CAECUS 



Caecus   is   standing   beneath   a   tall   dying   tree   in   the   middle   of   an   empty,   brittle   yellow   field, where a   look in   the   distance   of   any   direction   would   only   bring   the   sensation   of   more   solitude.   The   skies   are   a mix   of   soft   neutral   hues,   the   wind   is   icy   dry   and   it   looks   to   burns   his   skin   raw,   red.   He’s   looking   down into   his   hands,   focusing   intently   on   a   rusty   silver   cross   with   a   carving   of   the   crucified   image   of   Jesus Christ   that   all   together   hangs   on   a   lengthy,   dark   red   string   of   yarn.   His   eyes   threaten  to   spill   diluted   secrets at   the   force   of   the   wind.   Perfectly   timed,   as   my   neighbors   gather   closer   to   watch,   his   long   black   hair   falls from   his   tie   and   rushes   to   his   face   while   draping   over   his   hands,   almost   as   if   to   shield   these   secrets   from anybody   who   may   be   near.   Unfortunately,   there   are   only   nobodies   here.   It   seems   his   body   realizes   this before   he   does,   he   is   too   lost   in   thought.

![Caecus.jpg](https://steemitimages.com/DQmd8px9nPvgQ9fctNhgGMSzyDLLZHRWNyTJUkvNh5uXYmk/Caecus.jpg)

Caecus   moves   his   hair   back   to   tie   it   securely,   we   can   see   his   secrets   revealed   briefly   as   they quickly   flood   down   his   cheeks   to   brace   shelter   once   more   in   his   long   dark   beard.   He   kneels   down   slowly to   the   damp   soil,   picks   up   a   small   hand   shovel,   and   begins   to   dig   a   small   hole   into   the   earth,   just   until   he strikes   a   thick   root   from   the   tree.   We   watch   him   place   the   necklace   in   the   hole   and   bury   it   with   the   soil carefully   with   shaking   hands,   as   if   some   piece   of   material   could   inflict   or   feel   pain   if   handled   too   roughly. He’d   finally   gotten   the   courage   to   lay   them   to   rest,   to   begin   the   process   of   his   own   slumber.   A   breath   of relief   escapes   his   mouth   and   his   shoulders   lower   in   rhythm   to   rest   for   this   moment,   to   reminisce   before rejoicing.   Caecus   reaches   into   the   chest   pocket   of   his   long   dark   trench   coat   and   pulls   out   his   wallet, opened   to   two   pictures.   He   prioritized   the   picture   on   the   left   side   for   this   particular   moment.   His   family, his   wife   holding   their   two   baby   girls   after   a   baptism   inside   of   the   siena   cathedral.   I   can   see   it   in   his   eyes, the   yearn   to   be   wrapped   up   in   the   tranquility   of   that   moment   once   again.   He   turns   his   gaze   to   the   torn image   of   a   prayer   script   on   the   left,   to   study   it   and   to   decode   it   one   last   time

“...Merciful   God,
hear   the   cries   of   our   grief,
for   you   know   the   anguish   of   our   hearts.
It   is   beyond   our   understanding
and   more   than   we   can   bear.”



I   have   been   following   this   man,   Caecus,   for   nearly   3   years   now.   I   observe   in   the   background   of
his   living,   particularly   during   his   darker   moments.   Where   he   is   vulnerable,   under   the   shields   of   his   bed covers,   and   inside   of   his   4   walled   cemetery.   My   presence   grows   stronger   as   his   pain   lingers,   I   am   a   result of   this   infestation   of   negativity.

![eye1.jpg](https://steemitimages.com/DQmYCW6K26VgBdxq278wzYTmk9USf5Ab337up4uQs6W7N6V/eye1.jpg)

Caecus   has   many   followers,   however.   The   majority   of   these   beings   are   of   very   high   frequency. To   lower   realmed   creatures   like   myself,   we   cannot   see   their   bodies,   only   intense,   scintillating   lights.   They are   essentially   the   opposite   of   myself,   and   I   to   them,   appear   to   be   a   moving   mass   of   gloom.   The   difference between   our   wavelengths   of   existence   hinders   our   communication   greatly.   I   exist   in   the   lower   frequency of   this   fourth   derivative   dimension,   and   they   hover,   above   all   beings,   in   the   heavens.
One   thing   that   interests   every   entity   in   this   domain,   is   life.   We   crave   the   ability   to   feel   in   the special   way   that   life   in   the   human   dimension   provides.   Indeed   it   is   different   for   every   energy   level   here, but   watching   a   human   take   their   life   is   either   seen   to   be   amusing   or   upsetting.   The   masters   will   often   send these   souls   into   a   loop   until   they   make   it   through   a   full   lived   life.   They   do   not   accept   broken   deals.
Although   his   brighter   beings   stand   far   closer   to   him   than   myself,   Caecus   is   only   receptive   to   me, and   the   closer   I   get   to   him,   the   closer   he   gets   to   giving   up.   He   is   very   familiar   with   me,   he   talks   to   me when   he’s   alone,   when   he   can   sense   the   thickened   air   and   the   pain   developed   through   breathing   it.   I   talk back   to   him   every   time,   but   my   words   don’t   travel   well   across   the   dimensions.   Many   times,   he   has   asked me   to   identify   myself   and   my   words   have   always   came   through   to   him   as,“tsefinam”.   He   still   hasn’t decoded   it,   not   even   with   his   brighter   guides   directing   his   attention   to   the   mirror   exactly   in   front   of   him. Blind.

“Who   are   you?!   Why   do   you   follow   me!”,   the   man   sobbed,   as   he   sat   in   the   pitch   black   room   in the   shades   of   midnight,   staring   blindly   at   me   while   I   stood   in   the   corner   opposite   him.   He   gathered   his covers   and   pressed   them   against   his   wet   face   to   dry   his   fear.
“Tsefinam,   Caecus”,   my   attempts   to   communicate   from   this   side   are   usually   translated   into   his own   language   by   this   field   between   us,   his   subconscious   mind.   That   of   which   speaks   a   language   of metaphorical   wisdom.
The   human   mind   exists   before   the   body,   it   does   not   rest   in   a   skull,   it   protrudes   from   and   within the   skin,   from   every   angle.   It   is   the   aura,   the   astral   body.   There   is   no   hiding   intentions,   feelings,   or   any secrets   from   anyone   or   thing   who   wishes   to   witness.   For   the   most   part   they   mean   nothing   to   us   here,   they are   just   means   of   attraction   to   different   level   beings.   Caecus   embodies   a   very   dull   silhouette,   a   gray-blue translucent   cloud   taking   over   all   of   his   power   centers   throughout,   consuming   his   health.   He   has   no   one   in his   life   anymore,   he   feels   alone,   torn,   broken.   He   is   uninterested   in   his   future   furthermore.   This   thrills   me, in   this   only   way,   I   will   soon   get   a   taste   of   what   it   is   like   to   feel.

I   watch   Caecus   stand   back   up   from   beneath   the   tree   and   reach   into   his   coat,   his   hand   rested   inside of   its   inner   pocket   for   a   moment   as   he   fidgeted   with   whatever   was   inside.   The   winds   blew   fiercely   at   this point,   forcing   his   long   dark   veil   back   down   and   over   his   face   as   the   blackened   clouds   raced   to   watch   the dark   suspense   of   the   scene.   I   make   my   way   closer,   to   see   him   clearly.   The   reddened   misery   in   his   eyes, his   pale   skin   drained,   his   infectious   heart   dripping   with   it’s   own   ache.   I   can   feel   his   heart   pounding, stomach   twisting,   head   throbbing,   his   veins   aching.   For   a   moment,   I   can   even   feel   the   rain   drops   merge with   his   tears   on   my   own   face   and   all   I   can   think   about   is   what   it   will   feel   like   when   he   finally   does   the deed.   Intense   I’ll   bet.

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