.

As it continued to rise, the sun finally spoke, "Now you shall walk foward,
close your eyes and progress..."

In my puzzle of my own thoughts, I knew if I were to walk foward I would
fall off the rocky mountain. Not understanding the sun's intentions, I
begin to question the sun, "Why?"

The sun continued, "...for the children...do it for the children..."

With my right foot foward I step, I leap, I progress. I saved.




© 1998 David Greg Harth
98.08.23.08:42:00@NYC10012
98.08.24.24:47:59@NJ07430