I know the sea. I know their names. I know where the water run still and deep. And I know where the ship will run aground. I know my crew; their strength, their weakness, their loyalty. I know what they feel when the colors are hoisted. I know where their faith is.
I know which route to take. I know which way the winds blow. I know how long it will take to see land again. And I know what will be waiting when we get there. I know when to raise the sails, yes, when to raise the top-gallants; and when to bring them in. I know which storms the ship can brave, and the ones it can’t.
I know the exact point to start turning the rudder; to bring the ship about in an offensive, yet defensive position. I know my ship has 100 guns. And I know their reach, their strength, their destructive force when fired at just the right range. I know that a missed shot puts you in danger. And a well placed one can still put you in danger.
I know the speed of my ship. I know when to chase, and when to retreat. I know how to lie in wait, how to hide my ship in plain sight, and the exact moment to make my move.
I know, in all my knowing how capture a ship. I know every maneuver there is, every order of steps, what it takes for sure success. I have proven them. And I know them like I know my own name.
I know, however.
That 100 successes does not guarantee the 101st. That doing something 1000 times does not guarantee you won’t screw up the 1000 and 1st. I know how absurd it is; that you can know all there is to know, but without execution it makes no difference. I know, how even more absurd it is, that you can know everything, and do everything right; and still fall short at the end.
I know of the unknown. But it’s still unknown. I know it can be crippling, as well as thrilling at the same time.
*If you can make this up, you’re good. May be confusing.
Alone. Dark. Cold. Silence. No life; no flora no fauna…just him. The pestering he loved was gone. So were those who needed help. And the heartbroken too. The world grew larger, or so he thought. And so he gathered the little strength he had and stood up. Started walking towards the faint light ahead.
He approaches. It leads to a dimly lit corridor. On the walls, posters. Banners. Graffiti tattooed all over with his name in context. For all the wrong reasons. “MIA”. “Buster”. “Liar”. “Cheat”. “Loser”. “Trash”. “Waste of space”.A god of his kind had been reduced to nought. With no explanation; no reason; no cause. He had become average. He walks down the Hall of Shame in disbelief..
He gets to a door. He opens it. Bright light stuns him. Headache. His eyes adjust. The world at large; more splendid than before; full of life and vigour..but he is sad. He’s right in the midst of the human traffic. But he’s invisible. No one sees him. Even they that badly needed him; that depended on him for survival…that bond was savoured. He gets slighty happy when a man knocks him and he and falls to the dirt. And when he gets up, he makes up the sign the man hung on his neck. “Free hugs”. He needed someone to realise him. Nil. He hates the world. His work is done. He figured it was time for him to die. That solitude. That feeling of being unwanted; invisible; “a waste of space” was unbearable. No one to care; no one to be cared for. No one to love, no one to be loved by. “Why am I here?” “If the world is already a better place, then what’s my purpose for living?” And he decides that he might be of use in the afterlife, for the world no longer needs him.
But he wakes up. From the nightmare. Sweating. His aching head feels twice the size. And so does his heart. Another chance to prove his worth. And so he goes forth, burning with the flame of youth, broad minded and open hearted. For he’s still scared…but he knows what he must do.
The price of being a genius