Just another story

This is not a song, so shut up.

This is not a rap, so don't try.

This is just a story. So drop the beat and try to keep up.

Stories are full of loyalties. The best love stories reek with Love. Stories of triumph are always so compelling. Stories of losses are always so meaningful. While redemption stories are always so uplifting.

Why do you think that's true?
They're stories.

Once upon a time in a land we're wishful thinking was all that was thought. Their lived many who did not think the group thought. They were seen and they were talked about. But they were not part of the group.

Give me your unwashed of humanity, yearning to be free. Never knowing if it was free to be wishful or to truly see. But never questioning, to be yearning.

Close your eyes and come join us! The masses called to the many. Don't think about it, do as you were taught and be happy! Pleaded the masses to the many. But while ignorance can bring pain it also inoculates the masses from other pains.

The many walk and sometimes stumble. Some blinded in gibberish by the things that they've seen. Some catatonic from the things that they think. Most in pain from the loss of their ignorance.

Is that where God lives? Inbetween the groups. Is that the wasteland that one must travel to get from one group to another? What do you lose when you travel between the gulf that separates the dimensions? Even the many do not know and therein lies the pain. The masses just never think to see it.

Love her? What do I know of love?

From within the crowd of many one screams out and steps forward!

What do I know of love!? I have never seen it locked in service with the many. Toil, toil is all I've ever known. Work and strife with my head down only chancing to dare to look up.
What do I know of what I've never felt to me? Do I know the sound of the whip? Do I know the sound of the mud against my shoes? Do I know the sound of clouds and dreary? What I know of love I know of a dream. What I know of her I know of a fantasy. What I know of me is a desire.

One man inside a crowd of many. Speaking through the veil of dimensions to the masses. Shackled and chained. Held fast to his place, his reality.

What do I know of love? Love her? Will it free me? Will she? Can I be freed? Will she love me chained? Is love what will lift me and make me clean? Will it make me whole? Will I walk from the crowd of many into the arms of the masses? Will it free me from the fear of hope? Show me the answer! Show me the answer and I will love her! I will love her with the intensity of the chains that now bind me to this reality.

A silence. A pause. Someone is listening. Not the masses. Not the many. But like any other prayer it permeates the gap. Someone is listening.

To be free of these chains. To be free of the many. I'd bend worlds. Tame the wastelands. Plead my case to the very God of creation! Love her?! What do I know of love?! Give me what you know of love! I shall shake the heavens! Give her to me as a shield and I will remake all realities with this love! Till then ask not of me, Do I love her. What do I know of love?
I would fight free of it all! Is this your love? Is this what I feel for her? The freedom from the many? The joy of the light? The purpose? The absence of pain? What say you? Then say I! Her, I know not. Love, I have never been given. Do I? Through the depths of hell. Higher than the heavens. Yes!!!!!

Stepping back into the crowd of many. Piece spoken to the only one who listens. Back to the toil, back to the in's and outs of what is life in this reality for the many. Story told. Back to the pain.
Wishful thinking of a rhyme or reason is just that. A dream to dream on lonely nights.

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"Win the crowd and you will win your freedom." "I will win the crowd. I will show them something that they've never seen before." ~ Gladiator