March of the Infinity soldiers

“in nearly three weeks I had fired just three shots at the enemy.  They say it takes a thousand bullets to kill a man, and at this rate it would be twenty years before I killed my first fascist…at this period of the war the real weapon was not the rifle but the megaphone.  Being unable to kill your enemy you shouted at him instead.” George Orwell

And shout they did.  They found their voice.  As the screens, which were now their faces infinitely flickered, lighting the way, the hum, slow humming became their voice.  They had a voice, louder than a bomb but indecipherable, at least to us as we were shouting over their monotonous hum.  Nothing between us but our own breath and our ideas and an invisible line none dare cross.  We have once again become human, even Dez now stands before us.  Our mouths continually shouting at each other, every instance forgetting how close we are to each other, so close we are almost existing in the other’s skin.  One of them slowly, meekly walks towards us.  The flickering screen the only light anywhere.  The image it shows has no bearing on our minds.  They are moving so fast, we don’t know what the screens are even doing to us.  He drops to his knees and shards of light, his tears, form a puddle at his knees.  Now we are confused because the humming, and the shouting instantly ceases.  My first instinct is to kill him.  A burst of flame as he lights himself ablaze and without a thought I jump on him and begin rolling to calm the flames.  I am laying on top of him and his screen, still flickering looks at me and for a brief moment I understand and the shards of light are still dripping down his screen.  We are now both drowning in light as the others are frozen, staring down at us, as I clutch him like a child. Somewhere, far away there is an explosion and they seem to get closer, but still no one moves and everyone at the same instant drops to their knees and reaches their hands up to the sky.  We ask for forgiveness for the lines we’ve drawn between us.  For the hatred and vitriol we spewed at each other.  For the fear we let consume us.  There is a better way than blame.  There is a better way than looking outside of us for answers.  And what he communicated to me as his tears now became a part of me was the screen covering their faces was reflecting everything, every experience they ever had, back at them on repeat.  They had no time to think of what was happening.  They only could experience, and they only could shout because it was the only way they thought to relieve the pain.  The sun was slowly rising as he still lie in my arms crying and the bombs were getting closer and now everyone was crying and maybe we were approaching our death as the vibrations from the ground grew stronger and stronger but not one of us had any fear as we were drowning together in the light of our own beings


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