embrace
The man feels the heavy sensation of a leaking lead car battery attached to his heart with barbed wire, charging with the movement of his mind. Rusted jumper cables are attached to the battery, spinning tumultuously in cadence with the gyration of his stomach. As the cables writhe in his thorax they arc, firing crippling shocks throughout the man’s body.
The man knows this sensation well. It is so familiar. He embraces it.
Seeing the pain of his friend, the boy glances at the man, with a shy expression, his head mildly tilted to the right, blue eyes meeting the man’s only briefly before looking at the ground. His arms are stiffened to his sides, with his fingers tensioned into awkward straight arcs. The boy knows the sensation the man feels. Tears well in the boy’s eyes. As gravity takes hold of the salty drops, wrenching them down the boy’s cheeks the little one takes a tremendous, reckless step closer as he opens his arms wide. The boy embraces the man’s wrist with all of his might, knowing that the shock he will experience will make him want to let go and run. He runs, holding tight.
The boy knows this sensation well. It is so familiar. He embraces it.
Lost n the blurriness of the moment, the man runs with the boy, uncertain, so uncertain. Why are these shocks pulsing? Why is my stomach floundering? Where have i been? Where am i being led? Why? What? Where is everyone else? He feels as though he has been rendered unconscious, in a deep sleep, being awoken by violent noise, stumbling for recollection and bartering with his body for coordination upon waking. The shocks continue. They stumble, hand-in-hand. The boy’s tears continue.
As the viscosity of the cloud becomes more translucent the boy leads the man further; they amble in an environment that is filled with rustling trees, rocky cliffs cascading with vibrant vines; light percolates with a blush through the canopy into a pool of warm, clear water. The temperature is comfortable on their skin. The environment is assisted in perfection by a choice wine collection, a table for six and a simple but well-equipped kitchen complete with a gas stove. A japanese-style futon sits with perfect aesthetics amongst the soft grasses, graced in soft tan sheets. A book shelf holds remarkable poetry and stories of inspiring depths. Carla Bruni’s words resonating poetic French from the hidden speakers assist them to realize they are in a perfect acoustic environment. A macbook air is at a simple desk. “This is so familiar, so comfortable,” says the man, as the shocks subside.
“Yes,” the boy agrees, as he let’s go, smiling and returning to an awkward, but content stance.
The man sits cross-legged on the yoga mat and begins to contemplate what has transpired, what is transpiring… his eyes close…. the sensations, the pain, the love, the boy, the environment, the patterns. 
Moments later he looks up to the boy, who still stands in his awkward posture. Behind the boy ten flowers have begun to bloom in the garden. Some of the roses are small and delicate, while others are mature and fragrant. One flower expands and contracts with chaotic force while another coyly peeks from behind leaves. Several are turned away and others grow visibly closer to the the boy and man, with each passing second, as their branches grow impossibly fast.
The man again closes his eyes and smiles, sitting for several moments more. He stands peacefully and approaches the boy. He kneels next to the flowers to experience their intriguing characteristics and individuality, to see their beauty, so smell their fragrance, to feel their soft petals and thorny vines. The flowers whisper to them.
As the man turns toward the boy a tear wells in his eye. “This cave is not where we belong. I love you. I will care for you. You will be okay,” he says to the boy as a solitary tear is clutched by gravity; he hugs the boy close, picks him up and strides from the small room of perceived perfection, re-entering the world.
As they walk along the forested path the battery swings from the barbed wire as the jumper cables shuffle. Leaves lazily drift from the fall trees as the light of the sun drifts below the horizon and lightens the crisp, humid, biting fall air.
The shocks continue.
They know this sensation well. It is so familiar. They embrace it.
