Chain of Ages

Once there was a village where babies and kids had to live outside the cave in the sun world. Only when they were old enough could they live in the cave and as each person got older there were deeper caves to live in. The oldest became the blindest of all and craved nothing but darkness and silence. Food and water were passed along to them through the chain of the ages, as they called it. Those who did not follow this order and feared this willful progression toward blindness were threatened with endless wandering and no chain to depend on.

There was a man who disregarded the warning and ran away. He found other villages with other ways of living. He would go from village to village in search of anything new to learn until one day, village after village, had nothing left for him to know. And that is when he realized that he had already entered a cave within himself. And he wondered if his people were right all along and it was he that was foolish not to listen to them.

And when he was older he returned to his home and they were happy to see him again and they let him go as deep in the cave system as his age would allow. And there they fed him something he had never had before. Something held secret by the elders. And new visions appeared within him of not only of villages but worlds he never could have known outside the cave in the sun world.

And when he slipped back into the great fold, as they called dying, he had gone to the deepest cave yet and passed along stories that helped his people deepen their understanding of their chain of ages

12 thoughts on “Chain of Ages”

  1. Peter, I think this story is horrendous! I found it well-written and thought-provoking, even though the images seemed so awful! I agree with what I think is one message of the story. We need to have an inner life. Simply wandering and observing the lives of others is not enough. Did I come close?

    Cheryl

    Liked by 2 people

    1. Yes, that is close with regard to the idea that we often look outside ourselves for what is within. The story is also about understanding the wisdom of those who have come before us and gained insight through deep sacrifices. And sometimes it’s the prodigal son who can come to the greatest understanding of all due to the ironic position of having to experience the outer world to a more extreme degree in order to make sense of the inner one. Also, it’s an analogy for a writer who must go beyond the reactionary evaluations of the surface world in order to get to the thoughts that resonate with more meaning – no matter how disagreeable they might be. That being said, whatever the story means to the reader is of equal significance from my perspective so I thank you for your patience and response! πŸ„πŸ™πŸ„

      Liked by 2 people

  2. Sorry if this is a bit much for a comment… it’s a poetic reflective thingy I scribbled a while back that resurfaced in the wake of reading your piece…

    I seem to have spent the best moments of my life writing you.

    I am an archive now, handwritten in you –

    a spellbound moon,
    orbiting the beacon lights of your heart,

    or a wayward star,
    an echo of all those little galaxies we used to ride,
    back when small getaways were a thing…

    back when the Universe was just a touch and a whisper away…

    and you were the shores.

    I am a smoke stack now,
    a deep sea chimney,
    melting gemstones beneath the tides –
    feeding on your warmth as the core grows cold.

    I am frayed now –

    frayed and worn,
    just as you were,
    by all those harsh and killing things
    the world has whittled in our eyes –

    looking always to you,
    the champion of paper aeroplanes,
    to stitch back the thermals and weave back my wings.

    I’m a deep sea chimney,
    billowing stars,
    watching them float into cloudlight and space fish…

    watching our stories get eaten,
    tangled in margins,
    crumpled like shells…

    watching an army of throwaway doodles
    blot out your smile,
    gun down my hope
    and then despise me for losing your kindness.

    I am an echo of starships and you,

    wondering why our victory has been stolen
    by a world that always twists our tides
    and wants us to live them the wrong way round.

    Liked by 1 person

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