A poem about idealization

A poem about idealization that I wrote! 

---------

They tell the story

of a god whose followers abandon him.

They blindfold themselves, trusting that his face will be exactly as they expect it to be.

The practice seems almost mandatory for those who worship him, though he never once commanded it. Perhaps he never had to.

This being sends those warriors into what become their greatest battles, their fiercest desires, dismissing the wounds carved into them upon their return.

"The reward will be great," they say.

Even when no one asks them to stay for the next battle, they do.

You try to find him, to make sense of him through the contempt etched into your scars, still clinging to the blind hope that it will all be worth it.

But how do you know you've found something you've never seen? How can you discover the path that leads to the right destination? How can you reach it when you don't even know what that destination is?

How do you know whether you're moving forward or backward?

Perhaps, one way or another, you would always arrive at the end of the road. No matter how many eternities you believed you had walked, or how many times you thought of turning away,

regardless of the path you chose, you would always end up here.

You have reached the journey's end.

You stand before your god.

Rejoice beneath his glory.

Delight in his pride.

You are his most faithful follower.

Go on.

Touch him.

Savor him.

Worship him.

Gentle as the stag surrendering itself to its hunter, perhaps, after so many battles, you will finally understand why they were fought.

That final glimmer.

You raise your hands, expecting another pair to meet them,

but nothing answers your touch.

What is this feeling?

Disappointment?

Sorrow?

Wrath?

Whatever it is, it leaves you frozen like a statue at his feet.

You are still there, though perhaps even that has lost its meaning.

"Remove the blindfold."

He commands,

and without hesitation, you obey.

You have reached the end of the road.

This is your reward: to see him,to behold him, to lose yourself in his image.

You were certain he would be as beautiful as the last raindrop that falls after a storm, announcing the end of all suffering.

But your storm had only just begun when your eyes finally rise in search of him,

you find something monstrous,

an abomination so dreadful that not even the nightmares imprisoning your eyelids could ever have imagined it.

There are no eyes in which to find your own reflection.

No warm hands waiting to receive your prayers.

You cannot even give shape to what stands before you.

There is no word capable of naming it.

He was never what you expected.

Yet...

is he truly so horrific simply because he is not what you wished him to be?

Was he ever? He stood beside you through your fiercest battles.

He was the reason you kept fighting each day.

He was the one who placed sustenance before you every morning.

Surely that deserved gratitude.

But he was never a god.

This...

was his true form.

Would you still fight for the nameless god? Would you be willing to learn his name? Would you endure this terrible appearance,

until one day you grew accustomed to it?

Would you learn to worship him exactly as he is?

You look around.

There is no follower left but you.

He has done nothing except be what he is.

Did they abandon him simply because of that?

Was that truly such an unforgivable thing?

He never told them to wear the blindfold.

But neither did he warn them about it.

Perhaps he feared that if they had known from the very beginning who he truly was, they never would have stayed.

Or perhaps he simply stopped caring whether they stayed or left.

After gathering so many disappointments throughout his life,

it no longer mattered.

He never claimed to be a god.

But neither did he ever say that he wasn't.

Remaining here feels just as meaningless

as running away.

Would you still be willing

to fight for him?

------

I'd love to see some analysis or something, however brief. If you'd like to do that, go ahead!