This is a story about understanding overcoming compulsion, love overcoming revulsion; and oneness overcoming abuse. About the rare sort of kind-geniality, and brave-morality; which we all possess but seldom use.
A story about detractors who will be defeated, challenges which will be completed; and principles which will be proclaimed. About acts of persecution, and threats of execution; which will all be constrained.
This is the beginning of Alfred Freeman's story, the beginning of a life full of glory; and the beginning of Alfred himself. Because Alfred is being born, in his human form; with peaceful-eyes and perfect-health.
The year is 1897.
An Italian Entrepreneur is sending the first ever seaborne wireless-message using his telegraph-machine, an Irish Schoolteacher is building the first ever engine-powered submarine; and an American Inventor is patenting his pencil-sharpener too. In India a famine is leaving the population angered, in Russia some politicians are adopting the gold-standard; and in America a marathon is being launched beneath skies which are blue. Whilst the British fight in Southern-Africa and Benin, where they hope to win; and stage a belligerent-coup.
But Alfred is only focussed on being born, serenaded by this raucous-storm; and this riotous-gale. This gale which is dazzling-deafening-and-dark, as it uproots those trees in that park; and covers them all in hail. As it sends forth this thunder which is frightening, and this lightning; which flashes on a supernatural-scale.
The animals in that barn are in a state of manic-dissatisfaction, manic-distraction; and manic-disarray. Owls cuddle to share their body-heat, a cat feeds her kittens some meat; and a horse begins to neigh. Sheep begin to hurry, chickens begin to scurry; and a donkey begins to bray.
A white-moon pierces a black-sky, as light pours down from up high; where Jupiter is in conjunction with Saturn. It reflects off this water-vapour, and that torn-newspaper; to create a celestial-pattern.
This pattern covers Alfred's Mother who is wearing two cotton-frocks, and two pairs of cotton-socks; with her hair in the pompadour-style. With braided-tresses which reach her waist, and a genteel-face; which features a genteel-smile.
She eats her way through this overripe-fig, cleans her teeth with this shredded-twig; and gets into her single-bed. She lies beneath these layered-sheets, and gazes out at those sodden-streets; with a pillow beneath her head.
Having already dreamt of angels who cloaked her in flowers, holy-spirits with magical-powers; and an elephant with a silver-trunk. This is the moment she has dreamt about, because her firstborn son is coming out; atop this silver-bunk.
She does not feel her contractions shake, her waters break; or her cervix become dilated. She just lies here feeling light, bright; secure-satisfied-and-sated.
So whilst outside there is stormy-pain, stormy-rain; and lightning which strikes the ground. In here there is peace, this sense of release; and this light which spreads around.
These curtains part after a few more seconds, this thunder beckons; and Alfred steps into the world. His Mother feels lighter than air, without a care; as Alfred is now unfurled.
As he acknowledges his cue, without much ado; and enters onto this stage. As he makes his debut-bow, with a soppy-brow; and begins his latest-age.
Without being coerced, he steps into the world feet-first; as if he is ready to walk through life. Unconscious of conventions, unaware of pretensions; and unaffected by earthly-strife.
Raindrops sparkle in the moonlit-sky, and perfumed-blossoms float on by; as this storm begins to die down. As that donkey goes to sleep, and those birds begin to cheep; with an angelic sort of sound.
All is now tranquil and all is now bright, all is now peaceful and all is now light; all is now clear-cool-and-calm. Alfred has been born without causing any strain, pain; hurt-horror-or-harm.