The tale is a continuous spiral that binds our fate to time. It can turn inside on itself and it can listen to everyone. The tale can impress us with ascension and it can lead us into a descent. Let us free ourselves from the tale and let us free ourselves from the story. Let us create a world where only the present is what is important. Let it be a world where no one is bound to a destiny and world where the freedom of choice is the very thread that weaves the shape of space and governs the direction of time.

Through the story of John Henry, I would like to unveil the face of the tale. Through this story I would like to reveal the true intent of a tradition known as storytelling. The story is a machine that we will inevitably resurrect over and over again. While you read the narrative I present, do not be alarmed when the tale looks back at you. It will reveal itself in its true form. The story is the root of all that we hold sacred and it is what we cling to for our precious consciousness to exist. The story is every thing that we love and it is everything that we fear and hate. The story itself is nothing more than a catalyst that is created to bring one to fight their self. It is the reason we bring ourselves to suffer. It is the weight on our shoulders and it is the shackles on our wrists. But never the less, begotten it will cease to exist and further more, we will follow it. Completing in a life what all lives have completed infinitely.

The tale is the mercury that I have consumed. Through my blood it moves within me. The envelope of the past is folded and the future of humanity is set into place. There will be another 2000 cycles of utopian visions as some will search for a metasin and some will search for the truth. Humanity will remain just and they will remain blindfolded in that darkness, fighting each other to the grave of mother earth. All along the truth and the cure is right in front of them. The truth and the cure are the present. The present is a gift of freedom and the present is also a gift of control. From the mother’s womb we shall rise again and again, only to gain nothing more then another death. Let the skies fall upon me now, I have been given a choice for everyone. Humanity is not ready for the truth. Humanity is not ready for the cure. Humanity is not ready to evolve into something that is not human. Relentlessly we search around us looking to the future, when the answers have always been here in the present. Obsessively we memorize the past and perpetually we build a machine that will soon become the shell of that past. Let the present remain a gift that in time you can tell.