"We Have Met the Enemy and He is Us." Pogo (via Walt Kelly)

Through a crowd of people I press. Obstacles in my way to keep me from Him. Is that Him? I caught just a glimpse and heard only a whisper. 

"Move! Make way!", I shout, "I must touch the Master! I want to be HEALED!"   

But they don't move. The swirling mob grows deeper, more expansive, and the distance between the Master and I ever greater. Desperation gives way to panic as the crowd becomes less a passive barrier and more and more an active and agressive resistance. Shoving. Pushing back. Blocking my path. Obstructing my view of my deepest Desire.

"Where did they come from?", I wonder. Few become many and many become many more. So many! But the horror grows not from the vast numbers of these enemies who would keep me from my Hope and Love, but rather from the image of their faces...for every face is mine.

There I am with a lustful, leering gaze. Here I am with a haughty look of pride. Over there I am blind with rage and void of compassion. Here I stumble along, barely awake, lazy and apathetic. There I stand with shifty, deceitful eyes, waiting to manipulate another. 

Lost. The many faces of the one man have become a sea so wide that I can no longer see Him. The lying, shouting, seducing voices so loud that I can no longer hear Him. 

"Are you still here? Can you silence the mob? Shout to me so that I can find you! Better yet, can you just slay them all - scatter their ashes on the wind- so that we can be alone? Yes, they are me, but I need YOU! Rescue me from the suffocating press of my own making!"