And so began the perfect wedding for the man’s son. A house filled with desire and expectations but a yearning for love and protection. A confused mess.
A son who left and returned with an axe. A cracking in half yet a relentless repair. The son tore himself apart to the keep his house together.
By God’s good graces the house began to fit together again. He had been through his trials by fire, sometimes you may pass a test but the costs you pay to achieve it mean that you fail at everything else. Sometimes the man who hurts himself to succeed guarantees failure in an emergency, he misses the point, sometimes the man who’s desperate to impress fails when it counts, sometimes he isn’t prepared, it’s the free man who often helps in a time like this.
The man’s son set up his wedding in his village. He paid and invited for his friends to come visit.
3 goats to feed guests and his village, a centre stage and speaker for everyone to wrestle, dance and sing till the morn, the festivities never stopped, the next day they all slept, men with wives, children in fields, the father with the sons mother after 5 years, the son with his wife, he drove off to the hills to fuck his bride, gun in holster, wolf in the van, first aid kit and anti venom at hand, a warrior was conceived this morn.
15 years later their lives have returned, a man ploughs his field and runs his business online. A woman teaches a child in the village and creates her clothes for the celebrities in his country.
Their child an animal, destined to die young at the hands of Allah, they only pray that he die pure, never to impress just with the general cycles of life. Sensitive to the smells of bears, mind sharp, they only hope nature take him, not himself, indirect suicide through lack of seriousness, that’s all they prayed for. Then they laughed at the futility of such fears.
A trip booked to risk their own lives, not to impress others, but not to avoid letting them down either, they kiss their sons head as he sleeps, a warrior is born, there’s nothing for them to do, the arrow is shot and Allah is in charge, this is the way, this is the path, this is the truth, a son, on his own, cooking and killing for two weeks, lavishing his life, a man born free, a chill pure.
15 years later this young boy is getting married. He rides his train with his beloved, wrapped in the most formal attire as the mothers of the couple wave goodbye. Freedom, a perfect affair, a marriage from the heavens from the earth, this was the story told by Allah, a bloodline so pure nothing was unimportant, we are born wild and free, my bloodline is perfect, sullied in a way, yet the roar of the khan is still with him, the clap of the Huns and the fear of Adam from the fall still in me, the shame of eve on my face as I roar and relent, fuck you Allah, as the relief of Jesus comes in me.
Lao Zu and the bhudda, free winds far from my horrors, still in the face of my reality.
This is the story of my people, absolutely perfect, this is what we are gonna do, say something, I double dare you.
