Hate groups

Lost as I step in. No directions, no path.

I search and see. An old man with a stack of papers stands along the corner.  He seems as if he has been standing there for years.  I ask him what he has at his side.  "Simply papers" he states, "Some say they are guides, some say they a gibberish." I ask him for a paper and one is handed along with a genuine smile of pleasantry. 

Given a paper to carry with me. I read along and figure that this is the way. Yet every step I take I look down at the paper to see a different map. Sometimes only slightly different, sometimes in a completely different way.  I struggle to find trust in this paper that guides me yet I grip it with all the weight I know.

I learn what I feel, what I think is right. I just feel so alone. Lost with only a paper that may lead me to my demise. I long to feel whole, I need to feel right, I need to feel what I'm doing is good. I beg justification of my soul.

Then I found a traveller, stumbling along the same unbroken path. We meet, we talk, we converse on the same path we are on. We share with each other the guided papers that we hold.  He tells me there are more. We all walk this path, together to the brighter side of this land.  One leads them all and I join their ranks. They tell me I'm whole, they tell me I'm good.

Then we walk, walk along this path laid before us. One leads us and we walk and follow. We walk along when we find another group, led by one in a different direction. We tell them they are going the wrong way. If they ever want to see the light they must follow us.  They yell in the same manner, stating they are following the right path.  Brutal words then cross back and forth.  We point at our paper showing them the follies of their ways as they point at their misguided papers to prove they are correct.  After exhaustion sets in from all the yelling we leave them be. Parting in our correct way, leaving them to their wrong.  Distraught from all they anger, we stroke each other with affirmations until we can walk again. How can our group, so large of single thought, so right in our ways be on the wrong path?

We walk again, and more groups, and we walk, and more smaller and larger groups, bigger fights and slight differences we can settle. They all pass us by. I sometimes wonder of their destination, of the path they lead.  Of the papers they all hold.

As time marches along with us, many of us tire.  They lay down, and no longer walk along the path with us.  We leave them in their journey, set a paper near their side then they are no longer tired to walk.  I have left so many papers, have seen so many join our group.  I have seen so many sights, have yelled so many words to other groups.  My own legs have started to feel the burden of this journey.  I rest more often than not.  I let other groups have their way as I no longer have the energy to yell.  I have slowed down more than my group and feel I am weighing them down.  It's only the right thing to do, and rest as I let them continue their journey, their papers in their hands.  I, again alone, now slowly crawl through the forest.  My tired breath weighs down my lungs, my legs have retired from determination my heart holds.  I grip my paper, struggling to see which way I turn.  I rest for a moment,  just enough to carry on.  I sit on the grass and feel it tickle my skin, and the though crosses my mind, "Have I ever sat down through all this journey? Have I felt the tickle of the grass once this entire time?"  I look down the path when I see a figure, warm and welcoming.  I slowly make my way to see a genuine smile of pleasantry.  I figure I slowly began to remember.  I see him, still with a stack of paper, never peddling the means but always happy to hand one out.  I see him pass them to young folk, looking for directions.  They look to find their home, they look to find a way out, they look to search for more, they look for something more.  An uneasy shock through my spine makes it way to my mind.  All these years and I end up right where I started, all of this journey brought me to where I was lost.  I am greeted with a smile that does nothing but shock me some more.  My shock revives the yelling I have engrave on my soul. "How can you hand out guides which lead no where?  Sending people off on journeys which show no end!"  His warming eyes pierced my tired soul with patience.  "Dear friend, I hand out no guides.  I only help where I can.  I stand here to help anyone who comes this direction.  I hand out water, I hand out supplies, this stack of papers by my side so many ask for as if it will provide answers.  I only intend to help, in anyway I can.  I do as I am asked, which is why I am answering your question.  I see you are tired and your voice sounds as if you have yelled for so long.  You see, I have looked down each path but have never journeyed.  You see I love to help, so here I stand, here I remain blissful to be of any assistance.  If you were to ask me which way to go, I would tell you any way you choose.  For everything you need will be on any path you take, yet everything you want will be on any path you pass.  You have spent so much energy reaffirming every decision you made, arguing with those that have different ways, that now you have no energy to enjoy your surroundings."  I sat, with nothing to say.  I simply stared into the pleasant face.  I sat and rested and he had others come again.  They searched for meaning, they searched for a way, for familiar faces that they had not yet seen.  They seek for similar minds to only confirm themselves.  Yet ever paper that got handed was delivered with a smile and every step in a different direction was departed with a friendly wave.  I got myself up after resting for so long and took the side of the man.  He smiled his genuine smile and handing me a stack of papers.  I smiled at every person I met, helped them along any path I could.  I knew that they had every intention to leave and I could not sway any needs they felt they had to find.  I could smile though, greet them with a friendly disposition and be a beacon of friendship, to be here if or when they found themselves again looking for direction.

I helped so many for a time I could not record.  I took in their faces, I enjoyed the space I had been.  Then I again thought of the world, of all the paths I had walked and yelled brutal words back and forth.  I longed to visit these again but with the new eyes that I have seen through.  I hardly remember why I had yelled so much, and all the other things I could have said fill my mind.  I handed my papers back to the man with a smile as bright as his.  I parted him with a thank you as he waved that friendly wave one more time.  He asked one of the few questions I ever heard him ask. "If you don't mind, where are you headed?"  With no papers to weigh me down I smile, "I don't know, and I don't think it matters."  One more time, I walk with no guide, no destination when I meet a group and they ask me what I am looking to find.  Now with no direction I am only interested in their stories, why they have chose the path they so hold dear.  I walk with them only as far as the next group I meet, to hear more of the stories, to guide me to nowhere and travel any path.  Enjoying every moment that I have.