Drifted

I was alone when it happened.

But I felt a calm around me.

As if taking this pain without feeling a thing

I was in the East that day, in the middle of the world.

It was sunny, on a river, and I was standing in my paddle boat.

There I was chased by unknown bodies, vaguely resembling figures,

They had a shape,

But no form

The arrows they shot at me flew by and I laid low.

And paddled my boat to a bamboo dwelling, where I hid.

A thatched house.

Those accusers would not find me there, my thoughts.

I paused for a moment as the figures went away.

Around the corner, they vanished.

Some arrows got me.

I felt long arrow shafts moving down my chest,

At the same time, I saw arrowheads protruding.

And the arrows I saw were removed, almost supernaturally, as if the wind blew them away.

I felt no pain.

Regaining strength, I saw yet again my pursuers who were waiting for me, my thoughts.

And the river looked kind as I watched it appear before my eyes, thanking providence.

A man I recognized as he came beside me. He was my friend.

An older man, wearing a robe, and with beard.

Light in spirit,

Lighter than anyone I knew.

As if he could be carried,

But he carried me by his spirit,

As we travelled by boat to an unknown destination.

To get away from those thoughts,

Which brought me no pain,

But only worry.

My friend gave me great comfort in the days ahead.

I forgot about my attackers and neither did they come.

The days came and went, and I drifted away down the river, with my friend by my side.

I was glad. For we disappeared into the mist, and I was at rest from those thoughts.

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