A Poor Man's Heart

   Written by Aspen Knudsen/Kitty Moor3, Idaho (United States)

 

Aspen Knudsen, Idaho (U.S.A) 

   Once upon a time there was a king who had the world at his fingertips. His castles spread all throughout his lands, he had beautiful wives in each of them, his stables had the finest of horses and he took many great adventures. He felt like he was above everyone- he scoffed the Buddist monks, walked past the poor and his favorite thing to do was terorize young lovers in his villages.

This particular day he was throwing ripe fruit, with no intentions to pay for the food he was taking from the merchant-who could only watch helplesly fearing for her life. Lovers mid kiss were pelted by squishy bananas. Lovers holding hands were smacked by the king, as he declared there would be no public affection.   Lovers who were laughing would have the rude intrusion of being asked whats so funny, usually ending in awkard silence.

He went home quite pleased with himself. That was until he met his final set of lovers. The two laughed, held hands, and kissed walking with complete merriment.

The king was out of fruit and was outraged by their love. Nearby sat a bucket full of manure from one of the stables. He threw it and laughed heartily, but stopped when he heard something unexpected.

He was use to tears, he was use to screaming, he was use to yelling. He was not use to laughter. He stared at the lovers bewildered.

They pointed at eachother and laughed. They threw manure at eachother. They kissed. Then they walked past the king- holding eachother closer then before.

That night next to his mistress his dreams were haunted by the lovers. They were so poor, so dirty, so unlike him. Yet he had never been held like that woman had held that man, as equally he’d never felt the desire to hold someone that close. He’d never experienced happiness before and he couldn’t understand why, he seemed to have everything after all.

Days went by and the king was seen less and less in the kingdom. When he was seen he kept to the shadows, not bothering any lovers. News spread through the kingdom that the king had died after weeks went by without seeing him.

The truth was the king was very much alive. The king had left his successor a note saying he was sailing off to sea never to be seen again. He went away for many years living as a hermit, trying to find this secret to happiness.

He was not use to serving himself, begging, or sleeping on the streets. He fought many people, expecting them to treat him like the royal blood he was. At nights he’d think about his actions, realizing the people had no clue who he was. He wasn’t quite sure then- why a title could place one man’s life over another’s. He was after all technically still a king, even if nobody knew it.

Still entirely sure that the key to happiness came from poverty and love he attempted to find a wife. In his years away he fell in love three times. The first woman was swooned by his good looks, much like his mistress, but upon realizing just how little he had she left. The second woman had many husbands and played his heart like a fiddle. And by this time he had developed quite a drinking problem. The final woman was cruel and made him drink more, also eventually leaving him as he was too much of a drunkard.

After this the once powerful king who had everything and felt so happy before became very emotionally  distraught. Because you see, before he met the lovers he felt very happy and powerful indeed. Thats when a group  monks passed. One stopped and handed the king, who was sulking on the ground, a bowl of steaming porage.

The king cried and ate, as in this moment he was feeling so poor. The monks he mocked helped him when he had never helped another a day in his life. The monks offered to take this poor man back to their temple to be in the prsence of The Enlightened One. For a full moon cycle the king found himself becoming one of them and loving it.

In the Enlightened One’s presence the king healed his heart and learned of chakras and sacred energy. He ate healthy foods, stopped drinking and serviced the temple while singing merily. When the month was over the king still felt sad and by this time The Enlightened One had heard his story. The Buddha told the king he must return home.

Sad to leave this life behind, but sure The Enlightened One knew what he must to next, the king went home. He still was poor, but he carried with him a new strength he’d never had before. He had learned many things and became a kinder man, his travel home was very pleasant.

As he came upon his villages, now much different then before spiritually and physically, he noticed his lands had also changed. People seemed happier, the landscapes more vibrant, lovers held eachother, and everything seemed so much better off without him.

At this he became depressed but remembering his teachings he did not return to his old ways. Instead he wandered the countryside admiring what was once his kingdom. He loved what it had become, and also what he had become.

One day he’d crossed almost all the villages in the kingdom and came to one he hadn’t been to since he was a child, when his father was showing him what he’d inherit one day. The village brought back a nostalgia and he decided to visit the pub for a pint.

He couldn’t say why but that particular pub seemed to be calling him in. He really didn’t want to drink but the flavor sounded good and it tasted as refreshing as the porage had all those years ago. Thats when a warm hand placed itself on his shoulder.

It had been so long since he’d felt a touch he flinched, but when he turned around he was greeted by a pair of beautiful long forgotten eyes. It was a girl he’d played with that day in the village but she was no longer a girl and he was no longer a man or a king. He wasn’t sure why she, in a beautiful dress, would approach him. She bought them a round.

The man laughed like he’d never laughed before. He smiled though his face was hurting. Even in this happiness he thought of the lovers he’d hurt and the lovers who had hurt him.

He had nothing to offer this woman, he still liked his drink, and he had no clue if this woman was married or not. Though he decided to stick around the village and get to know the woman. Their chemistry was something that scared him so he kept his heart at bay, but worked a job and they continued to see eachother.

He got to know her soul and fell more in love with the woman. He found out she had never married, always thinking about the boy she’d played with that day. She wondered if he’d ever come back or if he’d even be the same person. Though the now man had nothing and slept in a barn she told him he was an amazing soul.

They held eachother tightly, they kissed, and finally they were married, they drank togther in celebration, had a family and ended up having a very happy life. On the man’s deathbed he smiled. Finally realizing worth is not in what you have but what you give and its never to late to be happy.

Label : Inflame Story

Writer : Aspen Knudsen/Kitty Moor3,Idaho(U.S)