The Urbаn Prophet™ 5.0

“The Self is the hub of the wheel of life,
And the sixteen forms are only the spokes.
The Self is the paramount goal of life.
Attain this goal and go beyond death!”
- Prashna Upanishad

“The universe that we inhabit and our shared perception of it are the results of a common karma. Likewise, the places that we will experience in future rebirths will be the outcome of the karma that we share with the other beings living there. The actions of each of us, human or nonhuman, have contributed to the world in which we live. We all have a common responsibility for our world and are connected with everything in it.”
- H.H. The 14th Dalai Lama

I always thought of myself as a strong man. These hands of mine, looked like such strong hands and many a times throughout my life it was through the strength of these hands alone did I persevere. I would brag to friends and to whomever would listen about the supposed strength of my arms. How brash, how bold and headstrong I was, ah for the supposed immortality of youth I would sing ballads of the feats I had and would achieve. In hindsight, how inconsequential it all seems now, how unnecessary, how unimportant as I lay here now watching the blood of my veins, the water of my heart pour out of me like wine from a pitcher, an unintentional offering by them to their Great Mother Ki you could say. For all my supposed strength and virility, cowed am I by a simple four-inch blade carried by a hidden agent of anger and hate, a student of my art, cast from the same mould as I.

It was with an awesome suddenness that I find myself facing my end. I see before me the great big emptiness that many a men I have thrown into and I suppose it is only fitting that this is the end that I deserve. To have the one truth whispered into my ear and the only possession anyone truly has in this world stripped from my hands. Every life must end, that is the one truth, thought to me by all my teachers, a truth which I have thought to all of my students. The one true possession is the breath that you breathe and it is this breath, which is the one, and true gift the gods have bestowed to the entire Universe. Your mind, your spirit, your soul, all are wind in the sky and air that you breath, or at least that is what the ancients have thought us. Now I lie here undone, my life is taken for the gold of another; my breath is slowly taken from me. I feel neither cheated nor defrauded nor my life cut short, for my life has been long and I recognise that my time here is done.

Prior to this, it was by sheer force of will and strength of hand that I survived it all, floods, fires, wars and famines, I traversed more than my fair share of difficulties in this life and in return received more than my worth in glory I suppose, but in my defence I relied on nothing more than myself. I’ve have shown many to the end of their path and commanded many a men who would do my bidding without thought of their own safety. I trained many a good men in my arts, and shown them the joy of the One Truth. In my youth many great deeds did I command Now I find myself an old tired man, tired of this world, made weary from this wound but how sweet life was in my youth. In my time, what adventures did I brave, what excitement did I feel and what wonders have I seen. I have been the King of Kings, Lord of Kulaba. I have led and the people have followed. For I was the Knife of Uruk, the Butcher of Eridu, the Messenger of Nirgal, the Shepherd of Signs, the Great Thief, He Whose Father Was a Phantom, and by so many, many other names have I been known. I came to this land and greatness was not handed to me, instead I took it, so where I went death was sure to follow. The Children of the Land between the Rivers cowered in the shadow of a foreigner.

You see, I wasn’t born here; I came from a land far away, far past the deserts to the east, under the ceiling of the sky, past the navel of the earth. In the land where the gods are our kings and their prophets our ministers, where divinity is so close to the earth that the land is itself is the holy of holies. I came here to the Land Between the Rivers as young man to ply my trade. A simple barber was I, but truth be told so deft I was with my blade that more then just hair was what I cut. My journey here was long and fraught with danger, but my people are a sea-faring race and hardy are in the arts of the sea. Over twelve moons and almost uncountable leagues I travelled over the seas, I the captain’s barber and simple crewman. Many adventures, many feats, so many acts of bravery I can’t begin to tell you all of them. I will leave it to the bards to tell my story.

I’ve always considered myself a very physical person, my wants, my needs, my expectations all revolved around what I could see, feel, touch, hear or taste, upon my senses that defined my world. Gold was my one motivation, my one calling and my one religion. Across the sea I travelled from port to port, city to city, country to country searching for my personal god, selling my talents and practicing my art before I came here, to this land. It was here that I encountered the first mention of my future brothers, they who thought me all that I know now. It was through them that I find myself in the position that I am now. They made me king, only to take it all that meant anything at all away from me. However, I feel neither hate nor need for revenge and see their work as one that was inevitable.

Though this beautiful city between the rivers of the Idigina and the Buranun, with towers of earth rising to the sun is now my home, I still long for the forests of my childhood, thick and lush, on the islands of my youth, my one wish is that my spirit may one day again find the shade of the banyans of my village. This is a city of the uncultured who think themselves cultured; they have no concept of the one true philosophy and know nothing of the old faith, however to my new countrymen, I suppose it is I whom they consider to be the barbarian. They know not of the great achievements of the Peoples of the Eastern Seas. They know not our splendid towers nor our great works and our arts.

Looking back now as I lay here, I have several regrets I suppose. I never found myself a wife nor knowingly did I father any children. However, considering the nature of my livelihood I would have to suppose that this was for the best. No woman nor child deserves a man of such uncertainty as I. It was actually a blessing that I spurned the Priestess of Inanna, never mind her curses and rants. A child of such a union would never live a happy life and the gods forbid that the child would follow in my way and live the life I’ve lead. However, my regret is that the line of my fathers would end so with me. With my death, so die my family and the name of my fathers.

However, there is no point in fearing the inevitable, it’s not as if this turn of events was unexpected. I chose the path the lead me here, it wasn’t as if I did not foresee the results of my actions. I realised my mistake when I found myself alone. Where were my servants, where were my attendants? It was then that it dawned on me that I was about to be visited by a messenger. I knew this would come and it was with great relief that it did. When the messenger whispered the one truth in my ear and showed me the great emptiness that follows, I smiled and asked him why he did not come sooner. He laid my head upon a pillow then told me that he came when he was supposed too, no sooner nor later.

So as I lay here, reading the prayers of my childhood, I feel my life slowly ebb and depart from me, the threads that bind me to this body slowly unwinding, I read the prayer thought to me by my mother and to her my mothers mother and so forth to the very beginning, that tells a story that supposedly was brought to us by our children from far into the future. As I read the words, of how our world began, I slowly begin to die.

Where are you? I call out. Searching for the one who should lead me into the Empty. I am lost for I can’t see my path.

Nothing.

Where are you? I call again. Where are you my guide into the Nothing?

No answer.

I see the emptiness before me unfold as the light from this world fades. My sight slowly dims as I turn my face from this life. I realise that it isn’t darkness that I’m beginning to see, but rather the absence of light. It’s the feeling of not feeling anything at all that begins to taste my soul. I feel the last beats my heart slowly flitters away, and I begin to hear nothing at all. Strangely as I feel my body die around me, I notice my mind still conscious and alert but devoid of sensation.

Where are you my guide? My partner? If you lead I will follow. I call out yet again, voicelessly.

Lead me oh guide. Lead me and light my way. I am done with this world and I long for the next.

I am here.

“…One day (He) was travelling through the villages of India with his attendants. He saw a man doing walking meditation whose face was lit up in wonder. The man had just discovered something on the ground in front of him. (His) attendants asked what that was and (He) replied, "A piece of truth." "Doesn't this bother you when someone finds a piece of the truth, O evil one?" his attendants asked. "No," (He) replied. "Right after this they usually make a belief out of it."…”
- Buddhist Tale

He was a solitary man. He stayed by himself, had few friends and hadn’t talked to another member of his family in the last ten years, actually for all he knew, he WAS the last member of her family. Overweight and angry, you could say that experience has caused Him to have a rather salty viewpoint regarding life in general. He was under the impression that if you looked at life like a game of poker, the hand that he was dealt included the joker and two blank cards mysteriously added to the deck. His mum used to tell him when she was still alive that when life gave you lemons, you should make lemonade, but unfortunately for Him, lemonade gave him heartburn. His negative perspective on everything coloured all his perceptions a nasty shade of unsightly grey. He was far from being happy with his lot in life and he felt that there was no way for his to improve it, and chances are, he’d kill you if you ever tried to prove to her otherwise. By the accounts of all who knew him, saying He was an unpleasant man would be too much of an understatement.

The real victims of His unpleasantness however, had no say in the matter one way or the other and were completely and utterly at his pleasure. He was the proud owner of one of London’s largest textile mills this side of the Thames and under his employ was some 400 young girls the oldest of whom was 19 and the youngest 7. He was a mean spirited man and spared none of them the rod if he saw it necessary and even if it wasn’t. Room and board was what they received and a pittance of spending money.

Conditions were rank and thoroughly foul and many girls fell ill but regardless none was allowed any rest outside the Sabbath. Needless to say, many girls did try their best to leave; however as most of them were indentured by their parent’s debts it was illegal for them to do so. As runaways were a frequent problem, he took it upon himself to keep the girls under lock and key; every door to the outside world from his mill was locked with the only key being held by him. He employed several foremen who were just as heavy handed as him to keep the girls in check.

In contrast to the abject suffering and hardship his girls had to endure, his life then was one of leisure and luxury. He allowed himself all the best comforts that the money he earned off of the sweat of their toil could buy. Never once sharing his wealth with anyone else other then himself. Many would say he was an evil, greedy man, and truth be told he was. Never once in his entire life had he ever thought about anyone else other then himself. Never once had he ever tempered any of his decisions on the off chance that the choices he made may cause harm, always greed and self-centred greed had been his one and only motivation in his life. Altruism was truly an alien concept that was lost on him.

Well now the fruits of his actions have finally come home to roost. When he stood there at the dock of the Old Bailey, he was at a loss of words trying to explain his actions, his actions that led to the deaths of every single employee working at his mill that fateful evening. As he stood and heard the judge pronounce his verdict, his heart sank, heavy with guilt. Yes he was a selfish, yes he was greedy and yes he was ill tempered to the point of being unbearable, but that still didn’t make him such a monster as to not feel guilt over the deaths of 105 young girls.

He never meant any harm to come to them; they weren’t supposed to have been in the factory when he had the fires set. They were supposed to have been out of the factory by the time the first fires were lit. How was he to know that they were still inside when he locked the doors that fateful evening? He wanted to get rid of one of the old storehouses next to his mill but he felt it would be just too costly to simply demolish it. Furthermore, he would have lost all the money he’d paid to insure the building over the years. The most logical thing to do, he thought, would be to burn the building down, after all he’d kill two birds with one stone, he’d get rid of the building plus gain a pretty penny in insurance claims.

How was he to know that the fire would spread to the mill? How was he to know that his Senior Foremen had kept some of the girls back to finish an advance order? He did know that the doors would be locked, because that was his standing policy, the doors would only be opened once the work was done for the day, or night. The girls had no chance at all.

His heart felt torn asunder with unfamiliar feelings of guilt and pain for truly did he feel remorse. Never in his life had he felt anything for anyone other then himself and now he could hardly breathe. All around him, all he could see were the sad eyes of the innocents whose deaths he was to blame for. This burning, retching feeling scored his soul almost to the point of turning him catatonic with despair.

His guilty feelings aside, he was sentenced to ten years hard labour for criminal negligence. As they took him away from the courthouse, tears welled up in his eyes and he cried for the first time, tears not of shame but teas of mourning. The following day a guard found him hanging from from the bars of his cell with a note clenched in his hands with the words, “I’m sorry.” scrawled in charcoal.

"Love is from the infinite, and will remain until eternity.
The seeker of love escapes the chains of birth and death.
Tomorrow, when resurrection comes,
The heart that is not in love will fail the test."
- Jalāl ad-Dīn Muḥammad Rūmī

Don’t leave me baby, I can’t do this alone. How am I going to carry on without you? Please, oh god, don’t die on me babe! Just hold on baby, the paramedics are almost here. God oh god oh god. Can you hear me? Talk to me baby, say something, anything, just don’t sleep. Shit, fuck keep it together baby, don’t fall asleep!

I can’t believe this what the fuck. Why the hell did he have to shoot? Baby, just hold on please. Where are the hell are those paramedics? Oh lord, there’s just so much blood, oh shit. I can’t believe this is happening. This isn’t happening, oh god! Where the hell are they!

Oh god no! Please baby just hold on a little longer, just a little longer, come on you know you can sweety. Baby can you hear me? Please say something! Oh god, oh god, oh god no! Somebody please help us!

I’m so sorry that I was yelling at you earlier baby, it was my fault. I was the dick. Please baby, forgive me, I didn’t mean to get so angry at you just now. Just please talk to me Sweetie. I know I shouldn’t have yelled at you babe, it was such a little thing too, I’m sorry. Please babe, please don’t die! Somebody help us, please!

Shit, I think that’s the paramedics babe, oh thank god. Hang in there, sweetheart. It’s about time you guys showed up, what the hell! Please, please save her. Yes, I’m her husband. She.. She went into the shop to get some milk and then this guy robbed the place. I’m not really sure what happened but his gun went off or something. No she has no allergies. Please, can I follow in the ambulance?

Baby, hang in there, we’re going to the hospital so everything’s going to be ok. It’s going to be ok…..

Never take life too seriously. Nobody gets out alive anyway.
- Elbert Hubbard