Raison D’être
The meaning of life itself
D. Kieffer
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RAISON D’ÊTRE Denise Kieffer © Copyright 2018 Denise Kieffer All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system , or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book. This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people.If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. Thank you for respecting the author’s work. This book is considered and published as fiction. Any similarities to real or imagined characters, people or places are completely coincidental; it should be noted the book is relatively adult in nature.
Raison De’tre Denise Kieffer
Preface The day I was born, the angels whispered, "He is going to love her until the day she dies. Who again?
I have avoided it since the words since they entered the universe. The universe, a rather large space. Two possibilities exist: either I am alone in the Universe or I'm not. Both are equally terrifying. It's Everything and nothing, really. The power of the thought can mirror everything I experience. Through memory and knowledge, I myself become of a microcosm, carrying the world within my entity. A mirror of things, a parallel of the universal life I'm surround by.
We are all men where I exist, frail in finality and incapable of our own rebirth; only the few are, as mighty men of Din. Incapable of our lost hope. We fled into and amongst the stars, incapable of knowing the next hope. When you reach out amongst the stars, you are reaching for the farthest thing out there. When you reach deep into yourself, it is the same thing, but in the opposite direction. If you reach in both directions, you will have spanned the universe. For some people, the point of no return begins at the very moment foreign souls in a foreign place become aware of each others existence. And accept it.
Human beings - what is a human being? Each of them become a micro universe within the universe. Extraordinary, I've never seen such.
I'm beginning to believe that there are angels disguised as men who pass themselves off as such and who inhabit the earth for a
while to console and lift up with them toward heaven the poor, exhausted and saddened souls who were ready to perish here below.
I was given this life; it is my duty (and also entitlement as a human being) to find something beautiful within life, no matter how slight. Here is the world. Beautiful and terrible things will happen. But when I saw you, this World stopped. It stopped and all that existed in me was only for you and my eyes fixed on the esther.
There was nothing else. No noise, no other people, no thoughts or worries, no yesterday, no tomorrow. The World just stopped. The beautiful place faded to eternal rest and there was only you. Just you, and I knew it.
You are memory of home to me. So whenever my mind wanders, it always finds it’s way back to you. To me, you were more than just a person. You were a place where I finally felt at home. You believe in angels, and, because you believe, I exist. You believe when no one else does.
You ask, "Do you think I'm pretty?" I think you're beautiful. Beautiful. You are so beautiful, it hurts sometimes. It hurts. It longs. Even before we met and long after we're both gone, my heart lives and will live inside of yours. I'm forever and ever in love with you.
Not only do I love you, but I could tell the universe loves you, too. More than others. You're different. After all; I would be a fool not to notice the way the sunshine plays with your hair. Sometimes there is such beauty in awkwardness.
Girl, you are intertwined to my entity. I have claimed you. You are mine. I will always love you. Two possibilities exist: either I am alone in the Universe or I'm not. Both are equally terrifying.Â
!2
1. What’s this feeling again? That’s right: Orphic. Orphic: mystery, itself, beyond ordinary understanding. Orphic, seeing the world I once inhabited, to be extinct of all who once dwelled there. The was-flourishing vegetation, the worldroaming beasts, and the beings who authored the existence of the world itself, to be erased. It was to be expected, though. When a world summons a passing, individuals are filtered and the base they came from was tossed back into the darkness as matter to rebuild once more. The Dinlans were ludic, full of the lightly spirit our Shepherd sewn into our souls. He gifted us with great talents after our reproof of faithfulness in our sager days. Us Dinlans carried that honor like the mane of our heritage. He gave us the power of vast knowledge, capable of holding eons of gradual intelligences from generation to generation. In some, He distilled powers of sense that split the conscience veil of eye, to see what truly lies beneath. To some a gift of Elemental control, to move the waters and thresh, or the winds and flames, or even elements we, in orphic, yet to discover. I was instilled a power truly orphic. And ironic. It was a skill stereotypically assigned as of an addict, which I never really understood my place as such. I couldn’t help that the
gift I possessed carried and outputted such strong energy. Energy I was meant to intake. When I would describe the ability the Good Shepherd bestowed, I would receive puzzled looks, and from some immediate scrutiny. I would be toted to the authorities, held for a seldom few hours, and released under innocence. “His job is to inhale all of that junk, and let out the good. No law broken here.� This certain scenario typically cycled once every week. But now, that world is being left behind. We have been passed to administer to another place of another peoples: Me, a naturalborn addict; a swift thief worthy of the passing; a multi-platform entrepreneur; a physically toned warrior; and about six other men in gathering. We assembled in some tranced space, the feeling we were all together in a joined body blasting off into elsewhere unknown. The power was exceedingly great, and so also the energy that emitted from all of our entities combined. I felt a toxic mix of amnesia, confusion, vertigo, and the feeling of hiraeth. The feeling of homesickness for a home to which you cannot return, a home which maybe never was.
!2
2. Crunch. Scratch. Blurry groans. What’s this place again? That’s right, it’s…. Vision was blurry and blackened, more intensely than the usual spell. Much heavier, a dense gravitational pull on each limb chained me to the thresh for a time. The feeling was mutual amongst the other members of the party, hearing the disembodied groans of being, too, stuck in temporal paralysis. As the haze began fading, thought processes cleared, awareness heightened, along with the adrenaline of being in unfamiliar territory with not much defense to work with. From the looks of it, the buff guy seemed to be the first and most ready to protect himself from foreign offense. The bandit volleyed eyes in every measurement of his location, I guess making analysis of his smooth evade. The rest just waited for something to happen. I rose from the ground after sobering up from the withdrawal that plagued the group. The expanse around us was seemingly ancient, broken stone columns and tufts of grass growing from the spaces between the walking stones. Night had already fallen deep in our arrival as if planned in perfection for incognito and the least of disturbance. A very gentle breeze flowed from behind us for refreshment, like a splash of water to the face. So much so, it was like you could hear the reminiscence of it along with the wind.
“What is the place we stand on?” A member of the party broke. He seemed strong in persona, in which he wasn’t afraid to carry his honor and heritage from Din to this place. I remember seeing this kind of face back at home. I believe this kind of face was of medicine, a naturalist. The naturalists in Din were the essence of healthy life amongst our kind. They prolonged our lifespan, improved our filtration of intakes, gave us protection of invaders of bodily harm. They were the Good Doctors. It must of felt like the worst of failures when we had the passing, knowing the majority of our kind was tossed away, not being able to use their gift in anyway, to save them. The members didn’t answer. As a unison gift, Dinlans were able to receive information that our world presented without manually retrieving it ourselves. Much like an automatic instillment when traveling to a new place. Here, the information was yet to be relayed to us recipients. It was rather late to arrive by now. “This place must have an immense amount of detail, too much for our power to intake. For sure, after the amount burned to even locate here. The feeling of home is so distant, its warmth is now strangely cold,” the naturalist continued. “We still have enough to power to know what lies within this circle. Even if we have to retrieve the name of this location in our own hands, we have the power within us to survive. We wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t so,” the buff guy resounded. “And how much would that be?” the bandit retorted. Silence was rebuilt. “Enough for me to give all of you,” I kindly offered, from the energy of negative despair the group engulfed me in. It was an offering enough for me to return the favor. The party fixed attention to me, whom indifferently than most, looked as if I was sane in offering a gift from an addict. “And how much would that be, Azuel?” the bandit repeated. “Lagom.” Enough, just the right amount, to suffice.
!2
3. It is better to give than to receive. So it’s been told. Since my youth, I thought I could use my gift as benevolence, like many great men before me. The Patriarchs of Din, our forefathers, committed themselves to outreach through service and benevolence, preaching through examples of faith, endurance, honor, and many other codes that made the upbringing from a boy to manhood. And growth even beyond, to Sons of the Shepherd, what was lastly called the mighty men of Din. I know that benevolence was priority, as I found it the strongest tone to my awareness, but the works I served for the poorest, I cannot recall. Not one single act of kindness. I remember thoroughly the harsh reality of being tossed into imprisonment for lending my power, but not an iota of memory for good and serving results. I was overruled by society as one who consumed toxic energy like water, cut-short judged that I used the god-given talent instilled in me for my own personal pleasure. Ive been keeping that all in the back of my mind, but also remembering that I did surpass to elevation and eventually, evolvement. The way it happened, and the result of it, remains— orphic, like usual. I emptied myself out, a practice that I tried to exercise as soon as the opportunity arose. The party filled with vigor and liveliness and the drag fell off like dead leaves in autumn prime. They shook of the after chill, before sealing the lid of their now full containments.
A member piped, “This place, I can gather from, is Earth. They haven’t gone through their passing yet, but neither can I tell when the event will occur. It is like the information is strictly cut off to outsiders. Maybe even its own inhabitants.” “So where are we now exactly?” the bandit retorted. “Distant. I cannot sense any form of life outside this planet. I cannot sense our own peoples. Vision’s eye of it all, we are too far away from home for our knowledge of measurement.” “Is there even a god here? One with instruction to live by?” the entrepreneur beckoned. “There is,” I answered “the eminence is here. This place is extremely clouded.” “What’s that supposed to mean?” the buff guy questioned. I shook my head in discernment, “ Its so dark here, these people cannot see Him anymore. He is here, clear as day, as for the people, they are vile and vain. It seems that their own discord from the light has veiled their sight, and have forgotten whats right. They are but blind beasts, practicing evil in every step.” “What is our hope then, if these people cannot see the Light that is before them? We ourselves would be of vain use if all we worked for here amounted to nothing,” the entrepreneur ruffled, “we were placed into elevation to serve, not to be still life.” “Ignis, this isn’t the last hope.” “Then explain. What do we do from here?” Silence instilled, along with the breeze that splashed our faces. “He who has ears, hear Me.” We turned to the attention of what seemed to be one of us, but of this world’s origin. An angel. The being believed to be a servant of a god, in personified form.
!2
4. “Je ne sais quoi,” french for I don’t know what. This was — halfway there and —halfway not. The man who stood before us was of our kind,— and wasn’t. He had a luminance to him, like he was of evolvement for a long time. Yet we were able to look into his eyes as if he was a brother. He had been crowned to show superiority, in subtleness. But he spoke, to what it seemed, as no harmful intrusion. And the whole place felt as if time stopped and peace began. “Address yourself, brother.” the buff guy announced. The kinsman spoke, “I am but a servant here for a brief moment. I speak for the Lord, not for myself.” “Alright, good enough. What brings you here?” “You have been judged worthy of acceptance of the Lord, have you not?” “Of course, we would be swimming in the flames if we weren’t.” “Then you ought to know why I am here, on behalf of the Lord.” the messenger scolded. “What does he beckon us to do?” I reasoned. The man of light turned his attention to me and spoke, “Mighty Men of Din, you have been brought to a land of promise. The world you now have planted your feet in is the land flowing of sweetness that was written by your patriarchs. Out of the many of Dinlans, the ten of you surpassed judgement, and are here of worthiness to do the Lord’s Will.” “And what is that exactly?” The bandit retorted.
“Serve the poorest, you serve the Lord.” “De ja va” French for this sounds really familiar, like it’s happened before. That’s right: it did. “You have been elevated, don’t fret about that. You have been elevated higher than mighty men who serve from the heavens ourselves. All of you have a parallel, who prepared themselves before you were even created, to be as reward for your elevation and soon evolvement. They are of the 72 who remain to be holy sons of God. From the 72 of the fallen, there is ten equivalent adversaries, who also dwell here, but for the sake of humanity’s destruction.” He continued, “There are seven lands distinguished in this world. Seven of you have been chosen to be representatives as shepherds to flock the sheep of God. You will be seated in the land, and God will be your support and aid. Your job is to help the poorest, that is how you serve both God and his sheep. As shepherds, you have been given many gifts of divinity, in order to maintain the light within you. But when the Lord needs you to be a warrior than a shepherd, He will use you as a warrior, and not a shepherd.” He breathed once more, “Some of you, when you join your parallel, may be attuned immediately, and for some, it is an acquirement. But in a higher sense, and more responsible, you retain a human form. You have the liberty of freewill, but with liberty, you are responsible to maintain yourself. You either have the choice to destroy the faith, or renew it. The Lord says this: As much as you are responsible for leading the sheep, you yourself need to know how to direct yourself to the light.” “This is not the last time you ten will see each other. Just like any other human contact, you may speak to another if the Lord wills. But know this, once you leave here, your new life begins.” The instillment was there now. It arrived. And to our knowledge, that was just the first of many pieces. “Peace be with you all.” The event ended, and we spun right back into the dark blur we thought we escaped. !2
5. Psithurism, to sirimiri and phosphenes. Translated finely as, going from the breeze that splashed my face, to pecks of small drizzle and somewhere in temporal starry space— In reality, I thought I was in a tranquil place, but I was aware enough know I was lying in a cot-like bed, cooped in a small room. The sirimiri, which I thought in slumber was downpour, drizzled lightly on the glass pane on the nearer wall of the mattress. And I was seeing the stars and blurry haze once again. But the rain calmed the whole room like the drops flowing into the makeshift oasis, rather than tapping a glass barrier. I settled down from the panic and let the drizzle coat my frizzed soul. It dissolved the gunk around my eyes, and at last, was fully and thoroughly aware of my surroundings. Daytime rain, peaceful yet producing a soft melancholy that dampened giddy morning hours. Grayish hues painted the walls, most likely the color of rainclouds. An oak dresser of four drawers was tucked into the corner, beside a stand-up closet, the curtain door open partly. The bed was of antiqued age, but fit well within the style of the room (and oak chest.) The door shutting off the minuscule chamber was also oak, adorned with a mirror hung for admiring. And the space that was left, was maybe one or two arms-length of distance, from the vertices of the bed to the door. I rose from the bed, after viewing and concluding all of what was in the room. The abode wasn’t of all grandeur, but for current circumstances, this was probably the best.
I began to walk around the space; I was filled with this strange curiosity to touch and smell the textures around me. I started with the end of the room: The dresser was slick; it smelled old. Opening the drawers, the wood was unfinished. I pricked my finger on a small splinter; decided not to smell it. I removed an article of clothing, which seemed to be a shirt. It was a bit old, or I guess distressed. Both touch and color was faded, but the smell was admirably masculine. I approved. I removed the garment on me and wore this one instead There were other garments, like trousers and shirts with longer sleeves. And like the shirt: old, faded, and masculine. The closet was gold in color, but it smelled of musty brass. It was tarnished in some places, but considered a beauty of sorts. Coats hung here, which were fresher and newer than the articles in the dresser. They held more of a vigorous smell than the dresserthings. I turned to the mirror, which had tarnishes as well, but enough clear spots to see my reflection. I figured when you unite with a parallel, something would have to change. I’d pondered a couple of times through “scenario-to-scenario” scenarios. “If I had a parallel, worst case, I wouldn’t be me at all. In fact, it would be more like ‘false advertisement’ than an ‘exactly you but somewhere else in the universe’ kind of thing, don’t you think?” I said that once. To whom, I don’t remember such. I looked, and in best case scenario, the reflection wasn’t any different. The traits of my coal black mane and coldest blue eyes passed on to this form. It’s like they just pinched me by the collar and dropped me here. I still had the chiseled-to-perfection chin, which I carried proudly on Din. That was supposed to be an “inborn” trait of Mighty Men. Much like having admirable features such as blue eyes and wonderful-hued hair. The feeling was relieving, but I felt selfish for thinking in such a way. “You’re burning a hole through the door again. Did you forget who you were?” a voice called out, male. The door cracked to reveal a scrawny male of same age, giddy and chummy even in the gloomiest of days. “I’m glad you’re awake, Eric. You haven’t changed a bit.” !2
!3
Two possibilities exist: either I am alone in the Universe or I'm not. Both are equally terrifying. It's Everything and nothing, really. The power of the thought can mirror everything I experience. Through memory and knowledge, I myself become of a microcosm,
Raison D’être carrying the world within
D. Kieffer
my entity.A mirror of things, a parallel of the universal life I'm surround by. I was given this life; it is my duty (and also entitlement as a
human being)to find something beautiful within life, no matter how slight. Here is the world. B Beautiful and terrible things will happen. But when I saw you, this World stopped.It stopped and all that existed in me was only for you and my eyes fixed