I knew a boy once, just a little boy.
Doing what all boys do, liking what every boy likes and playing and exploring that great new thing, which the world is to little boys.
Now this was a good boy, kind and thoughtful to the needs of others.
No matter what, he always did his best, and surely he never missed a day in school, yes, this was a good boy, for sure.
Worked when he was supposed to, and played whenever he could, in a little boys world, filled with horses, soldiers, knights and pirate ships, pledges of life-long friendships and an open mind to all things around him.
Yes, to all who saw this boy it seemed a sight to behold, that boy who was all that embodied boyhood itself, those beautiful few years of summer days in fields of clover, the years of wonder.
The old men looked at this boy and thought back to their own fainting memories of those long bygone times, that for sure seemed to get more like heaven every day.
And too, this boy had his fears, of monsters under the bed, ghosts and boy-eating giants, mean old dragons and crocodiles and tigers.
But this boys fears were no fantasies, no glimpses of imagination nor the dreams that stem from grandmas scary tales of wolves and trolls.
No, this boys fears were all too real, so was his hunger. His wounds did not bleed imaginary blood, nor was the terror that climbed into his bed, a ghost or just a bad dream. That embodiment of fear was his dad, his brother, a neighbour, a foster, a friend of the family, a Minister, a teacher or whatever form evil chose to appear in.
This was a very scared and confused, hurting little boy, so scared and ashamed nobody could ever know, for what was going on? He sure did not know, he just did not understand what and why that happened, what was wrong with him? For that he knew, something was wrong.
And surely it could not be the adult, for adults are always right. Right?
So was forged the ball and chain of shame, the imprisonment of a young mind, the torture of memory, the dungeons of evil open wide and deep for this boy, and although he tried to get hold of whatever he could hold on to, the drop down seemed to never stop.
Like running the gauntlet, his drop down. Years went by and he encountered the shadows of his past, for sure, he smelled the Sulphur and brimstone, and he saw with his very own eyes the blazing pits of Hell itself.
Then, one day, he hit the bottom. Hard. Face down, as naked and helpless as the day he was born.
He sat up, slowly coming to his senses, so long lost.
As he looked at his battered and bruised body, he suddenly realized he was not a boy anymore, no, he was a full grown man.
He asked himself what happened, and cried over his lost youth.
Suddenly he noticed a boy was standing in front of him.
That boy was he.
He asked the boy what to do, and the boy duly replied that it was not for him to answer a grown up as to what to do,
But he said to the man seek the answers within us and the boy disappeared as suddenly as he had appeared.
He heard a voice saying though I will never leave you, take care of us both.
The man cried, for he had so craved for someone to talk to, after what seemed to be an eternity of loneliness.
But as he sat there, whining and moaning his misery, he realized what it was, that the lost boy had meant.
He stood up, and he knew just what to do.
He was going to fight, and set that boy inside him, free.
As a clarity of his mind, like nothing he ever had known came over him, he realized he was still down in that dark pit.
He looked up, but nowhere could he see the light of day.
He felt the walls, but no door was there.
He felt the floor, but no way out he could find.
Then that old feeling of disheartening came over him again, and he was about to give up when he saw a flash before his eyes
He saw himself, long ago, in agony.
This very sight filled him with a rage,
A rage only the truthful can feel,
And with a battle cry no ordinary man could ever holler out,
He tore down the walls of his prison with his bare hands and the strength of his mind.
He was free.
His dark confinements had changed into a field of blooming clover, and roe deer and wild creatures grazing and roaming therein, all was there, like Noahs ark it seemed, and a stream as clear as Silver ran through it. All was there,
all, but fear or evil.
Never had he encountered such beauty, and as he stood in this field, he felt as if he was born again.
But he knew, what evil was now. Oh, yes. He knew alright.
But there, that day on which he learned the true meaning of the word freedom,
He swore a solemn oath:
I will not bow my head, nor shall I live in bondage.
Never again shall I allow evil to rule my mind, my body nor anything that is mine,
For it was given to me, and now as I behold that which was denied me for so many a year,
I know
There are things worse than dieing.
I shall prefer to fall to the hand of any man who would deny me all this which is good and beautiful,
rather than to ever submit again.
For I know now, Lord God, what precious gift you have given me.
I shall prove worthy of it.
He saw then, the boy, which he once had been,
Playing and running free in the field, a sight to behold.
A smile on his face.
And he knew,
He had set his past and future free
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Be well and stay well,
Gunnar
