but one

the man with a thousand truths to tell
always has (at least) one lie.

as he wandered through the scorching desert
he realized the only friend he has was the wind.
it whipped his arms, carrying sand along with it.
it chapped his lips and made his thirst grow stronger.
but he knew it
and it was familiar.

he traveled from village to village,
telling his stories.
he was believed and taken at his word
without reason he was accepted and adored.

he was not afraid of animal or beast
that slithered or crawled his way.
he simply did not pay them mind.
the rattlesnake would lung and strike him on his calf
and he would not flinch.

he would continue to walk.

before long, message of this nomad reached towns before he did.
towns people did not know what to think of him.
they let him set up in their town squares and speak
and they stood around and listened.

he never said more than he had to
and no one ever questioned his words.
he was what he appeared to be and nothing more.
they say his appearance varied by day.
long, matted hair one evening
and then nearly bald the next.

he was a mystery.

people saw him bleed though.
as he would enter the town
peoples eyes would lock.
after they shook themselves out of the daze
they would catch a glimpse of his snake bitten legs.
they were inflamed and red,
swollen to inhuman proportions.

but no one said a word.

funny thing is,
no one can remember what he said.
he came in,
spoke,
and left.
and no one remembers his words.

they were enamored by his presence
and would have followed him to war if he asked so.

but he did do one thing.

he would gather belongings such as
book, shoes, tools from people
and turn them over to others.
no one realized this at the time,
but soon after he left
the people realized their possession were gone
and that their neighbor had them.

he stole from the workers
and gave to those who begged.

he could have given them jobs.
he could have paid them to water his camel,
to make him new robes.

he made enough money as he walked into the towns.
townspeople literally threw it at his feet as he entered.

but he never gave them the means
just the ends they thought they deserved.

in the days following this man's leave of a town
large structures would appear instantly.
as if the sand were giving birth to buildings.
slowly columns would rise,
leading the way for walls,
and gates,
and a bridge.

these buildings were empty,
the wind could be heard sweeping through them
howling,
as if it were claiming these structures as their homes.

after awhile the people got used to these behemoths
outside of their gate.
they lived their lives and forgot about them.
they didn't see them anymore because that's exactly what the buildings told them to do.
forget and live.

towns caught fire,
not spontaneously,
that is just too far-fetched.

villages were burned down,
families were reduced to ashes
as the behemoths tossed hot oil over huts,
catapulted flaming stones into walls,
and spewed death over thousands.

no one saw it coming
the question is will we?

-Lnk-