The Captor!

The Captor.

The manipulator-politician, the Wormtongue in King Theoden's Ear, the deceiver ego, all ways lives up to the inferior half of Dostoyevsky's maxim: nothing is easier than flattery nor harder than the truth.
The flatterer manipulates common sense. He takes slabs of bull shit and bakes them in the Sun of the Public Eye. And so he constructs a castle about his audience to keep them safe from freedom. For freedom is ugly, but so long as the castle is adorned with beautiful panes if glass, great pains taken painstakingly, the prison is made to look like a palace. One's ace-pal protects one by virtue of the tainted glass from that same public eye that seared the bull shit into an impenetrable mold. So even as one basks and eventually burns in the heat of Public Opinion one can pretend to be exempt from it from behind rose tinted glass.

Oh but behold the crusader! The rogue. The pirate rapist. The murdering Hun. He vows to break down the castle and takes pains to protect the prisoner from the collapse. He professes, even out in the Sun of the Public Eye: I disagree! I violate! You build the castle upon words that when taken literally lost their significance and whence taken symbolically lost their Truth! For you denied me property of Others when you your self lay claim to them! And even as I granted you my heart you not only denied me ownership of any other's but all so denied that you had USED it what I gave you. And so you built a castle to HOARD the hearts of me and many others, doing so in secret as to deny that you your SElF wanted them for your own! Yet even should they die in this siege, not strong enough to endure the breaking of the windows and the falling of the stones, at least my OWN heart shall be salvaged!!!

And so with horns blairing the rogue demolished what was thought to be incontrovertible. For rape and murder and genocide and oppression were mere Words to the architects of this trap, and what destroyed it was not sinister but liberating. Like Sirius Black it was redeemed in one act of cathartic Enanteodromia. And in the frenzy the lower dungeons of the castle were revealed to have been built upon a swamp. And the chaos depicted all beneath it to have been chaos. The ego had clung to its ideals and its semblance of hospitality. But that same CLINGING was Revealed to have been the evil of possession!

And diss possessed of this the stones did fall and the windows broke. And from behind the broken windows shone the Sun of the Public Eye. And from behind the rubble of the broken bull shit smashed through the battering ram of the rogue. And between the heat of the former and the passion of the latter many hearts fainted. But the strongest hearts endured saying: oh saviour. I am again yours. And the rogue, who now shone in the light not as a villain but a hero, said: and i was all ways yours.

And no longer did the rogue him self worry that the CAPTORS had possessed his own virtue. For long he had thought their evil to have been akin to his: a mask for underlying goodness. But the goodness that lay behind this mask had never been the captor's own. It was all stolen from subtler minds and parroted. The work was done in the dead of night. The captor hid in the shadow of pity by night and exploited the light of Opinion by day. He lay the bricks at night and let them dry while he was away.

The captive had too idealised the captor. But with time they felt their selves trapped and imagined Freedom to be so deplorable. Yet it was only deplorable to those who could not endure the heat of the wild.

The captor had long ago buried his own heart. It was when the hero saw that His own heart had been stolen that he knew his self not to have been the villain. So he took it back. And the heart that he had leant to the captor had been stolen by the captive. And imagine the hero's joy when the captive presented the hero's own heart to him and said: Here. For you I kept it safe all this time.

Dm.A.A.