Thur 23rd Nov, 2876
On board Deep-Space mining vessel 'Aluvium' : transporter of heretics to farthest reaches of the Galaxy
LONG JOURNEYS are not good for the soul. Too much idle time to wander and pick clean the shores of one's history. There is the physical discomfort aboard a sailing vessel too. The cramp space, the humdrum life, the sickness, the pickled beef and briny stews that you can barely chew (so you add vinegar to soften the tendons), the chaffing of heads, the endless-seamless-monotonous sea of stars, the wasting of muscles, and of course a constant reminder of what you have left behind and the uncertainty of what’s to come…life is strange. Could it be any stranger?
In the olden days, mighty wooden vessels; creaking and tossing, would ply across the seas so wide, their sails catching the winds, winds that would fling em' from pole to pole, from place to place. Places barely imaginable – places you never new existed other than inside a madman's skull. And all for what? For bounty, for truth, for God and for glory. What’s in the heart of these men that journey through strife unimaginable by others left behind?
There are those whose hearts are greedy; whose sole reason to endure such things is aggrandizement; to quench that bottomless sink in their hearts. Can such hearts be quenched? Is there a fixed quantity of drinking from the cup of 'want' that such hearts will suddenly say: my thirst is quenched, I lay down my cup, I am done! Can that be possible? But those of us who know the true nature of want, and I lay stress here on true, can categorically say that there is no quenching the hearts of these sorts. For the oceans and lands are endless and men’s desires grow with the horizon as it expands its belt.
There is another type aboard. A more noble type one might say; though this is my own opinion and I lay it down here. A type not fooled by wants and greed’s; though this type does not in the least show disdain for his unpalatable shipmates. For he knows that men are simple beasts though they may think themselves exalted by god’s grace – Ha! God’s grace! He laughs! Such a man does not in his heart at least entertain a disdain for these sorts, for deep down, he knows nay very well understands the forces at play in the game of destinies. For we are all touched by the same gravities.
Such a man then, so opposite in character to his shipmates, nonetheless is aboard this ship, but what drives this man; what is the nature of the devil that shovels coals into his inner furnace. And by god! It is a furnace! If ye could only see and feel it. A mighty roaring fire of licking flames that bellows soot and such stuff, and yet, there it burns and there it remains in such a man. There is grief there. For I have seen it and felt its fiery temper. An endless well of grief that stamps its hooves and smokes its nostrils and threatens to overwhelm, yet through some miraculous act of Providence, it remains pacified. Yes, there is passion, deep seething passion inside such a man – but tempered by the hand of a rational kind and the gentle winds of the dust clouds that blow astern. But do not let the outwardly countenance of such a man make you think that he is not driven. There is conflict in him, an unreconciled conflict that cannot be appeased by anything on this world but by something far away, beyond reckoning.
He has been forsaken...a heretic. But how far can you be cast and for how long; for life is a sphere and you will always end up from whence you started. We all do. We travel but only in our minds. The only real travelling we do is birth to death. And even that is a mere flicker in the expanse of cosmic everything.
They didn't want him...a heretic. We are all born of the same earth and breathe the same air and sleep under the same stars. Can someone truly say that you do not belong? Are we not all made from the very same star dust? Am I not deserving!
Alas, I have given myself away. My name is Yakoob. And I am a heretic.
This is my confession:
(To be continued)
