His Dream Saved My Life

Our soon-to-be hero,
Zynth, knower of knowledge,
Learned The Knowledge from zero.
What he knew, he knew not from college.
But from his adventure that he dreamt
Are we saved from what is not meant?
What occurred, had never before,
And the fabric of time, he tore.
With one swift motion, we were saved
To live one day more.
And so we hear his story
Engraved in stone,
And sung by the sway of the trees,
Which is lent to our ears,
To listen but never to tell.
Forever we must remember,
For forget is repeat,
And repeat, is a great defeat:

Tonight the hunter stole,
Another’s achieved soul.
He has thieved a brother’s
Reputation and sold it to the others.
For this he must pay
That his guilt will eternally say,
What is known,
Solely to his soul.
His actions fueled by greed
Have earned him a great toll none can exceed.

That night he dreamt
A dream, that he will never forget.
But the dream trapped him with a net.
As prey, he never had a choice.
He was dropped upon a world,
That had no voice,
And so into a ball he curled,
Until he had the found the courage to explore.
So then, Zynth was determined to seek,
Seek the secrets to his deceit.
He found he was standing on stone,
Which he knew, was always prone
To be cold to the touch,
Yet the one he felt was warm. Punch
Is was what he did from instinct,
Because to him, extinct
May he become if he is fooled by a predator,
Which is always warm with blood from its prey,
Which never appears to be of topic to say.
Yet here we see the boulder,
Which hummed against his shoulder.
Unresponsive to his attack
Until he found the lack
Of life, or rage.
Either way, he never found a sage
To tell him the difference.
Then he accumulated more confidence,
Given to him by the god of the mountain,
When he found a fountain
That had odd symbols inscribed beneath the stone.
Concerning their meanings, he would have never known
That they warned of a traveller’s drink
That it may never be done without a moment to think
About the effort invested by nature to create that pleasure,
That life. The Thirst he gained upon his first drink was beyond measure,
For he had never been taught to thank nature’s will
Of gifting him with a life he has not appreciated still.
Then, nature’s mercy gave him an opportunity
To live despite his ignorance and lack of sense of community
And to live in gratitude with the gods and nature for life
And yearn for greater knowledge to light the darkness of ignorance.
As he quenched his thirst and thanked the forces of nature,
He continued on with his quest for his departure.
To his home, where he will tell others of his happenings
Was where he seeked to go, but some rings
On the edge of the fountain made him stop to wonder
To whom they belonged, and if there could possibly be anyone fonder
Of the circular objects than him.
For they were seducing him with their beauty, right there on the rim.
As he went to take them, his reflection made him halt,
For the water was informing him of his fault.
A whisper in his head told him of the effects of the rings.
It said they had the ability to do many things.
It gave him the power to rule.
It said the rings would use him as a tool
To control the world and take him captive
Behind his back, they would betray him with the motive
To make him forget,
Forget his mistake.
He saw the doorway out a few miles ahead,
But he chose the other path instead.
And so, being as obvious as it may seem, the temptation was unbearable,
For the effect instilled and kindled within him was terrible.
He stopped hearing the whisper in his head,
After it lastly said,
As punishment for your weak will,
I will never again be in your head for you have surely committed a kill
By ignoring the voice, you have capitulated
Your will to the rings, and by doing this, you have surely mated
With the devil, for you are no longer in control of you actions.
All that is left is a memory’s fractions
That will haunt you forever more.
For you have been given the opportunity to bore
Into the fabric of time and peek at what lies ahead if others take your same path. If all goes as you have assured it to go, as you see here. Sane
Will no longer be the people of your village, or of any other for that matter.
And it will get sadder and sadder.
For the people will never hear the voice you just murdered, the voice of conscience, which causes respect, honesty, generosity, love,
And numerous other virtues. The only hope (a trait that can never desert
any person, for it is encrypted in their souls) for your species, that you insert daily into this path of destruction, is that this memory which I have planted within you, shall sprout to be a prosperous and loving team which wanted
we always have, to become. This decision you have taken to accept temptation has not affected your imminent future. Erected
has always been your fate to rule your people during your lifetime,
but how you go at this you can choose to decide every step of the lime-savored path you have now chosen.
The door to my voice will now be frozen,
But in time, I trust that you may yearn to open it,
And so it shall be. Until that day arrives, you are no longer fit
To have a conscience, and thus, will power.
A spark I have left within you to remember of your sour
Choice, so that you may one day recover me. Yet the actual recovering must be done by your brothers, for your choice has left you without the right to live under the consent of the gods. The spark I speak of
Will travel to your time
And speak to your mates in rhyme. Good luck!”
Zynth was astonished at the voice he had heard in his head.
He forgot what it said
The instant he stopped to think about what he read,
On the stone of the fountain, which he could now comprehend.
He saw a white light exit from within his head, travel down to the ring, send
(for it was cold back home) the light towards the north, towards the exit door. For he was left alone with only a candle lit. As he saw his memory and his life flash by, he managed to beg forgiveness to his brother from whom he had stolen, and turn around to find he was in the future of his home if his people did as he did. What he saw made him shriek in fear.
The deserted desert was far too near.
And thus, Zynth woke without waking, for he had become a vegetable,
Trapped within his own mind, trapped by the uncontrollable.
Trapped by the gods.

BY VICTOR VAINBERG