The Emperor of Jurai sat on the thorns that emerged from the throne of Narcissus. The Priests of the Temples of Syrinx fell as a rat turned back from a great tree, which stood amidst a haphazard stairway of the proud, to the safety of the ground. Lefts and rights of passage met the blacks and whites of truth in a landscape of grays that Azusa Jurai came to finally see. A blade of mortality cast his head onto the floor with a cruel descent. A rat shook it's head as the monkey ascended the tree and began to dance upon the highest branch of a tree limb.
And as an emperor… one must think.
I am nothing but a marionette sitting upon a pedestal for all to see. I've come to realize the harsh reality and bitter truth of dreams and the existence of my many flaws. Was I wrong in my foolish aspirations? Was I wrong in the course of actions I have taken?
I am flawed… I am mortal… I am human… and I am weakness.
The foolishness of my meager existence has been brandished in front of me like the triumphant fanfare of the Juraian armada in the festival of the Asteralian Cosmotic: the celebration of the strength that is Jurai. Every gleaming ship that passed through the streets of the capital of Jurai reflected a façade… power is a sense of reassurance that leaves us victim to the truths of the universe that are enshrouded by our unwillingness to accept that we are mortal.
Why could I never see this before? The pompous light reflecting off the gleaming ships embodies pride. Pride is foolishness that destroys the reality of the three factors of space: past, future and above all present. We are all dreamers, too conceited to realize the existence we have is just that: an existence.
A beginning and an end mark us, though varying from person to person, species to species, race to race, the distance between might be far or short however we are all brothers in this endless race towards completion… death; but that seems such an unfitting word.
I finally realize now what so little do, but I may be undermining my point with such an egotistical comment. We are born dead to the world. Our life only begins when we realize that, outside the extremes of our dream lives, lies a true birth and the revelation that the acknowledgement of our mortality empowers us. We are truly all sleepers till awakened to the real existence.
I have just woken up…
I am ignorance in an oxymoron that is bliss. Bliss is not ignorance, for emotions are faded definitions of imagination. Emotional depth escapes us until we embrace our own flaws. I will not oppose the gods. I will acknowledge my imperfection and try to better myself. Opposing the divine is foolish… doing so only brings the hastening of our nightmares. One could not even call it destruction, as one who is never created can never be destroyed. Dreams cannot die; instead they merely become haunting images.
And as harsh as it is to realize that I have just been born, I cannot help but smile at what I now realize. Tsunami, I was a fool.
I was a brash young man in a dream once. I felt love towards two women and with an indestructible sense of immortality I walked the river Styx. My dream carried my soul as my incomplete spirit married two dreamers and ascended a throne.
The Royal Family is nothing but a stain upon the fabric of the robe that is merely a piece of the garb of the living. I was lower than the living. Social status means nothing. The most revered name in the universe is less perfect than the most common of the norm. Arrogance, greed, and stupidity embody the nature of the pig-headed populous. Dreamers are all the same. They, as nice as they are, as much as they resent it and as much as they try to avoid it, are all the same breed of arrogance. We as humans are never treated to modesty, and a complete and utter debasing till we awaken. Embracing mortality and flaws… embracing an end, brings the joy of realizing how to improve. The haze of awakening is clouding my eyes but I know that I will never fall asleep again.
I can try to come up with excuses for my actions but none serve any purpose. I was a dreamer and now I live in a world with vivid colors, true feelings and the exhilaration of realizing just how imperfect I am. Nobles grumbling at my feet, absolute control… it is but a dream that cast me even further towards the darkness.
By tradition, the Royalty of Jurai have been revered as akin to the divine, whether it was conscious that this occurred or not. The laughable nobility of royalty is just another example of the arrogance of the dreamers. I was more than a man to my people. I was the physical embodiment of the great Tsunami. I was and still am Jurai to them. But I am a man… I want to be just that. I enjoy my mortality now.
Life was so simple before. The people threw out the compliments like they were nothing, which I now see for what they actually were… nothing. It was so easy to disregard those people that ran contrary to me. Comments floated as meaninglessly as they, for the most part, were. A few worthwhile people dared to actually back up their information, as they fell out of a dream. But for the majority, the opinion of the public regarding my actions as emperor could be summed up in short totally unintelligent (or at least, lacking thought) comments about my greatness. And the people that fought the norm…
Some would merely, like my meaningless supporters, who were so involved in a false reality that they could no longer distinguish between the underlying truth and the dream's lies, offer simple comments insulting myself. They'd insult my integrity, call me names and behave childlishly. Looking back on it, I cannot help but laugh at how absurd it was. They never ever considered providing a basis to validate their comments much like most my supporters.
However then there stood the other division of the group that opposed me. The people providing me plausible explanations, backing up their opinions to the fullest, yet I was still so infatuated with myself, and the power I had, that I failed to realize how valid their explanations were. In the end, anyone who sailed against the tide that I drifted along, whether doing so to capitalize on the wind direction or without even opening their sails, had the same fate. Like a merciless dictator, I imprisoned them. Censorship ran rampant; banning any materials that might insult me, discredit me. I was a blinded man, the dream searing my eyes until nothing remained but the white blanket of illusion.
I was god.
The people, without anything to prove they were right, assured me of my superiority. I was worshipped and revered. They put me on the pedestal and raised me as high as they could, the support nothing more than flimsy praises.
Yet as I think of it, each flimsy praise was as bad as every convoluted insult. Those that put time and effort into showing me that I was only human, supporting themselves rotted in the detention centers, while those that flung stupidity that told me of my greatness at me, were free to continue dreaming. Each stupid praise or rebuttal was equally at fault. Now I see that those that were awake, those that presented their ideas with support were awake and actually living. I was unborn in a lie.
My tremendous ego created from those praises that had no merit deserved as much criticism as the ones that were against me without any support. I just simply did not wish to hear that I was imperfect. I was enjoying the pedestal. I believed that I was every bit as important as I was said to be, ignoring any counter argument no matter how plausible and correct they were.
Falling to creation was a painful trip yet I do not regret it one bit. The catalyst, the simple message I received from Funaho, my only sons tree-ship after I sent a message asking for Yosho to assume the throne threw me to the floor from my teetering platform. He had replied, "I must decline father. For I am mortal and cannot fill the role of one who is meant to be imperfectly perfect."
The cryptic nature of the response had enraged me until I realized what he meant. My son was not conceited as I was. He was not egotistical as I was. He was not the dreamer that I was… he was more. He embraced an end that he could see and was worth more than I'd ever be because of it. But still I failed to truly see what I was lacking.
Suddenly the realization had hit me that he was awake, and violently, my world had turned upside down. The paper-thin supports of my throne had given way and suddenly I was on the ground, the stairs of pride, arrogance and ego collapsed before me. And I realized that by nature I was imperfect. I realized that I had to accept every opinion, whether it was what I wanted to hear or not. I realized that I was limited. I realized I was flawed. And I smiled truthfully for the first time.
Yet despite this happiness and bliss, I realized the danger of falling asleep again. And yet through my embracing of imperfection I can avoid this. By realizing the truth in what I am, and by accepting my flaws as they are stated, my eyes will remain wide open. I now see the truth, the blurriness fading into a reminder, a lesson, and a guide. Finally, after thousands of years, I am born.
The rat smiled as the branch cracked under the monkey's weight, the foolish animal landing in the rose bush below. The thorns of the throne disappeared as the blossom of life began to bloom.
Disclaimer: Azusa Jurai is the property of AIC and Pioneer. I do not own him.
Author's Notes: There is a meaning behind this introspection. I feel it would detract from the integrity of the fic considering it is a satire if I explained it. If I do receive even one plea for an explanation I'll create one and add it on as another chapter, possibly including some more material beyond an explanation. Thank you for reading and heed the lesson I have tried to convey.
-Bytor