LITTLE DOCTOR
Member
Ciò che scrivo pare non abbia senso, ma che senso avrebbe perseverare ancora. Ciò che descrivo pare inimmaginabile eppure lentamente un’immagine sembra prendere forma, forma e sostanza per divenire un corpo, un corpo per divenire vita e una vita per conquistare la morte, poiché solo morendo possiamo rinascere, dalle ceneri di un fuoco ardente. Ecco il desiderio più ambito, poter rinascere a nuova vita, come se poi la nuova vita dovesse essere veramente migliore… lasciare il passato alle spalle, spalle forti e robuste come quelle degli Dei spesso non basta. A che serve tanta forza, a che serve dominare il tempo ed il proprio nemico, se poi diventiamo nemici anche di coloro che un tempo ci amarono, ci seguirono e ci credettero. A che serve essere stato del tempio un cavaliere o d’artiglieria un generale, nero capitano o semplice caporale, poiché chi rinasce dal fuoco ardente trasforma il bene in cenere conservando solo il male che si alimenterà sempre più del vigore delle fiamme. Colui che fu ultimo dei quattro, vuol tentare di spegnere ogni male dissetandosi alla sacra sorgente. Egli possiede un calice, ma troppe sono le sorgenti, una per ogni cavaliere e i cavalieri sono quattro e ad ognuno di loro è stata assegnata la propria sorgente, la propria linfa. Nessuna è mai riuscito ad attingere alle altre sorgenti. Qualcuno potrebbe riuscire ad affogare quel male per sempre, anche se consapevole di trovar stessa sorte, poiché il male che cerca di distruggere è lo stesso che lo alimenta ed istruisce. Ma talvolta l’allievo può decidere di smettere di seguire il maestro nel momento in cui ha appreso tutto quello che poteva apprendere. Adesso anche l’ultimo dei quattro può muovere le proprie pedine all’interno della grande scacchiera con un’abilità e maestria che fino ad ora appartenevano solo al mago armeno…
(English)
What I write does not seem to make sense, but what would be the point of persevering any longer. What I describe seems unimaginable yet slowly an image seems to take shape, shape and substance to become a body, a body to become life and a life to conquer death, since only by dying can we be reborn, from the ashes of a burning fire. Here is the most coveted desire, to be able to be reborn to a new life, as if the new life were to be truly better... leaving the past behind, strong and robust shoulders like those of the Gods is often not enough. What is the use of so much strength, what is the use of dominating time and one's enemy, if we then also become enemies of those who once loved us, followed us and believed in us. What is the use of having been a knight of the temple or a general of artillery, a black captain or a simple corporal, since whoever is reborn from the burning fire transforms good into ashes, keeping only evil which will feed more and more on the vigor of the flames. The one who was last of the four, wants to try to extinguish all evil by quenching his thirst at the sacred spring. He has a goblet, but there are too many sources, one for each knight and the knights are four and each of them has been assigned its own source, its own lymph. No one has ever managed to draw on the other sources. Someone could be able to drown that evil forever, even if aware of finding the same fate, since the evil it seeks to destroy is the same that feeds and educates it. But sometimes the student can decide to stop following the master when he has learned all that he could learn. Now even the last of the four can move his pawns within the large chessboard with a skill and mastery that until now belonged only to the Armenian magician...
(English)
What I write does not seem to make sense, but what would be the point of persevering any longer. What I describe seems unimaginable yet slowly an image seems to take shape, shape and substance to become a body, a body to become life and a life to conquer death, since only by dying can we be reborn, from the ashes of a burning fire. Here is the most coveted desire, to be able to be reborn to a new life, as if the new life were to be truly better... leaving the past behind, strong and robust shoulders like those of the Gods is often not enough. What is the use of so much strength, what is the use of dominating time and one's enemy, if we then also become enemies of those who once loved us, followed us and believed in us. What is the use of having been a knight of the temple or a general of artillery, a black captain or a simple corporal, since whoever is reborn from the burning fire transforms good into ashes, keeping only evil which will feed more and more on the vigor of the flames. The one who was last of the four, wants to try to extinguish all evil by quenching his thirst at the sacred spring. He has a goblet, but there are too many sources, one for each knight and the knights are four and each of them has been assigned its own source, its own lymph. No one has ever managed to draw on the other sources. Someone could be able to drown that evil forever, even if aware of finding the same fate, since the evil it seeks to destroy is the same that feeds and educates it. But sometimes the student can decide to stop following the master when he has learned all that he could learn. Now even the last of the four can move his pawns within the large chessboard with a skill and mastery that until now belonged only to the Armenian magician...
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