The Kingdom of Sand

Exasperated as he was, his conviction willed him to move on. The individual footsteps which he
left imprinted onto the sand behind him, marking his journey so that those hundreds even
thousands of years into the future would be able to record, analyze, and celebrate, had taken the
form of a serpent. It was some time ago that each step lost its individual-ness, instead merging to
become a single continuous motion, perfected in its efficiency. The act by now had been firmly
ingrained into his character. His life had become a series of steps each one bringing him closer to
the eternal. One step at a time.

When he looked out into the kingdom, its scale overwhelmed him with a sense of defeat. The
man trudged along mechanically as if he was programmed to trek through its domain. The inner
voice that he conversed with in his head was dead. For the moment, his mind was free from the
burden of thinking. It was only perceiving. Below him was sand and above him was sky. The
man was growing restless but he kept going.

Trusting his intuition hasn't always helped him before. After all, if the blame was going to be
placed on anybody it would only be placed on him.

But there was no one around to do the judging and the man refused to blame himself. He
promised to make peace with whatever destiny has in store for him. Common sense was to be
ignored when his intuition led him elsewhere. He didn't feel like he had a choice anyway. A slave
to his will.

Even more so, a slave which belonged to this kingdom, as did everything else in his world. A
kingdom with no landmarks. A perfectly flat kingdom, devoid of any imperfections, and
completely uniform in its appearance. There were no fluctuations in the altitude of the sand or
dunes he would be able to climb and see the progress he had made. There were no natural land
structures scattered to break up the dullness of the landscape. No dips and peaks dispersed
throughout to offer a change of pace. Everything always remained completely still. The light
breeze that danced around the pebbles of sand and past the man's body made a conscious effort to
avoid any contact, in fear of something actually changing. Although, the wind wasn't strong
enough to blow the sand it was strong enough for the man to feel.

When his eyes weren't on the horizon eagerly awaiting a reward for his efforts, they were on his
legs and the ground. Each footprint slowly changed the character of the sand. Billions of particles
of sand inhabited this kingdom each with their own set of unique qualities yet they might as well
have been completely indistinguishable from one another. Each pebble of sand was sized
differently than the others, even if the difference was only perceivable on the smallest scales of
the universe. Each one was shaped differently. A shape to call their own. Some of them would
have a flattened edge or a corner prematurely cut off. A minor imperfection here and there. No
two grains of sand were the same. Such variety and diversity within the kingdom! Unfortunately,
the man only saw a desert and not the grains of sand themselves.

these tiny grains made up the behemoth that is this desert stretching into every cardinal direction
seemingly as much as the universe itself and not a single one of those individual grains was
essential to the whole. Remove one, a few, or even many and the kingdom is still as grand and
majestic as it was before. It doesn't need and isn't defined by a few grains of sand. Yet, there
must be a certain point where the number of grains make a difference. Where if those grains of
sand were to disappear or be removed or wiped from existence the kingdom would not be as
majestic.

Periodically, an upward swing in the temperature of the desert came without warning. It was
strange because it suggested a change must have occurred to produce this heat. Nothing ever
changed within the kingdom of sand. But more importantly to the man, nothing ever seemed to
move. Everything was frustratingly stuck in its place. The thought of whether his own physical
body was moving through three dimensional space crept into the void of his mind, producing a
peculiar form of terror. The kingdom stubbornly refused to offer any definitive proof that he
would get anywhere. It was the will of the land, and it was not to be defied. Fortunately, the man
was equipped with a stubbornness that rivaled the kingdom’s.

So he tried his best to assimilate into what became his new home. He knew he couldn't force it.
He didn't feel like he was a part of this world but an outside observer looking inwards into the
inner nature of everything around him, peeking behind the curtains, overhearing the whispers of
the desert he wasn't supposed to hear. Who was he anyway, who dared to step through the gates
of the kingdom? At any moment he could get caught and humiliatingly exposed. He knew he
didn't belong here. This was a world made for others cut from a different cloth.

As he continued onward, he developed an intimate relationship with his only companion along
this journey – solitude. They both knew each other so well. He became familiar with what it was
like to have it constantly by his side, attached to him like a needy lover looking over his every
move. Their relationship like all relationships had eventually ran its course. Its overwhelming
presence was suffocating him under the vast sky of the kingdom.

Given his situation, it was fortunate the man was gifted with an untamed imagination. Like a true
human, he told himself stories. He imagined himself as being stuck in a painting. The backdrop
always remained the same, and it was just as the painter had intended for it to be. He felt he was
at the mercy of the painter. Something would only change when the painter decided, ​No this will
not do​, and then he would pick up his brush and correct the mistake to his liking. He was just a
figure, painted onto a flat canvas, lacking any real depth or say in his actions. His free will was a
cleverly crafted illusion. His choices were two doors that lead to the same room. Two paths that
lead to the same trail. Forks in the road that diverted his attention, their only purpose to serve as a
form of escapism, that would eventually lead him back to the same industrialized,
commercialized and commoditized broad street that everybody else in town used. This was what
the painter intended the man to be. Someone to be sacrificed to this behemoth of a desert only to
prove a point to whoever marveled in its direction. This was the perfect image the painter
manifested onto his canvas.
Occasionally the man would look up at the sky, just as so many of his ancestors had done before
him when they looked for inspiration and wondered about their place in the heavens. He too,
would have formed these thoughts, gazing at the stars and the infinite expanse of space which
was weighing down on him, if his mind were not preoccupied with the concept of movement and
motion. They were both alien concepts in this world. It was for this reason he developed an
admiration for the objects above him and their trajectories across the sky. His fascination was
particularly focused on the sun. Together, they were the only things constantly in motion during
the day. They were the only sources of movement in this world. Not a day went by when the sun
didn't cross the sky from one end of the horizon to the other and not a day went by when the man
didn’t cross the desert from his resting point to another. He knew exactly what to expect from it
each and every day. He admired its reliability. The man could count on the sun but the sun was
not a part of this world. It was out​ there.

His world, the kingdom, was stubbornly wedged into its place incapable of progressing.
Although not because it was incapable of ever becoming anything other than a desert. The
potential was there but it needed a catalyst. Either someone needed to be inspired by it enough
that it'd convince them of its potential, or something needed to occur which would encourage it to
grow towards a certain direction. Deserts have transformed into grasslands, and then into forests,
and so on, increasing their complexity gradually, becoming something greater than their original
selves. The opposite was also true.

But this idea of movement in his own world had gotten progressively worse for his psyche. How
could he be sure he was ever getting anywhere when the world refused to give him any
feedback? He felt the energy he exerted but that was something only he could perceive himself.
An unfortunate fact was that no one would be able to fully appreciate his journey and his
experience could only ever be conveyed through words or symbols which unfortunately are just
that. A representation of a truth or reality but not the actual truth itself. Similar to how a still-life
painting of a scene is not the actual scene itself but a human attempt to express that scene through
the selected medium. A number of minor details which bring life to the scene would become lost
through its re-creation.

Ultimately, for all the walking he had done, he also had nothing to show for it. He couldn't find
any proof that he was actually moving except within himself. The desert had left its mark. There
was no around to witness his struggle. There was no one around to record his existence or
acknowledge his suffering. The desert remained the same forever, as did the sky, as did the
individual grains of sand, as did the occasional gust of wind, as did the exhausting temperature,
as did the arid air that parched his lungs.

Entering the kingdom stripped him of anything he would be able to identify himself with. With
no one to compare himself to, the man became a gaseous element, filling whatever container his
mind created. Within this kingdom he could become anything. So he became an androgynous
being, a reincarnation of the baphomet, summoned to dwell within its confines. Then he became
a butterfly, shedding the remains of his cocoon and sprouting his newly developed wings. He
became a fish, swimming through the bottom of the dry ocean floor, and a bird flying past the
ground below him, towards the nest he had built. Descending from the sky, home of the sun and
stars, he was manifested on to Earth, in this desert, to stand as a monument to all which was
possible in this realm of existence. He didn't want to be a human anymore. He wanted to
transcend his existence and become a spirit or an idea. Identifiable yet also indefinite in his
nature. A physical manifestation of an ideal that other people would be able to look at and
immediately understand. He decided he wasn't his physical body. The body that his mind or soul
used as a vessel to traverse and experience this world was not who he​ really was.​ Life couldn't be
as simple as existing could it? Life couldn't be a meaningless endeavor for those who ponder it,
living for the sake of living, suffering for the sake of suffering, dying for the sake of dying. There
had to be something more. The man's will had commanded him to convince himself. His life
needed to be more than this and he refused to believe otherwise.
humans have found meaning in the most intense moments of suffering and he was no different.
His desire to continue living was his own decision. He was both the marble and the sculptor
carving the final monument which would stand as a representation of his life. Equipped with
nothing but a chisel and hammer, he was ridding the excess and only keeping what he himself
was satisfied with because the man had long ago refused the comforts of an ordinary life. He
figured that all paths in life lead to the same place – nowhere. The only thing that mattered was
if the path had heart. If the path he'd chosen was right for him and brought satisfaction to his life.
The man had chosen the path he wished to take. He tried as many different paths as was
necessary to find the one that was most fitting towards his happiness. He tested it, and when he
was sure, adhered to its trail, and devoted his unwavering faith towards completing and seeing it
towards the end.

He understood that whatever the path had in store for him was hidden under a veil of secrecy. He
hoped to be able to one day reach towards the veil, snatch it with his hands, and burn it in a grand
spectacle. The veil was to be removed but there was no hope of ever reaching it. The veil was
always too far away just out of arm's reach. For the time being, he only partially accepted this
reality. Fully immersed into the present yet he still yearned for the possibilities of the future.
Longing for a time which never comes. The sun must have admired his conviction.

Eventually he would reach a point where the physical limitations of his body would prevent him
from going any further. The reality of the physical world challenged his determination. The
kingdom punished him for defying its will, mocking him for thinking he was anything other than
a human. There was no hope of ever getting anywhere. There was no hope of ever finding
tangible proof that his effort was ultimately worthwhile. He looked down at his legs. His left leg
stomped the ground while he lifted his right leg and placed it in front of the left. He saw his legs
moving. He was sure of it. But he never got anywhere. He was stuck on an infinitely looped
treadmill. The endlessly flat terrain took its toll on his body. His physical energy was gone and
with it his determination went too. The man could delude himself into his fantasies but he could
not delude himself into thinking he was anything other than a human. He thought to himself that
it would make no difference if he gave up now or decided to continue going. No matter how far
he went he would always be in the same place as he was now. He finally stopped walking and sat
down.

The man looked around. The sand and sky felt perpetually foreign to him. His senses had become
fully accustomed to perceiving the world in the context of this kingdom. When he first set out to
this journey, his mind interpreted the sand and sky as being their own separate entities. Now they
were also merged into one, bounded by the invisible chains of the horizon with the boundary
between where one began and the other ended blurred. He was fully engulfed into this world, one
half of it being sky and the other half desert. Together they made up the whole. The oneness that
was this kingdom. Everything was intricately intertwined in just the perfect way. Everything was
indistinguishable from everything else. He decided that the physical appearance of matter was
nothing but a trick played on him by his brain. Energy was all there was. A constant flow of
energy taking different forms and vibrating at a certain frequency, revealing itself as either a
solid, liquid, or gas. He was looking at the desert for the very first time in every single moment
that passed. He couldn't recognize the sand and sky anymore. They were familiar yet so strange
at the same time. The man stared out at the kingdom soaking in its essence through his eyes,
experiencing all there was to experience.

He grabbed a pile of sand with his hand letting it fall off his palm and beneath the crevices of his
fingers. It reminded him of an hourglass. How there would come a day where there wasn't
anymore sand left and his time in the kingdom would be done. Where he would be able to feel
like his effort was worthwhile. Where the path to the veil would end. Where he wouldn't have to
worry about deserts, or staying alive, or about what it meant to be alive. Observing his hands, and
feet, he felt like his self had abandoned them. There was a sense of disconnectedness between his
body and mind as if he was leaving behind what once belonged to him. This wasn't a voluntary
gesture, but he welcomed the foreign sensation.
Once again he looked out into the horizon. The sun was casting its rays, illuminating the entire
kingdom for him to witness in its total enormity. The impossibly flat terrain where not a single
grain of sand rose further above than the others. A new sensation overcame his eyes, once again
changing his perception of the world. He looked at the tan, yellowish brown color of the sand and
began admiring it just as he did with the sun. The various shades of color which made up the
desert came to life. The color was practically popping out of the particles of sand ready to be
grabbed by the man. He stared at it with a deep fascination. The colors were so intense and
vibrantly rich. How had he not noticed the beauty of the colors contained within each object,
each deserving of attention, each capturing the spirit of the universe within themselves. The sand
was beautiful and so impossibly complex in its detail. Every grain was perfect in its essence and
all of these perfect grains of sand came together to form this vast desert, its total size being
incomprehensible to the man. He no longer felt the desire to continue walking, nor the desire to
continue worrying. The man was perfectly content in being here, in this exact moment in time, in
this exact location in space, simply admiring all that was around him. He looked up. The light
blue of the sky was just as majestic as the sand. It enraptured him, his eyes like magnets being
pulled towards the colors of the world around him. He laid down now, arms and legs spread out
looking up at the sky.

Once again he found himself staring out at the infinite expanse of space that existed outside of
his world. The sun was slowly beginning to make its daily descent under the horizon. He thought
of how the sun moved through the sky uninterrupted by the mundane happenings on Earth. It was
an independent force of nature. The sun didn't rely on Earth, on the man, or anything else for it to
orbit throughout the universe and complete its mission – the unspoken, unwritten mission it was
given when the universe was first set into motion. It reminded him of himself. He wondered if
the sun traversing through the boundless universe ever felt like it was moving. The other stars
were far away enough that it would seem to the sun like it was never getting anywhere.

The man closed his eyes. Slowly, his mind became quiet. Slowly, his body embraced the desert's
stillness as he laid motionless. As the last gasps of sunlight disappeared over the horizon, the
moon sprang forth from the womb of the night sky. The galaxies and stars revealed themselves
once again. Eons away from elsewhere in that moment he saw himself.
The ecstasy overcame his body. There he went. Merged. Dissolved. Nothingness. And then
Everything. The Universe. Feel. What is a feeling anyway? Real? Transcend and Manifest. Over
​ here. Sun, Desert, Sky, ​and ​Man. Euphoria. Dread.
and over again. You? That? Here ​and T
Emotions ​and ​Numbness. Visualize. Consciousness. Human condition or limits? Discipline and
Willpower? What was this? Hysterical reactions? Absurdity. Or Evolution? His brain, his being.
One. None. Both. He was Disappearing. Annihilation and then Rebirth. Rapture ​and ​Hell.
Divine, Man, ​and ​Beast. All ​and N
​ one.

Om. Om. Om. Om.

Hallucinations? Crowning Pharaohs. The Whispers of Adam and Eve. Echos. A Phoenix. Was
he Rising? Clever Illusions? Through Space and Matter. Water and Fire. Ether. Atoms and
Energy. Through Planets and Stars. Black Holes and Quasars. Nebula and Neurons. With Ra.
With Hermes Trismegistus and his Emerald Tablet. Through the Halls of Amenti. Like
Electricity. The speed of light. Human condition or limits?

The man reached out into the nth dimension and grabbed the painter's brush while he was
finishing the final stroke of his desert. The man said to the painter,​ No this will not do.