The Messiah

Somewhere deep within the jungles of Saint City lived a man who dwelt inside a boy. He had a vast appetite. Devoured books for breakfast and often took them with his tea. Sometimes we made fun of him when he chewed. He chewed like a goat you see. Dwelling on every thought like it was his last meal. It is not polite to bring up your food so he kept most of it inside. Until there was too much in his head and nobody understood.
We could see each other you see. I looked at him, and he into me. I believed in him. Those were the best times of my life; a melting pot of two wandering souls. Although he was gone far deeper than any of us had been. Often I wondered if he knew that I was there. Well, nearly there if all things are considered.
But there is no space for a man in this world, let alone inside a boy. I watched him try to stretch out his limbs, lift his head to Horus so his soul could be set free.
There is no room for a man inside a boy. Yet he grew and he grew until he was too much of a man. He had to drain himself out somehow. He regurgitated his tea like a man deranged. Drools and spools of secrets from caves unfathomable to most. I had no doubt that he could understand. Spoke in tales and fables you could chew on for days.
They soon removed him from the city; there simply was no room.
Oh when will I ever see my boy again? Every now and then I think I hear him whisper, “Zizipo, beware the bird of prey. Beware the bird of prey”.