Wednesday, April 10, 2019

In The Circle of Knives


The Floor at the pyramid’s apex is small and fiercely contested.
Those who seek power will discover early on that unlimited wealth is the means, not the object. They will discover that that which corrupts is not the wealth but the hubris that accompanies the power.
They will also discover that a path un-tempered by strictures of the unwritten tenets is like a rug that is liable to be swiftly pulled from beneath them.
Quite how Manipur found himself within the Circle of Knives is for other tongues to tell; I do not know. What I do know is that at that moment, so fleeting, Manipur felt fear for the first time since his inauguration onto the Floor just a few years previous.
I was there at that opening ceremony; saw the blood well in his palm to be collected in the crystal chalice bound for the lips of the Kulturati. Indeed, I too partook in that ceremony, for I too am a player on the Floor.
The blood spilled here at this closing ceremony, in the Circle of Knives, will require no crystal chalice, the Floor itself will be receive Manipur’s arterial spray.


Tales for an attention deficit world

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