The sage atop a snowy peak freezes in the endorsement of enlightenment. He froze his blood blue and he froze his nose pink, his toes were black and ready to disembark on a journey detached from his transcendent thoughts. He froze time as well because time was cryogenically relative to civilization and the only wise words he heard was the bleating of a mountain goat.
The wind picked up speed which formed a low pressure in the atmosphere in which he was enclosed. His parched eyes were ready to pop out from his sockets, ready to fall in line with his toes. The incline would make them travel farther than his toes might drop off. Rolling down further down to the chasm, his eye-balls would serve a tempting ready-to-eat fast food snack for a hungry pack of wolves. The mountain goat was the main course.
His skin had leather like gleam and his mammary papilla was hard as a diamond cutters tools. He was not in one with nature though; he realized this as he could not hibernate. His stomach growled with hunger. It had already digested the butterflies he had nourished a few hours ago. His concentration strewn, he robotically reached in his bag, and as his elbows creaked, the punishing grinding of gears in his joints, his fingers sent vague signals to his numb yet semi-enlightened receptors in his brains.
“Are those my testicles?” he pondered. His body was numb, at certain places. He mustered enough courage to withdraw his hand, with the fruit on the tips of his fingers, as he finally he realized that his testicles could not have possibly walked to his satchel.
He opened his icicle infested eyes and as he lost his eye-lashes in the process he noticed he was holding a peach, frozen hard as a rock like those lay beside him. The dogs that now stopped growling started howling. And he knew his stomach was close to his balls and he could not afford to “release the hounds”.
He took one bite of the frozen delight and swallowed his teeth. He could feel the warmth of the blood inside his mouth. It is difficult to find an analogy to describe what he felt, but “parting is such sweet sorrow”.
With the dogs neutered, he sat there. He sat wondering. Why? Then it hit him. Like a clap of thunder that would make a cat jump. A single bolt of lightening strayed across the brazen sky and toasted him. He was done. He fell, buttered side down. His heart beat a faint beat like a slow ballad barren of love. He looked up to the heavens and raised his voice, with his fist wallowing, he shrieked “Aaaaargh! That hurt!” Looked left and right as if crossing the street, paused for applause and sat down cross legged.
With one eye in the sky and the other one waiting to fall off, he felt the warmth in his body. His body was a prison he felt. A prison for all his desires and he needed liberation or enlightenment, whichever came first. But he eventually decided he needed to urinate the little ice cubes that were forming in his bladder first. He passed the elephant through the needles eye and then there was a moment. A surreal moment of peace and tranquility surged through his body. He had done it, he thought. He was there. Atop a peak, one with nature, one with himself and life itself thereabouts round the corner.
It was a long and onerous journey uphill. He stomped and he grazed without a faintest idea that he may resemble a goat. His beard and long hair were his ever increasing constant companions. A flow, a pattern emerged. The pointed end of his beard resembled a compass which directed his senile pleas to march towards the opposite direction. He had left it all behind, people and their social ineptitude. He had met a donkey on the way to the stony pass which led to the foothills of the mountain. He had gazed into the stubborn eyes of the lazy beast. The sage said, in the most childlike eager tone, although laden with a bit of subtlety, “Hello”. The donkey mustered up its head, away from the desolate ground below, where it had its vision fixated in a magnifying point of deep thought. “Hrrrmph! Hee Haw!” it answered. As if to say, “Hee Haw”. They looked at each other like they were a separated military unit lost during the peak of a civil war, looking at each other in an untrustworthy manner, trying to figure who was the one who was brainwashed. Then the donkey, without any indication, turned his head away, like a scorned lover trying to hide its embarrassment.
Incomplete...
