Surefooted he began to climb, strong limbed he reached for each strong and new branch. Upward and upward, around and around he made his way, carefully following the living, green side up a tremendous height as the tree grew before him. It was exhilerating to rise. With each movement upward, the fresh air coursed through his chest, he arms felt powerful.
In that moment of triumphant, limitless potential, in that moment when his confidence swelled, a brittle branch snapped beneath his foot. As he felt himself begin to fall, visions swept before him: A crowd of drunken men in a stale, dark room groping the glistening skin of women in ribbons for clothes. He was there as well, clawing at the naked flesh. He had to have it, taste it, hoard it all for himself. He saw men and women in elegant clothes and glimmering jewelery. He saw black, immaculate cars, mansions with room after luxury filled room. He felt that relentless and endless pull toward objects and wealth. Felt that insatiable craving for more. With each purchase, more enslaved to his possessions. He could feel that sense of inadequecy in the constant glare of those that clearly had more than you. He saw a man stumbling down the street, a zombie with a vacuous face and eyes, body of a wrathe, searching for the next hit of methamphetamine. He knew that desperation as well. Everything on earth was empty and grey and unrewarding. Only the next high, that search for regaining that long-lost ecstasy. Below him he felt the open expanse of nothingness as he fell. He saw himself on a filthy floor. Grimey and greasy long hair in a puddle of god-knows-what. An unloved, discarded wreck of human form wasted on the ground. But, catching hold of a living branch, the image of his broken form immediately vanquished. Again, on the tree, upward and upward, a little more reserved, a little more grateful, a little more humble as he climbed.
Far into the sky by now, he rested a moment and looked around. It was marvelous. At once, peaceful and grand. He could see far, far in all directions. Hills and even great mountains below him, towns and even cities stretched out before his untrammeled vision. But as he rested the branch in his hand became brittle and unyielding. It would soon give way. Desperately looking for where to secure himself, he saw that what was once so firm had now decayed. A loud snap and again he felt the terror of falling. More dreaded visions assailed him. A child with a pure, but agonized face, distended stomach from a lack of nutrition. An old man clawing at his stomach in distorted pain. A woman with no hair and a frail, gaunt frame. Torn flesh, broken bones, sores, burnt and blackened skin. All crumbling, all decaying, all breaking down and failing. He felt it within himself. His body weakening, pain rousing from the depths. Cancerous cells twisting and distorting him. His muscles weakening, his joints calcifying and stiffening. He saw himself in a small white bed in a small room. Weak. Immobile. Helpless. Alone.
A new voice came to him:
Do you know where you are?
