In the kingdom of gods, all dressed as demons, there dwelled a young boy, Samuel.
Born in this kingdom, as all, naive and puerile, he too was an empty pot, of minimal knowledge, of nothing to weigh him down.
Like every other novice, he too relished the beginning of his journey into this world with the morning sun, the flowing streams and the scent of the sea. All he knew then, was of joy.
Having no desire for the future, no cords for the past, he was free. But this kingdom, known to criticise empty pots, would soon fill him.
And as he grew, he came to know of reasons, reasons for why the leaf was green, for why the sun came with light, of limits, of dimensions, he came to know of wars, of thrones, he kept on accumulating stones, as the blank spaces of wonder disappeared.
And as he grew older to know of every myth, this world uses to cover its scars, a wailing grew inside him. A cry so abysmal, that made him crave the contentment of empty pots, a cry that made him insomniac.
He ought to live with it, but how could he not hear his own voices? His voices that kept on disrupting him. He had to find a cure.
He set out into this world, the same world which had given him these cries, to ask of its cure.
He walked, and walked all the paths known to man, the wailing along with him. Growing more and more profound every moment.
With the voices in his head, he could not see, he could not think straight. The wailing blinded him, because of the deafening cries.
His face reflecting every bit of his sorrow.
As he passed the church at the core of the kingdom, he met a man dressed in gold linen robes. He asked Samuel of his frown. Samuel narrated him the story of his wailing.
The man, happened to be known by this world as religious. With all of the kindness of a pure heart and the face of repressed desires covered by the mask of peace, this man gave him the ways of candles, of garlands, of pilgrims, of every way preached by the priests.
Samuel, as he set out into this journey ought to try everything it implied. Of every path it showed, of every end it offered. As he did, he didn't hear his cries dying, instead they kept troubling him, the same, the screeches deafening him.
He realised that no amount of work on the outside can change anything on a different plane, no amount of tantrums on the outside, can silence the voices within. Just like painting a tree red, doesn't change its colour.
Samuel, exhausted and puffed by the wailing, walked by the villages to find an old lady by a shabby hut, who offered him water and fruits. She looked at him with iridescent eyes, under her mask of kindness, the face of broken dreams and shattered desires.
She asked him of the reason of his exhaustion, he told her the vain of his wailing.
The old lady, with sedate words, gave him the ways of serving the needy, of the greatness of humanity, of the art of giving.
A man, thirsty, needs to look into every well for water. As Samuel had to walk on this path too.
He found this path to be curative, but he could not silence the voices for eternity, they kept coming back to him, because he realised that this kind of bliss came attached to a reason and with the disappearance of the reason, the joy disappeared too.
The wailing growing more and more louder, deafening and blinding Samuel.
He met a man, by the library, in plain robes, wearing a face of ignorance behind his mask of knowledge, who was known to this world as learned.
Seeing the state of Samuel, he asked him of his reason, as Samuel told him of his wailing, he gave him the ways of feeding his mind, of reading, of words.
And as he did, he read books and books of words, he kept on accumulating more and more rocks in his pot, more and more words, hollow words, without any experience. And as he did, the wailing grew more and more louder.
As Samuel reached the outskirts of the dimensional world, he found a madman, with shattered robes and an enchanted face, talking to a tree.
For once and all he seemed like the man without any masks, and as Samuel approached him, he stopped talking, looked at him with dazzling eyes and asked,
"Why are you sobbing so hard?"
Samuel, baffled, asked him
"How can you hear something no one else can?"
"Everyone cries" the man replied "Everyone knows their cries and they don't hear anything except it, their own cries drown the voices of others."
"But they never told me about their voices."
"They are scared, scared by this very own world that it might see the face behind the mask."
" I'm troubled by these cries, I keep on asking those people and they give me ways, ways that just make the voices grow louder."
" You know of your cries, you know of your muddles and yet you ask everyone except yourself for the remedies."
"But I've always been taught to turn to my folks in hard times." Said Samuel, disgruntled.
"You like every other being has been brought up by the world, and you unknowingly accept everything taught to you by it. But remember, to survive in a world which benefits from self-doubts, you have to bring yourself up, you cannot rely on any other truth, create your own, because that's the only thing that'll root for you."
"You can help me. Help me, my lord or else these voices will drive me insane." Samuel said ingenuously.
"I can surely help you, the universe helps everyone who's mutable, but I shall show you the shore, you have to climb on the ship to the other end, to the land of no cries. But make sure, you don't make promises to this place, don't stay here, don't commit the same mistake, most already have."
Samuel, sighed for the first time not out of exasperation, but of a faint bit of hope.
"First you have to drop everything, all of your weights of the world, all of your rocks, all of your knowledge, drop everything you know through words. You have to set yourself free, you can't carry the entire world on your shoulders. It's going to be hard, but everything worth gaining is, even freedom.
Destroy everything that's old, you'll need to, in order to create new.
And then once the old is long dead,
know thyself, know yourself, every desire, every wish, you have accumulated within and have prevented it from coming out, in fear of the society.
When you finally know yourself, drop all your desires, drop everything you own, your ego, your envy, your wishes become as simple as the leaf, it doesn't weigh much, it moves with the wind, the wind is it's god, the wind directs it, that's the most difficult to pursue because man can't be simple, simple is dishonouring to him.
But, then you are free, there are no cords holding you back to this world. And with nothing left, there are no cries, just eternal peace, just empty pots, Just the way you were born, you have to eventually return home."
