The Man in the Mud

The Wind whipped and danced around the lonely soul, still and sombre with shoulder hunched

Standing in the gluggy mud with a hollow stare upon his face, dispar and death wash over him

At the edge of the ancient brick well, tattered, beaten left forgotten. A mirror of the man in the mud

Dreaming of falling, plummeting, descending into the dark abyss before him

What do I have to live for?

Who is there to care?

I’ve created an abomination already.

And the fall is but a dare.

The Storm around him deepens, and the tempest begins to roar with thunder.

Hope of the man standing in mud began to diminish as the rain falls heavy around him soaking into his core.

With little effort he raised a leg and on the edge he stood all his weight bearing down on the weakening brick.

Beneath his feet it shuddered with the use, and crumbs tumble into the hole, bit by bit it beings to break.

You are young; you have your life to live.

A voice resounded in his head

I love you; Don’t you understand it is you I adore?

Run into my arms, so I can hold you once more.

The battle above him rages, as lightning splits the sky, the clouds are fierce and angry, the battle that resides

The man does not know of the lies and truths filling the air around him, wielding unseen weapons of deceit and Love

They do not fight for land, power or money, but the decision the man will make; fall, or keep on living.

There battle is violent and relentless, neither side wanting to concede, both with different motives, one of love the other of greed.

You are week and worthless

You are honest and loyal

You are a lair and a cheat

You are Mine and I love you

Blows are ravaging his thoughts, comments on this goodness and love he doesn’t understand,

Attacks of misery and pain he knows all to well, Confusion sieges upon his mind

Claws digging deep into his spine edging him closer, the pain of living, reminding him of what he was.

A wall of warmth and light and peace holding him from plunging into the deep. A comforting embrace of what he could be

I can Survive, I can right my Wrongs.

No you can’t your too far gone.

Nothing is too big for me and my new friend.

NO this is not happening, it’s is suppose to be the end!

The bleakness above gives way as the man ponders on what he’s just heard, what he told himself, what he believes.

The Howling wind begins to slow, as he comes to grip with what he’s worth, The torrential downpour resides to a drizzle as the sky starts to clear.

The man takes a step back off the edge of the well, as the wall crumble and caves, bricks and mortar tumbling to the swampy bottom with a sick splash.

How the man smiles as the weight of his sin is lifted away, he now stands tall, alive and ready, the man standing on the clay.

As he turns to leave the dreadful place,

Light streams upon his face.

Following the thick cloud that ebbs away,

That swirling mass of disarray,

Off so he can help some lonely new prey.