“You make me laugh.” I said to the man, across from me. I imagined the tile floor to where he was sitting to be stinging with cold, and old crumbs.
“Indeed.” He responded. Keeping his head down, creating a perception of a younger man with a slighter frame hiding from his father, then an adult with a crooked smile and a crooked spine. “It’s all relative anyways.” He added, legs crossed and hands folded.
“Yes.” He said, circling an infinity sign amongst the crumbs with his index finger. “This is the way that I was taught, and this is the way that I will teach. So, it’s all relative, if I make you laugh – or if I make you shout.”
I hesitated. Remembering that this was the last conversation I had with him, and this was the last time I could ever draw breath. I only had one but a messily chance of conversation with Enlightenment, although some of us preferred to call him enticement when we are alone, being a whole other identification. “Do I make you laugh?” I decided to finally ask, waiting for a dramatic reply.
He then opened and closed his mouth as if he was confirming his ability to do so. “You make me cry.” He finally said. “Your hopefulness is amusingly tearful and depressing.”
I looked down to him, as I stayed standing. Squinting as if it would benefit my ability to find the right words, but I just ended up noticing all the paint splashes on my overalls – and sneakers that were doodled on with permanent markers around the edges. With laces that were frayed and knotted, a tool for everyone trying to learn how to tie runners. But any amount of squinting would not help me determine what to say next. Enlightenment just kept his head down, and I just kept dramatically sighing. He wasn’t budging, and I was starting to second guess my ability to persuade my inclusion in Enlightenments future teaching projects. He is a stubborn thing, much like myself – but I believe that I am more open to new actions – but maybe that just a creativity trait.
I can admire Enlightenment, he’s everywhere and talks to everyone. Yet, never seems to change. But perhaps that is the reason he has been around so long, he knows how to create preciseness and simplification through mundane processes. And I, like to twirl it all around and see what happens. Even add a bit of glitter to it, if I can.
“Are you afraid that you will be forgotten, Creativity?” He asked in the same motion as he stood up. Towering over the closest mountain tops that were dotted with mountain goats and ants.
His arms stretched from his knees to the sun – making it hesitate as he tapped it lightly with his hand – momentarily casting a shadow over the plain.
“Even if that was the case, Enlightenment. I might be afraid; however, I can help you. Think about it…” I said, stopping before the pitch of my voice resembled my distress. “…we could have creating be so much more. Faster even, or enjoy it more at the very least. We could have it become self-aware and less of a duty.”
“That is not a necessity attribute to this, the system in place doesn’t require it here.”
The system, I smirked. Feeling that sentence slip around my mind. The system, that I am a part of – but has no place for me. Or invisible friends, or blanket forts housed by the back of couches and underneath kitchen tables. The very system that both I and Enlightenment can be a part of, due to our similarities but only one be accepted through lessons. No more lava that covered the floor, or spoonsful of peas turned into tiny airplanes. I am no longer required.
And I could feel my lungs ache and grow stringy, my nose pointed at the sky as I tried to hold my last breath in.
I only got a few.
That is all the system would give me. A few measly breaths to find out that the sun doesn’t always glow from the corner of the page, but indeed sometimes rest in the middle of the picture, and I wasn’t the only one that both liked to draw ants and mountain goats side by side – or maybe I was because this plain is starting to resemble a lot more like my heaven.
I could now feel my stomach expand, trying to fill the space with anything it could. It pushed out with my eyes tearing, and I let out a slight whimper as that is all that I could manage.
I was out of time. I was now breathless. Listening to Enlightenments scratchy tone as he said,
“Farewell Creativity, you will be forgotten here. In this place, with these minds. But you’ll always have their dreams.” As he bent back down into a sitting position. Wrapping his limbs around himself, the entire land shaped to his body.
And he made me laugh.
3 thoughts on “Mountain Goats and Ants”
A very interesting discourse. The dreams of enlightenment, and that creativity is art far from reality.
Exactly! Thank you! Your comment made my day!
I am so glad.
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