My little cove in the bay of insanity.

[thought_on_a_wind]

Aloft these endless seas depths unfathomable, and around this little isle I pace thoughtfully, restlessly, and mindlessly all in the same moment. This isle of mine has a shrine in the southern most quarter devoted to the ancestors of both the clan on my Dad's side, and the presidents on my Mom's side.

This isle is all of the abandon of a man that has purged the depths of insanity and found a warm cozy nook there as a summer home... Well, I suppose it could be a winter home too, or maybe it isn't... Either way, at the northern most tip one will find my humble cottage with fire pit, a continual supply of my favorite Scotch (Isle Of Jura at the moment), and an anti-time device established for the pause and contemplation.

In the middle is where I lay all the tools a madman is likened to have. A pen, foremost as it is increasingly easy to record ones madness when they have the proper writing utensil with a tad bit of paper. Where is my altar for the Gods/Goddesses? The world is the altar, and enjoying it respectfully is more than enough to show ones respect and reverence (if ever there was some to have).

Anything else on this island other than what I already mentioned changes as my thoughts moods change, and as such my company usually changes whenever it wants (this also depends on how many [if any] of my extra personalities want to make themselves known]).

What kind of devotions, chants, prayers, meditations and the such go on on my island? Depends on what the road says...

More to come as I start to get used to the idea of a virtual sacred space.

[thought_on_a_wind]

In the beginning the ancients were new. In the end those that are considered new will be ancients. In between we are left to discern who is an ancient, and who is new, however easy this task seems to be, there is inherent a problem spawned by the human condition.

Namely, it boils down to experience, someone who is old and does not accept change is newer than a seeker that accepts the current circumstances as they occur. The reason for this assumption hinges on the acceptance that when a pool of water or air stagnates all it spawns are viruses and parasites that just want to attach to others, sucking the life energies out of their victims.

In other words, someone who is an ancient, but does not continually strive to learn is as detrimental to the health of others as someone that knows not what they do.

[thought_on_a_wind]

A note to the spirits I've not seen in a while potrayed in prose in the center of my ever-changing isle.

In times past I have neglected to accept those things you've done for me.
These are the things that I rarely stop to see.
In between a rock and a hard place.
You have always been by my side to save me from disgrace.
In happenstance that is a matter of my opinion.
You have saved me from the gaping maw that is oblivion.
How can one such as I begin to express.
The amount of devotion you've had in my progress.
All I can promise is to start to learn.
From those hints you have promised I will some way or other discern.

3rd eye so long ago I so forcefully shut.
Will once again be opened I swear to thee.
Oh great Guide my teacher John.
Oh Great Ancestor to all that I've learned whose name I utter not.
Oh Wonderful companion of the spirit who has on more than one occasion protected me in battles of defense.
I have once again awakened (if naught but a second)
And once again devote my attentions to realms obscure
To walk the road once again.
The Tao as described as the paths blazed anew and old as time itself in the same breath, I beseech to learn once again what I've already known.

Blessed be to all the spirits in my life that have helped me.
Your names be forgotten, but your actions forever remembered.

[thought_on_a_wind]

The heart that beats upon a chair of apathy and regret.
Loathing ever the moment to be set back in motion.
So long ago I accepted the role of eccentric.
So long ago I accepted my insanity.
That most crucial of powers in my universe.
With it comes strength.
With it comes sight.
With it comes knowledge.
Yet at the cost of analyzing fact from fiction...
It still demands respect because of the devotion of will that can be had from the depths.

Assaults against common sense and logic are the norm when one considers just what common sense and logic truly imply.

When we look at this world around us, the innate tapestry woven from this world to the next.
We can accept just how crucial anything is.
Or isn't.
Depending on who sees the tapestry incarnate,
Or if they see it at all.
Truly, some don't see it as a tapestry at all.
Others don't know what to make of those things that are right in front of them.

Is this what the world is made of?
Confusion?
What is the only constant in this realm aside from death?
Order, or Chaos?
Is Chaos in and of itself not the order that life decides to utilize?
Order as defined by humans is simply that, a generalized term used to make sense of a world that doesn't really care if we understand it or not (as it has many other things to be concerned with that we cannot fathom).
It is instead the meaning we interpret in the Chaos that a true system of order can occur.

*I say this from the comfort of my tent, staring reluctantly into the fire, sipping my 12 year old Isle, speaking to a spirit who might or might not care*

[thought_on_a_wind]

*The fire is now lit, a shell I add to the pyre, as the new flesh welcomes the fresh air*

Fire to purify.
Air to revive.
Water to cleanse.
Earth to stabilize.
Spirit to empower this new form as it has countless times before.

The energy is the will.
The will is the intent.
The intent resides within the mind.
The mind dwells where it will.
The astral is where the minds usually paces.
That is where I learn all these new faces.
Time pauses as the altar before me shatters, rending my beliefs to the core.
Indiscernably altering my reality to sync with the fate I've naught the oppurtunity to divine!
The pulse of the energy enters this form, ready to change me once again.
Wings sprout forth where once before there were stubs.
Reptillian in appearance, the muscles and sinew move comfortably once again.
I see a sword, simple in design, rested before me.
It beckons me pick it up, though I hesitate remembering all too well how it was used before.
I promise the promise of the sacred.
It will not follow that path a second time.
The armor I don with none of a second thought.

"Take the world by storm and fire only if you are aware of the consquences oh padfoot."
An oh so familiar voice says.
That voice being my blind ego, hungry for more reassurances he will not get.
Action without thought is either foolhardy or brave.
The former is truer in concerns to what I did so long ago.
Binding myself.
Sometimes the one it is hardest to gain forgiveness from is ones own self.
In this I have suceeded by leaps and bounds.
Yet None more!!
The sword I hold in my hand must be used for the defense of those that be harassed by that loathesome creature that is oh so predictable
Ego of the narcissistic
Privelege of the "nobility".
N'er shall I rest since that task is never accomplished.
That is my curse, that is my flaw.
That is the connundrum that attaches to my ego.

[thought_on_a_wind]

So strong a thought for so weak an answer.
What in this world is not true if everything has its roots in reality?
A perception can be based in delusion.
But that delusion has some bearing in truth.
Though the truth only be that the one thinking the delusion is delusional,
Still it bears worth pondering- if only briefly- with all delusions there had to have been something observed to set the cogs to motion.
The greatest question then is which part is the truth of the matter, and which is purely fabrication by the defense mechanism inherent of the observer or the proclaimer?

Another question I ponder much in conjunction with the one above is, who has the right to clearly and devoutly naysay someone else based upon what a bit of parchment scribbled with things arcane portends?
Was that parchment once new and the author failing of their own delusions?
When should one decide to depart from the parchment all together as with time, the wheels of humanity sings the same song in a new key.
That new key both changing everything, and altering nothing.

If what I say makes no sense to anyone else, at least it makes sense to me, which I daresay is the only important thing.

[thought_on_a_wind]

Oh great spirits of the wood and glen.
I start to walk again.
Lend me the guidance I have so intuitively used in the past.
Strive, I will, to make it last.
Help me help those who need helping.
As this road requires an un-biased light every once in a few miles.
I claim not to know anything.
And try best to be a mentor only when I'm sufficient for the task.
Help me access the wild side in a way as to help those around and abound.
For weeks, months, years, I've known myself, yet known not what road I should walk.

I guess there lies the answer.
Walk.
If I happen upon the path meant am I to take.
I'll know it or be obliviously following it anyway.
In the end, hope that I might to do a deed of some prominence and power for humanities sake, I suppose that till that point vague reassurances are all that I can look to for inspiration.

[thought_on_a_wind]

Lo and behold the Eyes of the many sparing a moment to stare away from the thing that glows. Inperceptably registering those things that go on in every day life. I welcome the image of a people who once again pay attention to the things that matter, and not the superficialities that come from faux-importance in tow.

What are those things that are important aside the obvious eating breathing and drinking?

In rapidity I speak my mind to echo off the walls of some room I have yet to accompany.
1. The self high low and in the middle, for without the three sated, no endeavors to help other may be fruitful.
2. Family- if you can't live with them, at least you can understand what you should and should not do for your own broodlings once they be borne.
3. The understanding that things aren't always what they seem. Unless they are, in which case it would be best to understand the such.

[thought_on_a_wind]

Falling in the dark of night.
I awaken a beaten and bruised man.
Stark view of reflections infallible ability to tell the truth.
Who is this man that stares back into these feral eyes?
In terms of recognition, I am null.
For so long ago those eyes were but infant with knowledge plenty.
Now to merely digress to the point of somone older and feeling empty.
Who am I?
The question works itself into the mantra Why?
And the answer comes with the chill of my spine.
I am myself.
Regardless of what kind of life lived I,
That is something I cannot take away from me.
For these feral eyes staring back at me were once unknown to this person.
Till that day I discovered them looking back through the glass.
Yet, that does not help the regrets that still slink around like unwanted but uncontested guests.
Those things a rudimentary part of the self does not want to forget.
Enabling a crippling highland rage overtake me in my sleep.
Growling deeply the beast.
Convulsions, and fits of grinding teeth.
Wish that I had taken the bullet instead of him.
I was the protector of that party.
I neglected my duty.
Many lives have I known war.
Facing it on the frontlines, and fleeing from its arrival.
Yet never was there a fiecer war than the one within.
That part that still thinks that I sinned.
In contemptuous pause I must forgive the one that needs the most healing.
Myself.
Seems like such a lonely road because of it.
That I must face on my own, this daunting peril of famine of my confidences.
Blessed Be Self.
I plead, forgive me.

(dedicated to a friend of mine that died naught but 30 ft. away from me. W. B. W. 1985-2004 you're life was not forgot, may you drink forever in the halls of Valhalla)

[thought_on_a_wind]

Deep thoughts of fermenting glows and lows.
Of things mixed high and low.
What importance should be given to what one knows?

Every rule has its exceptions.
Life can subside without oxygen (lungfish suspended in the drys of a riverbed)
Yet what kind of life is there to live if one does not constantly question ones own views?
There are things to be gleaned from sources previously unknown.
As this universe with which we associate has many a side yet to be known.
And this 'tis another day.

[thought_on_a_wind]

*Southern tip of my isle Tartan family colors of war and peace bared with pride*

Per Mare Per Terras.
Those words ring through this golem of flesh and bone.
A phrase of defiance set forth by my ancestors, and held to this day on the Isle Skye and beyond.
Through thick and thin.
The massacre of Glencoe, bean sidhe wailing so shrill.
We've conquered and held.
Fought to respite.
A rough yet refined power all it's own that fights sternly with the power of the Highlands.
Such is my pride.
Such is my willing folly.

[thought_on_a_wind]

Little did I know just what was implied by thinking for myself. It isn't just an orchestration of individuality... it isn't what you wear, what tattoo you get, where you've got what peircing... it isn't what book you read, which faction you are/aren't with. Nay... I used to believe that. Alas, I was mistaken... it doesn't even hinge on what music you listen to or what interests you. Nay, anyone is capable of this act. All it truly entails is questioning what you are told, and weighing it against what you feel and then arbitrating a solution to balance the two out.

For somone born of nothing but ideals is most likely going to be a serial killer.

[thought_on_a_wind]

*I move to the eastern outskirts of my spiritual isle (if no man be an isle, at least my spirit is) to beseech the infinite wisdom of the Man O' Wise.*

Say to him I this "O great wise man who rests so learnedly before me, I need guidance on what lessons I should occupy myself with"
He to me "Are you rested comfortably o' youngeyes?
Myself to him "Most certainly so."
Wise man replieth "Start out by standing on one foot whilst waving your hands in the air and biting your tongue till you draw blood. Once the blood astart's flowin' pour some lye on it. Once you have accomplished that task speak to me..."
Willingly and readily I complied, though I will admit that the lye had a certain bite to it. When all of these things were accomplished I said to him "WZZMNANAN!! EEIIEII CCNNTT TLLLKKK!! HOWWAFEZ IZ SK QSSTIOMMZ?"
Wise man "So, I see that you have accomplished my task. Now that I have your undevided attention, and you cannot comfortably interject me of oh the infinite wisdom of the material and immaterial, you may now truly listen as you hop on one foot."
"What did you plan on gleaning from me?" "npPLTYZZZZ" "Oh, so you were attempting to get me to do your homework for ye ay? Listen now.... WHY should I teach you those things you are currently trying to teach yourself? Learn your own lessons, and I will talk to you minus the lye... good day, I'm off to the salt baths."
He teeters off leaving me jilted at his implications... and a painful burn in the region of my mouth as well...

[thought_on_a_wind]

Which is the heinous of the three? The gun, The blade, or the catepillar?
.... got it yet?
No?
The catepillar, it's a living being, and of its own free will can do things most heinous, like grow into a moth and eat my favorite shirt. The gun and the knife both have practical purposes, it is the mis-use of the owner (the one with life) that makes either or these implements heinous. If you blame one of these for deaths you might as well blame the sun for skin cancer, the air for rusting things, and water for drowning people.

[thought_on_a_wind]

In between this realm and the next, there is an isle I have avidly mentioned recently. In it there are things that may or may not turn a sane man insane (depending on that persons constitution and will power)

But what is not too widely known is that there is a sanctuary within the sanctuary. This place I roam all too much. In and of itself everyone visits this place every once in a blue moon, most wise-men of the past and present would rather call this place home than they would a 3 story mansion with all the deluxes, vestments, and restitutive inducing pleasures that any amount of money can buy.

The name of this inner domicile- repleat of anything save a pad to sit upon and a pool in the center of the cave- is the pool of reflection; variously called the area of contemplation, or despair. It is where a mad-man dreams of the annihilation and the brilliant philosopher sits avidly to listen to the Universe speaking through them.

For those that know not the name, or feel that we are accompanied someplace else, the title reads "Epiphany" "Chagrin" and "Realization" (some might point out that realization and epiphany are one and the same, however, you have to realize that you've had an epiphany, otherwise epiphany in and of itself has no meaning [like three quarters of the presidential candidates I might add])

I sit willingly idle at the very rim of this oh so lucidly vivid pool watching what would pass by.

When a phrase turns into words, those words given life and a face I cannot describe speak to me, and entice, that enticement leads to the need to channel, so that is what I do. Pen in hand and notebook in tow, I write down these things that run through my head blankly

"Through think and thin, old and new. I have been felt in the ages through. Though gods doth take notice of my existence, they merely nod and walk away. What are these things that I non-vocally say? Live this next day with all the power of a dragon with the finesse of a dancer, and the patience of a grand-mother, and the world in its own right will open up to those that wish to follow along the path of the wild."

Do these words truly hold any relevance? Know, I do not, as they are as new to you as they are to me.

Sated at the moment, I relenquish my post and start to walk crampedly to the door of doors that leads outside to fresh air, and light aplenty. Only to be met by the one whose face flitted within the waves inside. His stare, having the intensity of a neutron star about to burst forth in all the fury of a newly collapsed black hole, speaks in a tongue that isn't a tongue, but is all the same

"I am father time. I overwatch everything in this universe. I've seen gods rise and fall, whole races and solar systems cease to exist. I have been to the birth of every being in this dimension. Yet of all the things I find most interesting, it is how those of finite try to comprehend me and my kind by simple markings etched on the stone that is not lifeless, but knows a slower existence. Most of the me, these same beings start to think that they can escape me like they sometimes can my cousin Death. That by going so fast, I will simply not exist. I enjoy the chase, but it always ends the same, they are caught, and depending upon my mood they may or may not make it back from whence they came, although mostly I would rather sit back and see what is so important that they should try to skip out on paying me my offering. The advice I would impart upon your fragile mamalian mind is that in order to learn anything at all you should first ignore everything until I sink into the very core of your concious, once that side of the matter is accomplished, Learn everything around you that is at all possible anew until you forget about me completely, then and only then can you truly escape my observances."

With that he did cease to exist more than walk away, and had not set foot in the cave before (that is a luxury of being time I suppose, decide exactly where and where not you belong without ever worrying about the discovery or when you should do anything.)

[thought_on_a_wind]

upon a horizon blackened by the night... peer I do at a golden light. Upon that crescent pure and true there is just enough cloud to produce a halo, but not obscure the view... on the distant hill where the moon now rests, an owl hoots on Earth Mothers chest... if ever there was an hour for witches to feel pure... this would be the one showcasing with such allure.

I don't know if that really did any justice to the perfect scene accompanying the outside of my door from the front porch, but it was worth a try because a camera surely wouldn't have done the trick.

[thought_on_a_wind]

From the depths of a violent volcano I now rest upon the roots of mountains to renew what was once lost to me...

Sanity?

No.
Clarity?
Never, clarity has a way of making itself apparent after someone bites the dust or when an infant gasps its first breath.

Nay, I stand now before the boiling blood of mother pure wishing to invoke once again the spark that died out so long ago.

"On the land, and by the sea.
I wish to invoketh thee.
Oh ancient power so full of life still.
Please listen to my plea's and urge my will.
Many a day have I traveled rocky desert on nub and foot.
Upon sore torn knees, and ragged clothes embellished with soot.

For 'ere do I wish to walk upright again.
Yet the travesty is I know not when.
The last time I traipsed carelessly through open glen.
Soothe this old soul.
Empower it again.
Living to see death in all of its manifestations.
I'm sure you understand my dismal frustration.

Such vexing news to see so many die so young.
Is it my curse to be forced to live in their stead?

Is it true what they say?
The good die young?

Too taken by the silence and beaten by the answers.
This is why I sing my songs.
And have interred myself in muddy bogs.
For that vitality has been quickly fading.
A young man wrested of youth forced to see things as one does at the ripe old age of 80.
"
I walk away from said volcano sapped of the rest of my store of vitality...

Unable was I to finish rightly my incantation...
Now I'm tired...
Yes...
Sleep...
Too bad I know that it isn't the great sleep...
but, I guesss that it never comes when

you
want
it
to.....

[thought_on_a_wind]

Though this is a rarity in my world. I pay homage now to a god that is above all other gods. One who's omnipotent contributions can leave one in the most cheery of moods, or stricken with afflictions ought not be mentioned here. He is The One!! There are no others before him.

Which God? No, nothing christian. Try harder... Nothing Judeo... Give up?

Goibniu.

Why? Forge mastery and beer make for a winning combo. He is omnipotent because beer is everywhere and forges are still paramount forms of production in this days society (though I will admit that a greater portion of the forging nowadays is autonomous in nature... which means there is more time to sit back and sip that beer or mead :D)

Much can be gleaned in reflection when sipping on a cool beer after a hard day in the forge (metaphorically speaking of course, that is, unless you are a blacksmith). Though some would say the phrase "Work hard, Play hard" is atrociously skewed in it's public perception, none can lay fault at the doorstep of letting loose every once in a lonesome. I'm of the firm opinion that if more people idly conversed over a cool beer than fighting over the nitty gritty "opposition" there would be a modicum of peace in the world.

So many times in this fast paced era of emails, appointments and perpetually compounding debt/slave labor we're forced to endure on a daily basis do we get so caught up in things, that when that sliver of R&R comes about and blesses us, we don't know what to do with it.

What should you do? Go out and blow a couple bucks at your local watering hole? Go out and buy stuff that our ancestors would've thought of as gaudy and wasteful? How about walking in the tick-ridden woods to fight the fury of mosquito bites and potentially those of snakes?

The truth of the matter is more oft than not, we get so entangled in the go here to hurry there and get back to the gas-station before the price rises another $10.00 scenario that this negative thinking permeates our free time. Leaving a greater portion of the working class either zonked or a nervous wreck. This leads to thought processes like the examples paragraph previous.

This is why I'm paying homage to Goibniu. Through his skillful mastery of forge and brew he represents a bridge, a balance between the two. It's this balance I feel we should all strive for, as that would truly lead to healthier productivity. Yet what are these words coming out of my mouth but mere utterances of nothing.

Blessed be the properly consumed beer; for merry are the times when you can afford the luxury of time for the purposes of the consumption.

[thought_on_a_wind]

The word Me.
The word I.
The word (insert your name here... for me Tom will suffice).

What do these words really mean?
Do they signify a textbook definition of the person using them?
Are they a list of convictions the user attaches them to?

In essence: what makes you?
What defines a person?
Is it a laudry list of actions past, present & future?
Is it the importance we afford ourselves?

Or is the answer more scientific?
Is the illusion of self the problem?
Are our actions simply pre-dertimined before the conscious mind has a chance to mull it over?
If so what does that mean of destiny versus freewill?

Are we actually going by what our heart tells us we are, or what our brain hears from others on the subject?

What level of importance should we strive to maintain in regards to others and thier sometimes ill-percieved views?

I ask a bunch of questions I've not intention to answer. I'd rather feel who I am than logically work it out first.

So many times we typify ourselves and other people by what we wear, what title is tacked onto whose name or what our view of someone elses belief is (i'm not speaking beliefs discriminatorily hostile in nature mind you), so forth and so on to such an extremity that we end up losing sight of ourselves... the true definition to the word.

I am me because that's who I am, any beliefs I hold are ones I agree with, and I'm aware that as a human, any endeavor I meet will carry my own signature style. The defintion of self can only be had if you can look yourself in the mirror and accept first whatever you may percieve as a downfall.

~quoth the wind.

[thought_on_a_wind]

Moon ever swimming aloft on cloudy whisped skies.
Glowing down and channeling the spirit necessary to lift my sails.
'Tis true that for the last couple of months I've neglected her...
My mother in orbit.
Relaying and reinterpretting the suns violent rays into something so intoxicating,
It's rightly called her own.
I've been sailing hither and to and fro in this ocean of despair.
Missing my isle.
Hah! A son of Donald without his isle!
So meaningless I've felt.
So empty and devoid of the warm glow of my burning insanity.
Fires oft glance from time to time upon that isle,
A call, a response that I'm yet to come back, but that it's not simply drifted off to oblivion.
In these scathing seas I've narrowly avoided the worst of the storm... or so I think I've faced the worst.
But to my abandoned will and against all hopes a dolphin makes itself known upon the salty waters yon.
Reminding me that all I've fought for, all I've failed at is nothing that I'm struggling through alone.
And that this dolphin and wonderful silvery moon will guide me to my island, in the cove... all that I've previously cared about and known.
The world she doth span more miles than I'd ever hope to walk.
But for her size and my lack thereof she also does talk.
"Son of Donald, many generations removed"
"Why do you sulk around and curse me whenever it behooves?"
"Those battles in your past are rightly left behind."
"To dwell upon them too much is to render yourself blind."
"Blood's been spilled many times before."
"Yet you seek to crucify yourself. Stop this, I implore."
And so I start to sail back to my now joyful shores.
But to rest this boat upon the land is a fallacy I can't ignore.
For to tether it to a palm abustle with simian activity.
Is to let it fester, let it rot, apart from it's common relativity.

I stare around and see my tent of which it's been such a time since I've spent,
Sitting before this sentinel fire sipping lavishly at my wonderful bottle of Scotch Isle of Jura.

This writing has no meaning, nothing I write is supposed to make sense. This sacred space I've accomapnied is here for me to maintain and remember my cozy insanity.

And the goddess without a formal name, and her husband...
As well as my distant ancestor. Donald of Islay king of the isle's.
And presidents of prominence in the form of not one, but both Roosevelts.
May I carry the torch on both sides.

Blessed be.

[thought_on_a_wind]

In the midst of my isle, far removed from the comfort of the cove, I hear a calling.
One with which I'm vaguely familiar.
The name has to be there, but I just can't seem to place it...

Of course, Death needs no other name.
None save its own would fit.
It's a timeless name, is easily identifiable, and just fits the thing right.

I'm neither happy nor frightened at the swimming visage before me.
Were he to be taking me I'd know.
He stares, and stare I back.
It's a moment of a million conversations, but one that never truly takes place.

In meeting Death in a somewhat neutral sort of fashion, I should be asking things like.
"Whassat the other end ay?"
or
"Is there an end?"
or
"Does Terry Pratchett have a copyright or other legal protection on you?"
or maybe even
"Why'd you have to take Democracy... I'd have bet a couple more years could've been squeezed out of it."
and of course, there are deeper questions like
"Jerry Falwell died... why the hell haven't you taken Pat Robertson so the Televangelist WonderTwins (TWTS or TWiTS) could unite in some strange hell where everyone's an evolutionist Teletubby lover and the court continually shreds ID and approves gay marriage; raising the American Middle Finger of Justice towards these Constitutional layers of the shit?"

Oh, there were a lot more... many more... serious ephanistic questions that I dare not utter till my answer is found. Regardless... that answer did not come.

"I am Death. I take those in pain. Lay end to the weariness and help them back onto their feet. I'm hated, cursed, spat upon, defiled by proxy, feared and relished. I am as welcome as a morning dove upon a morning sill, and as loathed as a tax collector during bad harvest. I've been called a plague, and proferred as a gift. Many feel that they rule me, that does not last long. This is not my job, this is who I am. I escort weary souls back home to the comforts of the hearth.

Think me vile, think me putrid, but all I am is a doorkeeper."

Somehow, I wasn't certain how to feel after Death vanished... but I most certainly felt alive... in a clear leveled sort of way. Liberated...
___________________________
<~|Death Be Just The Doorkeeper|~>
-------------------------------
remember that when the pain be too much.
It might just help you remember some of the niceties the other side of the veil has.

[thought_on_a_wind]

So surprisingly I now walk towards the middle of my isle.
As I go I light some Dragons Blood incense.
It's pungent aroma a reminder of my task at hand.
I walk along, smoke thinly streaming in my wake.
My destination is my Altar, it's place is beside the entrance to the pool of reflection.
As I go I ask my spirit guides and animal guides/companions to meet me there with the utmost care in stipulating it as a request, not a command.

In reverence I pick up the family tartan and claymore.
Bearing a ceremonial shield and salt of the sea tied to the belt in a pouch.

I move forward my will determined to see this through.

As I go towards my destination I see the world around me sort of fade.
No longer is there the rolling hills, nor the semi-tropical landscape.
The Altars to the North and South all but faint memories such is the focus of my will.

At last I reach this place of ritual.
Meeting me there is my spirit guide John.
The Dragon who's name is his but responds to Draco (all references of the movie aside please)
Too there is my once fellow warrior Gramel.
Berserker he be, but one that actually can be quite civil given the opportunity.
My spiritual colleague/mentor Mojo paces somewhat restlessly as is a tiger's habit around others.
A faint image, translucent but concrete glimmers above my Altar.
This is the spirit of an ancient life.
He lead a war, I feel it now.
We are one, but several lives removed.
Two sides of the same spectrum.

The isle now nothing but a reminiscent after thought.
The scene before me is one of drifting through the galaxy.
I feel the power of a million million stars now.
Pulsing through me.
Empowering me.
Strengthening my weaking resolve.
Erasing the illusion that was my depression.
My mind focuses.
I don my anscetral apparel tartan colors: green field, blue midground, and thin stripes red and white foreground.
I heave the Claymore from its resting place, swing it feebily, and again with more refine.

Dragons blood take center stage now on my altar of crimson and hunter green tinted marble.

I look around and nod to my various acquaintances.
This be my place, this be their's.
The universe, she pulses.
Receptive and waiting.
I pass the long finely hone blade of my Claymore through the incense.
They dance, they merge, they intertwine and separate.
They are one.
With a violence that begets the time it takes someone to think I arc the weapon in a horizontal proficiency I've not felt in centuries.
As I plunge it into the waiting universe it does not scream, it does not hurt.
It just braces the fashioned iron with a comforting solidity that leaves me somewhat puzzled.

"With the universe all around me. My various guides and mentors abound.
And with a ghost of the spirit that was me above, close to my higher-self, I focus my will. This is a time removed from time, a rare occasion where there is concretely a thing as the present. I beseech the focus. I request the borders of this endless circle be watched by the spirits of earth air fire and water. This be the time and the place of my request, so I begin."

"Mother above, below, around within and without I call to you."
"Father without withing, below and above I ask your presence."
"Higher-self, I need your clarity and presence now more than ever."
"Donald, my ancestor and progenitor of my line, I stand humbly within the grasp of the universe. Wishing to pay homage and ask you for advice."

"Please help me with a problem I face right now if you would."

"I have a friend asserting that I move to his abode, since I know no home of my own. For as much as I'd like to believe it coincides my better judgement, I fall short of discerning primal fear from precognitive feelings."
"I wish for help and guidance in the form of my own realization."
"I am in a state of disarray and confusion, taken aback by the various things that have gone wrong in others of my branch of the clan. My mother is physiologically suffering, my father is both physically and mentally suffering. My sister has entrapped herself in her own lies and those she claims to love have fallen as well. My brother is struggling to make ends meet with his newly formed family.
"I ask for strength and rejuvenation."
"I feel an imbalance within myself that has me left without an answer. I stagnate, I falter. I feel useless and less of a person for not having a productive job. I lost my bank account and had the privelege of witnessing all of my $600.00 'stimulus plan' money get sucked up by my creditor to fill a small hole in the increasing interest... nothing paid on the principle."
"I request the guidance in these matters that you would provide me through dreams."
"Finally, I feel a pain amongst the living, one that has manifested in the form of people losing hope. Apathy and frustration. Hopelessness and fear. I see a populace that no longer cares to move it's own muscles without direction third party."
"I ask for guidance on how I can help alleviate the problem productively and with the bounds of my ethics."

These requests I utter, focusing my energy upon the will, feeling the universe strengthen me, run through this vassal that is me. At the climax I hear the promise of this guidance to come through dreams. And the will is released. So mote it be. The universe has it now, I must go and ground myself.

Sitting back at my cottage sometime later, grounded I am. 12 year old Isle has a funny way of grounding you just the way you need.

Thank you all those spirits still in my life. Thank you father and mother, thank you Donald and that spirit that doth fight. Thank you Mojo and Draco, protectors and guides.
Thank you Gramel, for your guidance as well. And thank you John and my higher-self for letting me known when I'm fearing the mundane. Blessed Be all.

[thought_on_a_wind]

yes, though the island be my home, as of late I've been away. Today I feel a pain that I've not felt before... it's one of confusion, frustration and anything else that could be associated legally with the two words.

Tonight I pace the halls of my once grand castle on the mainland. There is no seal, as it fell off as soon as I took my helm from head. As I walk up the castle steps, I still see patrols walking too and fro. As if lost. I'm not in my usual garb of:

silver breastplate, blue dragonscale gauntlets, greaves of silver, sword shining a platinum and ruby gaze, dragonwings sprouting from my back, midnight blue cloak, gleaming pauldrons and half-helm shaped like a tiger- mouth opened.

No, I've donned that armor in a long while... as for why, this dismal confusion, unfocused self that I've become has forgot the pride he once felt in being a warrior... I've always told myself that as a warrior, there would never be a day that I'd quit... and then I did... now seeing my armor once more, the tears sting the eyes misty. I remember that strength... almost as if looking into the past... I've felt apathetic towards all things for so long that I figured the change was permanent.

As I don my raiment, I start to feel that oh so familiar feeling of strength. My eyes open... I see what I've never seen before... hopes dashed at the last possible moment... yes, my warriors cheer, but my internal kingdom (including the isle of my retreat and domicile) has all but decayed. Left to rot... There is a lot of work to do... and not too much time to do it in. I open the door to my throne room, sit down, tilt my helm to the side, and rest my weary head upon my arm...

Heavy be the head that wears the crown of the negligent destructor.

Neglecting my troops has destroyed both morale and their bodies...

Yes, much work must be done indeed.

I return by door of teleportation located behind my throne to the isle of my solitude, this time inviting my comrades to partake in festivities for a while. At least my friends tried not to abandon me (hopefully), though I cost them dearly...

Maybe we could all sit down around the fire sipping on Isle over idle and festive conversation....

[thought_on_a_wind]

I lay on the beach, gritty sand in mouth, barely able to move, the toll of destructive insanity is a steep price to pay for nothing. I lay here partially because of my own choices, I lay here partially because a destructive tsunami cast my boat asunder, I lie here because of an unknown ailment upon my person... the effort to restore my previous self still hanging in tattered threads in the back of my mind.

I inch forward to attempt to reach my hut on the northern side of the isle, not to sip on some wonderful scotch, but to attempt to lift my head again and live. The eyes abound focus on me solely, my vocal chords fiscally cut, they ask me to go down the only road they say is plausible, placing me front and center for there scrutinization, my mind wants to follow but the fear and my continuing ailment stay my hand against my own logic. Where many others go with a supporting group of survivors, I am left alone, my sole benefit that I'm in my familiar territory, yet things are not the same at the moment. I am in my familiar place but am forced to watch it dessicate before me, my hand also stayed by lack of fiscal resources. the world around me seems like white hot iron bars of imprisonment, my dreams cast before me, eviscerated, I yell for help till my throat is raw and my will spent.

No one hears those pleas, I keep them in my head, bleak the road is when you're met with what you percieve as a dead end, a collapsed bridge behind. Of course no one pays mind, the lonely soul isn't supposed to pay attention to feelings or personal aspirations or be able to logically help the family that has lacked utter faith in his doings for so long, he is meant to be a dry corpse, dressed up to be a perfect scapegoat, and though he knows he's no martyr completely, knows that no matter what he says, he will always be counted as wrong. What is positive thinking again?

[thought_on_a_wind]

As I lay there on the isle, a glimmer above makes itself known speaking "Get up my warrior. Your time of rest is upon ye." as I find the strength to rise, a blue energy permeates me, she's here, she's all around, her name is null, she is my mother, goddess from another time, and to deny her request is to damn your soul. "Know that thy life is in the care of myself and your Father. You have fought more than others would have in your earthly situation."

There was a part of my mind that wished to devalidate this, as there were always the suspscions that things of this nature are a mechanism of my mind.. yet I know this is incorrect information.

I stand there, not able to move, stuck of my own weary volition. "Mother, you said to trust you and look what I've done!"

"My son this is not your battle, that is why you cannot do anything. You must rest, let us in, you must accept us completely for the physical healing to begin. Your wife awaits ye in the physical, so does your destiny. Be great. Son listen to me, the physical illness you have is something you must allow us to fix as well, if you would like we can place you in a state to allow this with protections from everything."

"what is the seat of this illnesses power? I've healed myself before but have never been this stricken... ??"

"It is a curse placed upon you by another. This person feeds upon others to feel the strength return to them, he is physically around you, but is vaster in spirit than you might think. My beautiful warrior, you are fully capable of the task once your strength renews, but you must understand that the power incarnate is blocked right now due to things you could not understand. This is why we impart the blessing of fixing an issue that is not yours to heal. Accept our blessing and will the good back into your waking mind and intellect. You have glimpses of the future that are both correct, but there are some that are misleading."

"What be the misleading?"

"You are not meant to fight everyone battle that comes your way. When you were most blessed in battle, it's when you let go your doubt and realized that this was a battle you were supposed to fight, the current one is a battle between forces you have no inclination of serving, nor would we let you. You got entangled in it because of your wont to assist those who you feel are weaker, yet in this you must sit back."

Relentlessly I walk to my encampment, fatigue and the need for a good scotch to ease my mind fresh in my list of wishes. As I lite my pipe and sip Isle of Jura a question arises. "Mother, is this a working of human resistance? Or is this a general entanglement of forces."

"reflect upon this my son, the world around you is set-up to assist you or destroy you, or even to not acknowledge your existence, this is because there is a difference in frequencies between one being and the next, your issue is both your questions, only because the frequencies combatting one another are both very dumb but resourceful. you were not meant to save them, they were meant to test their true ascensions."

I sit longer staring at a horizon with a red sun setting, seagulls playing in the foreground and thin cottony clouds floating in the background. "I've tried rescinding this power, I dare not mention this weakness to too many others because the same advice is "Go see a doctor, or I'll pray for you... Is there not a single healer in the whole of West Virginia???"

"My beautiful son, there are many healers, your view is limited more now than ever before. Just sit back and let us handle the arrangement of a healer."

"Why can you not heal me directly? Why can I not heal myself?"

"We would, but there is another that feels our calling, it is their time to awaken. Through this individual we shall heal you. In the meantime stay where you are and rest, work when you can, but realize that you are one of the few where the universe will always truly provide.:

there are flashes now, one of the cosmos in general, as well as ... a love this insane solitary has never before viewed... I can see it it but cannot relay the information to words... Light, nututing power.... Domicile... Protection, boons, gifts... not just for me but for all... A time not too far from now...

"Know that we are always here, do you give us access to your life completely? Do you trust that your leige's know the best course for you? Are you up to the taks truly and sincerely for the exploration before ye? Tiger, speak these words here, this is as true a place as is the room your are now typing in."

My mind races with anticipation, power running up and down my wounded form, crown chakra open, third eye, strained as it is looking.... "remember this, once you say yes, your soul is devoted."

"with the view of my akashic record keeper, JOhn, and the Dragon's I've know, my old army, and the wandering spirit that keeps visiting this isle seeking the insane, I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that the nine of wands is in the acceptance of this moment... diffusing with a simple yes...

"Yes mother, I do, I accpet these terms, please do what needs to be done, in this my most tiring of moments. Too long have I resisted my higher purpose, too long have I allowed the physical to limit me, too long have I let others define my world, and constraints... Too long have I hidden the sincerity of my spirit behind a masked guise meant to subdue and deter those around me! I accept and am wainting for this journey."

"my son, you are loved, your wife beckons ye, and we will take control, remember this though. Since we have control you will no longer be able to access that doubt regardless how hard your mind attempts. That doubt no longer has rule in your life, it is shed!"

I fall into slumber, she was right, all I need now is a good rest.

Blessed Be Mother and Father

[thought_on_a_wind]

Like a thief in the night I silently approach my target. A transgressor be at the heart of the isle, an ingressor amongst the hidden, holding their charms and hexes, weapons aready but oh so deceitfully deployed. Tis not an outright fight to them as they keep to the shadows they think so tenderly toxic.

An island of solace and insanity with the occasional visitor wishing for random wisdom is no place for this "Dark"... Yet what word do they know? is dark defined as wishing ill will upon another to boost ones ego? Bragging about it? Would it not be better to wear the killing on ones sleeve and isolate the dark till needed? Why do they think they can get away with this?

Impish delusions. in knowing oneself is a god of immensity, one needs not advertise it, just slip the knife in and commence the torturing. Pain, this entity, initiate in the house of foolhardy idiots knows not. I am here, have always been here, there is no dethroning the insane, our physical and mental asylum is our thrown.

Keenly I position my blade at the base of the intruders neck. There is no compassion, no remorse, only the psychotic glee about to be had to end the pain. This entity has festered too long. Yet I've been fighting on their terms. Shold this be? Nay, ought this fool before me play by my rules.

At the very moment I end that aggressor unseen's life, a thought arises, if destruction they claim, destruction they shall receive.... openly. I grab the sckull. throw them to the open. Pursue them no more, they shall throw in their arms and fight me for who I am, and assasin when need be, but oh for the nice bloodily long and painful fight. "Unsmask NOW!!" Yell I "Thou aren't amongst the insane in the way the you believe. You're undersated ego is your insanity, it is a gleefully ignorant insanity. You think you are the power, so let us see, To Arms I command thee!!!"

Hesitantly bewildered the foe unmasks herself, a face naught that I've seen before, yet spying from afar like her sister... who ended up institutionalized... "Seek ye revenge?" "Seek Ye Solace from the voice of rapid anger?" "See not these things in your eyes aside from the surface. Stare deeper and you're driven by claims of supernatural prowess!!" "Think thee a goddess demon, "dark" your friend and trusted ally. What were I say thee "you know no not dark!!" you, encompassed and engorged in delusion enter my realm for fancies and self-fulfilling darkness. I do more than rebuke thee, feel the wrath of an angered and aged warrior sage! Prone to tipsy, prone to turvy, blade the slightest curvy."

"I have lived centuries off and on, seen the worst of humankind, been he worst of human kind, the amount of deaths at my feet only equaled by the amount of lives I've saved. I've killed for a dark deity, I've tortured more than enough in my day, been the orchestrator of a entire families death through guise cloak and dagger, I've assasinated on a whim, for money, and because of fealty to a lord. I've swam in rivers of blood created by me and know the taste of human soul! All these things, yet I do not let those actions sway me, nor do they control all but the following fight. To arms knave, prove this power you claim as I'm immune to your poison."

She unsheaths her sword from it's subdued sheath, readies her armor and disgarbs her robes of night shades "I fight not alone." as other shadows disengage and a sharp pain pulls from my third eye. "I am all around."

If she desires me to seem afraid, especially of an enemy from within, she should have never attempted this attack (as her sister in arms did) to begin with. "That is your solution? You send more in your wake? I do not underestimate my foe, yet I know your depths. Do your best." With that I dis-cloak, revealing my woad-streaked bare chest. I take my 12 inch dagger, black steel kissing the ground, sit cross legged and rest my claymore cross legged upon my lap. Smiling, I start to silently call those parts of me that have been resting for far too long, faint hunter green glimmer playing from the cracks of my eyes, shadows more pronounced. I hear the glint of steel, feel the taste of my own blood. I see the clanks and disgusted cries, as my outershell goes through its tests.

Oh yes I sense these things, the chilling cold of the wraiths attempting to ravage my soul... hitting the pit of emptiness within, fleeing at the anomaly. Yet these things do no matter. I walk along a green field, journey through the trees, am guided a few steps by the wee folk, know the destination is not too far away. I visit this house every once in a few centuries. It is home, it is my shrine within a shrine within a shrine, a small hovel by appearances almost obscured by the glen that surrounds it, my only signifier that of thunderous dragon wings above.

Know I this occupant well, we are the same. "Arkten!" I say as I enter, he hardly notices, too busy with one of his alchemical mixtures and studying the effects of energies. "You could have knocked." A surprisingly young voice answers, "What need you now young one of mine?" Arkten and I share the same soul, borne of different era's a connection hard to break as relapses of previous life floods to the front, curious as we're both living at the same time which prompts the question which is the beginning and the end?

"Only you're consent to unleash our strength with the bulk of my memories and yours." "Only??" "My dear me, you must understand that's quite a tremendous only. Why do you need it?" "For things foolhardy, wreckless, unwise and a bit overkill, but something crucial to blatantly teach a meddlesome issue a lesson."

Arkten flicks at a home-made cigarette of various herbs deep in thought, though one would be hard pressed to venture a guess if my request is his thought... "Well, if it's to be done, you might as well do it right. You have my blessing. Be..." and before Gone could be uttered back on my assailed isle I find myself, dagger deep in my gut. Yet laugh is all that slips through my lips of ecstacy. A familiar surge of memory floods forth, I'm living all those battles, the wall of attack encompassing and consuming, blood tinges my lips, or at least the taste, a dark red glow around, Light crimson in color flow forth from me, time pauses, a half growl half cackle escapes my lips. A grin with sharpened pronounced canines is produced. I stand, discarding the blade that entered me previously. The shades attack, I swipe a savage hand, nothing left. She's there, paralyzed, stuttering on her "dark" incantations, summoning the whole of her "hell" to attack. I respond in a language ancient, dark, but protectively savage, they vanish. Hexes fly and die, I am no so lowly as to be effected by such toys. Curses come next, unscathed am I. "Follow through please :D" say I. "Evils" ancient and powerful she throws as I slowly walk towards her. I glance at them "begone" and they are gone. "You see, you need to justify your actions. I need not such weakness. I need to justify when this should happen, you seek death, eternal? No, no such thing exists lest you believe it." I let her see in an instant all the paralell tortures, deaths, pains, subserviences, humiliations, soul rending horrors I've the intention of unleashing... she can feel them all at once.

Paralyzed before me her dagger falls, katana dropping shrill voice hoarse. "I need not justify my actions, only justify when I should act. You have decided your doom." I whisper in her ear in the now completely dark area in front of the door to the reflecting pool. I have lived the life an honest pauper and rich slayer. I've healed many lives and ended many more. I've seen the end before it was thought and endured the beginning. There's not a place in the light I've not been, nor a dark space I've not known as home. Yet your luck has run out, as this is not my death to deal. You might not notice it, but right behind you there is a power. It requests your presence, even at the height of my rage I tell you in a heart beat I could release ye from this true dark... yet know too much about the world I do to make such an idiotic offer. You summoned this being, it is your burden." my voice barely audible now "Be gone and come back only when you've dealt with this being and have come about to rightly embrace insanity."

Her eyes shreik more terror than I can type, if there was ever a paler shade of pale than white 'twas her face this night. The entity behind her grabbed her, nodded at me, and disappeared.

I ground myself by drinking my favorite Isle's Superstition and contemplating. Goddess she beams down "Thomas, this is just one of seeral who have entered your life, do you feel up to the task?"

"To be quite honest, no. It's harder by the day to hold that strength back, and as wild and unbridled as it is hard it would be to harness it properly."

"Understand that from this point forward the barrier is in place, but do not think you are as weak as you think. I do not raise week sons, nor does your father. Feel the blessings of our love envelope you and dream sweet oh Tiger ze Drakonwing. Feel the universe around you in your time of stasis and know that your knowledge has a time and place."

"Blessed Be Mother the nameless. I lay my sword before you and kneel, fealty sworn since birth, remembered 19 years later. I await my orders and request the protection from those who would pose as my foes but are not worth word nor sword."

"And it be granted my son."

As her incandescence fades I sit thinking, puffing on a pipe of Captains Spice tobacco. In thinking of Halloween, Samhain, or whatever you may call it, do people really look at the "thinning of the veil" from the aspect of times thinning barriers?

[thought_on_a_wind]

At the eastern sea board of my isle there is a geological oddity, naturally formed is an overhanging cliff with a circle carved in the stone by what seems to be water, at the center is a throne produced naturally via weathering or maybe other less mundane forces.

I sit here from time to time when I need the guidance or powerful workings of the winds. So, sit I do, "Powerful airs surrounding me, please enter this circle of perfect trust and commune, blessings I need, recharging of my forlorn life."

A whistle approaches from the south, from the north I hear a sweet breeze, from the West a howling rustle and from the east a thundering gail converges. As they intermingle, there is a moment of complete solace/isolation, my emotions fall before me as a logic overtakes that requests I look at things from the perspective of air. Though they do not speak, I know for a fact I am in the presence of the four airs.

"Great airs, emotions are blocking intellect, strength staved by the world so small. I need the winds of change more now than ever, there is a part of my soul that requires the movement i once had, yet situations surrounding me would prevent that. I ask for guidance and athe breeze to fill my sails to that place I'm supposed to be. Grant me memory and power."

the winds tell me in their non-verbal way I must stay her for a couple more days... I sit there and there messages promise to emerge in my daily life.

[thought_on_a_wind]

The Lulling iwnd has had me in conference for more than a month, in which time I've felt a disconnection from the bulk of those forces I once loathed the day and wished only for death in their presence. I've focused part of my intellect and emotions to attempt to bridge the gap provided years of relenquishment.

I've met some and departed the acquaintances of others... and though I know not where my biological father is, I feel he is at peace... though the pain hurts worse than the reoccuring ailment that in spasms leaves me drained to deaths bed. Yet, the intellecct guides the emotion as the winds speak words to me that only a mind could comprehend and written language would be impractical for.

They've allowed me to see just what the true colors were of those whose endeavors my sacred mother and father warned me about. I've seen things within this month, and noticed certain syncronicities that allow me to enthrall more of my time energy and thoughts into reawakening my innate psychic... and I am feeling the atrophied muscles of the next levels of insanity starting to build tone.

The message they say that I can write or say in return are "A wind isn't stagnant simply for it's lack of filling sails, a forest is not lessened by the air remaining still, nor the air ceasing to move more than a little would indicate anything less than the air is doing just what it was designed for. Blessed b rother on wing and foot, the guidance we offer we have spoke ye. Speak ye now with the ocelot. Stand! Leave this circle revived of mind and passion almost extinguished, though airkin you may be in soul, your body still has an inner flame that needed revitalized as it was almost snuffed. Please leave this sacred circle and go forth blessed with our approval."

As I leave I hear either Maelstrom or soothing breeze behind, of which can I distinguish. I do feel revitalized as one who stands outside consuming and altering the fresh air. I walk to the center of my isle, light as can be, to see a sinewy form of wild cat before me who demands respect though his size be dimunitive comparatively speaking. "Sit, you once knew me in astral and ethereal as Dag, king of the cats, now know the other aspect as the Ocelot." Dag says as he paces towards me, shoulders suprisingly muscular for the size,

"We live in a world comprised of taboo. What is taboo is defined by the person and the culture they live in. If death is holy, then expect sacrifices of blood. If one entity, be it money a god or an animal, is thought to be the only being of knowledge; expect the followers to pursue their convictions to the death, either in offense or defense.

Don't expect mine to adhere their personal beliefs/world to this outer-current of traditional slaughter, nor expect them not to retaliate in defense of their researched personal beliefs and loved ones with nothing less than blood for sole reasons of self/familial preservation. I am human, creator, created, and primal animal capable of a certain type of ascension/transcendence outside the influence of naturally occurring drugs. Those chemical's are already within the body and can be invoked appropriately within."

"I am nothing, I am everything. I am linked to the universe, I am nihilistic and disconnected. I am a pupil and am Tao. Speak not I terms comprehensible to those branded 'New Age' solely. I require no sacrifices, you to give up your current life, nor provide monetary ministrations. I require you to open your eyes to the world around you, in sobriety, of sound mind, and accept the sacred insanity set before ye."

"You are a singularity, a peculiar amalgam of reptilian, old and new mammalian brains, a heart also possessing a brain and a collection of atomic nomads that can provide ye experiences not possible without a smidgen of scientific and spiritual understanding."

"The universe is within, without, and all around. You are a conduit, a force, creator, destroyer, apathy incarnate, devout thinker, and unmotivated sloth philosopher. All of ye. Accept your sacred insanity, live it... breathe it, and see what normal or sane truly is." ~ quoth the ocelot.

[thought_on_a_wind]

Awing, flies this solo entity of reflection feeling his green mate, much have we done to disconnect ourselves from the erroneous connections, much has her dragon flame purged me of my past existence, and mine hers.

We circle highly, both out of necessity and recognition a mixture of failings of paths pains immense placed on our shoulders for failure, and the great strength each was supposed to balance others is our own now to focus on each other, and heal the wounds from around.

We are that strength, each others, no equilibrium longer necessary, pray-tell our roars of greeting.

Wingedly I fly to her, in time with her own beats as our pain ridden eyes show with clarity. Recognition the opposite, but through happenings counterpoints, as we plummet forth, there is a very strong wind to resist us descending towards my isle this night.

Should I've seen her in my kindred spirit? Yes and no, much have we already sacrificed in blood and scales to stay a failed course, the pain both a reminder and provider of temperance and ultimately peace stayed by love both olde and new. Onward we plummet, the updraft suspending our fall in a strangely relaxing way.

We land upon a ledge, having been here for our own realignment and trials, the Isle aglow with mother's shine, ble'st mother. As we feel our will strengthening, hearts borne anew, and look onwards at our will that was submitted to the heavens, we accept the link we have reawakened, but wait til the universe responds before any more work shall be done, per the advice of a wise monster.

Blessed mother shining down so brightly this night, my scales caressing hers.

Bracken the waters are as we feel our individual energies, and ponder our places. Know our time to rise is nigh, but for now, we perch, scratching each others scales, solace our loving embrace. Alone, these lofty heights.

As we lay there nestled against each other overlooking the island to my camp, I feel the wingbeats of many dragons, off in the distance, it is a very comforting feel, and there are those more human too that connect with us, we shall meet them... all of them.

As sleep takes me, John flashes before my eyes with words the wise "You feel that which you are now drawn, this has awakened the side of intuition, take my blessing my ancestral son. Your power will awaken with the memories to come."

I look down, and realize, once more am I human, counterpoint gone to her own island not too far away. With wings of dragon upon back, I jump without hesitation, flying to my camp.

Sipping on my aged bottle of Isle, I smoke my pipe once more and sense an observer, steadily I raise my head "Pay no attention to this void, he is not for the world once was destined as higher powers have guided." I sip some more, taking a long tug on my trusty pipe with Captains Spice, and look up again. "The path to insanity is deep, and I am there, know now that study to me comes with the sands of time, and remembering is more a study than is a study of the words writ. Observation has been my own goal in the past, and I fail it not through the resultant interaction."

With that, I staunch the fire to embers retreating within my hovel oh so comfortable, a twinkling from the moon above guiding me to slumber and a soft message from mother dearest "Rest my perfect thought, your deeds have outweighed your energy, allow us to soothe your wounds, and those of your counterpoint."

Blessed Be

[thought_on_a_wind]

Run amock and chaotic I do upon my isle,
A flit of the wings converts to the willing compliance of she the beautiful green,
Like children we pursue each other,
After playful tackles our forms change tiger to his tigress,
Stealthily we interlope amongst the woods mid isle,
Find a portal I do to her island,
Sneak through I do,
*Pounce*
She greets me, dragon as much as my spirit is presently tiger,
Flames shoot from below, my shadowy, sinewey form manifesting in spined/horned head.
We play this day as we await the universes manifestation,
Comfortable we both are with the other,
Our connection formed like the phoenix,
In that we were successful,
And one enlightens the other as fangs playfully grip neck,
Two forms changing on the whim,
Flitting between ones isle and the others.

We sit at either camp enjoying our favorite scotch,
And just enjoy our energies,
Enjoying the bond one has to the other,
The amount of absolute faith the other carries in the will of the Universe,
As we rest upon our previous perch one gazes the depths of the other,
Enthralled, She has spoken, I have spoken,
Both of us accepting the other,
Staying our time, enjoying this bond oh deep for what it is,
Know we that naturally this bond will deepen as closer to time our walks will be,
Naturally we allow it, realizing our previous folly borne of the failure to merge four,

But gaining the Universe in return,
Two deep growls can be heard this full mooned night,
From high above a mountain,
Bursts of flame, small from this far away upon the waters of insanity,
Can be seen this night,
Orange green stars dying and being reborn,

Blessed Be all those who embrace their sacred insanity says this thought

[thought_on_a_wind]

Amongst the all too familiar depths of the reflecting pool I sit, staring amidst the inky blackness.
Awaiting that moment of nothing to consume,
A point in existence where one does not exist,
One where a void state of "being" encompasses the observer,
As I stare, all else drains away, all thoughts,
Beliefs, Ideologies, Apprehensions,
Circumstances, Threats,
Pain, Emotions, Experiences.

It all drains as I stare out at the inky void before me,
A sense that I am not alone takes hold as my empty slate awaits a peice of knowledge,
Runes?
None,
Paths?
None,

Nothing comes,
Were I full of things this would be disheartening,
But nothing is patience,
Nothing is encapsulating,
And in that nothing a number comes forth,
1
and then another 1, this one green,
both ones be separated by a mass of void,
yet like two particles from the same heart,
one reacts to the other as if tied together,
I feel the depths of the first 1 and realize that it is similar to something I used to know,
The green 1 something else I used to know,

That is when the flow of everything comes back,
I sit in awe,
The first 1 myself,
The second 1 the green one an isle over,

I sit more, puffing on my pipe as I still feel not alone,
and a voice comes forth from the pool,
"Move closer human borne, dragon soul!"
Obligingly I lean forward to the edge of the pool as the seductive female voice requests.
"I" as the word or letter be uttered a face appears at the surface,
A beautiful naked body raising from the fluid depths,
She is water borne, not nymph in nature,
One this thought has loved on many an occasion,
"Am the one you have sought for lives.
With each meeting in the past we have met tragedy,
Love you deeply I do, and realize that even through it,
Our love still endears.
It is because of this that I feel you should be revealed to a thought,
One to consume and digest and integrate,
Lest my message be lost on deaf ears."
Embrace the love I provide,
It is deep, and unique,
I bless you this day with the insight you've requested.
Many are the hearts that once beat pure, many hearts falter in this and feel that pure heart is foolish.
Folly is on their belief of that, as a pure heart is not naive,
It is hardened, but beats softly,
It is Soft, but Steeled,
It is the driving factor in a functioning one,
And as such fills the barer with power,
The power to feel,
The power to aide,
The power to protect,
The power to parent,
The power to move on regardless the pains it has gone through,
It is the power to open the gates to the awareness of the universe around,
It provides that insight to deal with everything with compassion,
Yet integrating the reason it feels,
And is very powerful not only in war, but love, life, law, and true,
Every part of our being profits from a pure heart,
One that has held the tests of time and,
To this day still refuses to quit beating and feeling.
You are blessed with this, the greatest strength of a pure heart is
That it can purify other hearts as well,
Regardless the differences in philosophy or religion,
It can give purpose back to others that bare hearts too."

"That is why I love you,
and have always loved you,
no matter how many times I've died at others hands,
Yours refuses to quit beating,
It leads you well,
And through our bond,
Know I that you and the green one
Are now of the same heart,
Two peices forged anew,
May you both have my blessing,
And you and I will meet again,
As you walk your life and find entrance to the Otherworld,
I await, as you've always known, I will always be there."

As the nostalgia and bittersweet joy of yesteryear encompasses me,
She walks upon the ground towards this all-consumed one,
Embraces me as deeply as she always had,
Our energies merging once more,
And initiates the deepest of kisses writ of in legend,

She looks at me once more,
While descending,
Into those perfectly calm depths,
Green eyes twinkling with love hard to describe the depths of,

As I look down, in my hand is my old sword, one I'd thought lost,
Plain looking to the naked eye,
It's golden energies permeate the air around it,
This was the sword of a king,
And again a sword of a knight,
Also 'twas the same sword a Scotsman once used to aide others in
the overthrow of the Vikings.

It also was the sword that sought vengeance against those that killed....

My lovely lady of the lake and waters.
I walk out the door, her words emboldening this olde heart,
I hear a growl in the distance,
So, she too has received her spear?
She receives a growl- tiger borne in return.

As I sit this night, before going to the green one's isle,
I sip my favorite Scotch, Isle of Jura,
In memory of those many joy filled lives with such bitter endings,
No more does it hurt however, it just forged that Iron heart to Steel,
One that still beats, and is strengthened that it will always beat,

Blessed Be those who still feel their hearts,
Blessed Be the ones who can allow compassion to forge there way,
Blessed Be those who can look at all their previous painful memories,
and accept "That which doesn't kill us makes us stronger." ~Neitchze

[thought_on_a_wind]

I walk the isle o' mine, hearing a distant calling, sort of a foghorn, but one announcing a ship be coming in.

It feels olde but new, my green companion be beside me. Almost missed our path as the other travelers we were linked to were meant to come along too... almost missed hearing this horn, we almost missed the road we'd worked all our lives to start down.

As a faint image of a ship arrives over the horizon, two dragons sit expectantly on my isle, and her isle, as we are in both places at the same time. Staring at each other, memories flooding forth, of the attempts at healing those we were tasked to heal, the loves we were to assist in rising once more to our own heights... and how it 'twas all for not.

We think about how our own paths were affected, how much pain it was to correct the errors that the others we once loved with undying memories both serene and at the same moment unlivably painful. We remember them for their previous selves, as we look at each other deep within, we realize that this loss, once again, almost cost us our own path, that sacred walk of four reduced to two. Two survivors, two who extended their beings to the limits of space and time to save the one wounded, and the other, higher self damaged, all for naught and rejection.

This remorse was fresh once, before we felt our own souls knowing that we would go forth regardless. Two dragon and tiger borne ones, awaiting the ship prophecied about many times now, as it comes closer... now a speck.

Closer we look into the other, know each others depths. Visions of earth, and those beyond earth start to come back.

A play of energy zaps us, a spark, glints of trees and a pond...

Brief, of standing side by side, both of the trees and separate,
I holding up my right hand, she her left!
Power, running to and from.
Trees awakening, the spirits active, we stand still embracing their power... our power,
A voice calls from the lake, as our oaths completed,
A wizened voice summons us,
We follow, allowing our souls to guide us to this most sacred of places.

Standing in front of the pond, deep in it's depth, like a swirling portal to the depths of the universe herself, Is a woman both old and wise, white of hair and clothes, she stands there.

"Please move forward Green one, and Blue one." Her words short but genuinely supportive,

Silently we move forward, a feeling that our energies are not just blue nor green solely one to the other, intermixing, intermingling, my blue to her green.

"Tasked yourselves with learning the knowledge of the Universe you have. You swear an oath now as you step forward that toward the end of your journey you will return."

"Understand that this journey is one both extremely long, pain filled, bizarre, beautiful, deep, ancient, new, and everything as well as nothing. It is one that will allow you much strength and power. It will allow you to transcend normal limits, and teach others to do the same. It is a sacred charge that will be faith driven, as all that you see now you will not see. It is a sacred link to our deities the nameless. Beautiful as a new star in a gas cloud, horrifying as a black holes reach."

"Realize that few ever wish to elect this path. Realize that you are amongst the few that will reach the other side of the void as nothing, to change into everything."

"Understand that as you both develop, you will empower the other as not even Twin Flames can initially. Realize that though your love be deep now, it will only deepen more over time, to the point that were you to be separated, you would still devote your love to the others encompassing a circle, yet understand that you need not be linked directly."

"Understand that if you feel that you must move on, one will strengthen the other, and it is my blessing that you both will become stronger in bond in those instances, remembering your origination point."

"Blessed Be, do you both accept these charges as students to the natural and raw but all powerful Akasha and her elements?"

As we both stared into each other as we do now, our energies mixed deeper, in a fluid motion, we move our heads forward looking at the Wise One before us and say as one "Yes."

"Then step forward and enter the realm of the cosmos at large, and the void, linked to both ye be." She says as she steps aside. "Remember that I, as well as your guides will always be there to provide you both with insight!"

We stepped into the void that day... and it would take several millenia for me to return... for penance not required but done anyway to step back into that void... this time to become nothing... dissolve completely...

Two dragons, one black with crimson undertones and lines, the other emerald green in color lay on the beach, a boat now the size of a matchbox approaching, it's horn announcing it well before it arrives. The sun setting to red skies, a lazy seagull flying off into the distance, those dragons oblivious the changes, staring deep into their memories, remembering foremost from their journeys that almost does not count... as we did what we needed to do... sacrificed very powerful bonds, severed the ties of past lives... almost losing a part of ourselves in the process, only to gain the universe in each other.

We both accept our twins are somewhere out there, but they are the least important thing in all existence right now. Crimson eyes staring into Emerald ones... promises remembered... paths aligning to path. She and I, my Queen to her King, ruling over none, but all the better for the bond.

[thought_on_a_wind]

As I stare into the pit of my fire, enjoying this day of love, the green one and I both see a very insane vision amongst the embers:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RZYqAhX3GMw

[thought_on_a_wind]

I avail not the times and seasons around,
Passing by on ides of a year imperfect in it's original manufacture,
Awing and anon, whipping through clouds dark and bearing storm,
'tis no certain feeling that allows those specks below to manifest to a keen eye,
Magnificent marches of progress those little specks make in that oh so broken system of time,
Frail they appear from these lofty heights,
Flame licks nostrils flared as wings take wind and maneuver higher yet.
Roaring thunder beckons below, the eye of the storm revealing the tempest o' splendorous
A satisfied roar escapes sharp crimson teeth,
Satisfaction in deep green cats eyes,
This is my storm, my mistress,
I hover above a kite free of string,
wings gliding on updrafts circling closer to the tempests center,
a brief glimpse below reveals scampering specks leaving the eye of yon fair maiden,
Her thunderous roar masking even my own,
She represents my other, my love, my reincarnating blessing and tie,
Others fear her destruction, pay no attention to her glimmering renewal,
Always are last to embrace her,
Least likely to acknowledge her beautiful gifts of redemption and rebirth.

Circling inward the vibrant wisp of wind tickles the tops of my wings and channels down the sinewy scaly back,
A shiver gracing my chest as I tuck limbs inward,
Oh that beautiful play thing that is gravity starts my descent,
Wings tucked to the side caressing,
Plummeting faster this wyrm does,
Dagger horned tail straightened like an arrow notched in bow,
Wind, she blasts by violently now, soothing hot muscles with her wondrous cold,
Rocketing closer now, as that eye, oh so lovely eye invites serpent borne,
A shooting star of night blood and claws plummets closer to his destination,
Oh blest wife and mistress, how I missed thine wild and vibrant embrace!
A moment of fusion as the storm sucks in embracing me with a static calm
Walls of wind all 'round,
I growl, snarl, and primally bellow in pure ecstasy
Those specks below may, those left to embrace what they feel is ravage,
May dismiss it as naught more than whims of thunder despite it's intensity,

She entices, shots of electric shooting by,
She entrances, as falling deeper I,
Feel her allure taking hold,
A feeling of scale mixing,
dancing, feeling one and uniting with the wonderful moist hot
Seduction mixed with sparks of lightning pure,
A more content feeling felt never before,
In moments where the worlds troubles melt away,
Plummet I further into her eye,

The deeper I fall, the more lovely the embraced
Buffeted by winds of ancient power,

And as I start to leave to visit those specks,
One laying on a hill,
She speaks "Follow deeper your path oh dark one.
Thine journey has just begun."

Centering my view, tears were there any to shed,
At departure from my one true love,
All but lost in the her powerful embrace, pulse of storm beating overhead,
I work towards that lonely spectator,
The one as enthralled in her majesty as this dark interloper,
There is more of a pull as my wings un-tucked,
Reveling in the windy torrent and gliding along,
Stare I more at the observer,
See I his eyes widening,
Not in fear, but wonder,
A slight sense of recognition too,

Pursue further my flight to his hill,
Realizing it a mixture of wills,
As rest I next to the sole spectator of nature at her finest,
This speck, I realize is not a speck,
Our eyes lock,
He is me, and I am him.
Split, but now reunited, we combine.
Awakening be the best of blessings.

[thought_on_a_wind]

I walked with you oh for so long,
My crimson regale met with your beautiful gold eyes,
'twas bliss e'er so told,
and in an instant it ended,
Ethereal went my existence to understand that pain,

I remember our many embraces,
Waltzing thru lives the knowledge and love to be shared,
Beat, my heart beat so much in those day,
Wonderful times by the millions,
The embraces masterfully intertwined with our beautiful dance,

Reached too far so soon,
That death never to be forgotten,
Sweat of ruby droplets staining your neck and my hands,
Cruel beast that I was,
Penance 'twas asked and attained,
We bonded once more,
Love sprung anew to this dark winged form,
And you oh golden eyed one,
Protector, lover, healer, my roles,
We both remade as fools,

Failed once more at my post in two,
Though the love 'twas all that kept me
Ripped from my grasp by a puppeteer,
As I now lay, throat slit, karma paid it's dues,

Lives away, a sordid piece of me torn,
In places where once beat a heart,
Useless scorn,
Placed in a casket undying in my wake,
Piece you back together I was tasked,
All you did was break,

I walk away leaving the Gods tormented ruins,
Scourged again, never to dance that dance more,
Roost I above mountains of lights and cement,
Left morose, alone, and infused with lament,

Anger wisps at the spectre in your place,
Those eyes are shallow now, the bond working one way,
You do not feed as not the emptiness I see,
One who gave up her fight,
Assaulting her already wounded savior,
A priceless lovely puppet
Dancing the marionette strings where master calls,

Please take my soul, use it as your own,
there is nothing more I wish to know,
Split me asunder not with words but your vicious intent,
The manipulator has won,
And there's nothing here anymore,

I lay, licking my wounds,
Pulling out the daggers as even more fly in
Marked for home,
Saving grace is you cannot defeat me now,
I am void,
I am nothing, and you are nothing,
Me by choice, you by force of hand,

The pain, though non-existent does "exist"
No longer, Reach I into my heart's previous place,
A pulsing connection within,
The remains of love,
Tattered and shriveled in it's current phase,
Tears run deep as I take the final piece of you,
And this one, looking deeply into those once so lovely golden eyes of hope,
Replaced by your vacant stare,

Walking closer to the edge of this monstrosity called civilization.
Lighter in hand, eyes glowing that all too familiar crimson,
Pulses of our echoing pain reverberating in my brazen skull,
The memories a flood of times that I was someone capable of that feeling,
And all it's serene depths,
But as the stringed one has changed, so have I,

Knock no longer at this door and request the services of your other,
As he no longer is yours,
He is no ones,
He'll carve himself free of your bond,
and all the useless dreams that flowed with it,
Scoring marrow, shedding flesh, till all that's left is his core,
To revive in stitches, bandages and splints,

after shed of my flesh,
ounce per ounce,
wings upon a naked bloody
body
I place your bond,
What was left of my heart,
our many lives existence,
Into the fire

hear the faint cry of realization,
Steel myself and light a cigarette as I dive off
Damned building infernal,
Wings pulsing a ragged smoking form,
Clawed yet human,
Off into this moonless night once more.

You're pyre is this souls reminder of the foul
Other...
Consume it I will
Subject it to the internal nothing

[thought_on_a_wind]

Ever ble'st we walked amongst cavernous mountains and deep caves,
Adventure calling to two kindred souls,
'Twas the parting that hurt the most,
And smote this shadow to the ground,

Lay there, blood flowing forth upon the dust ridden floor of earth,
Vision blurring as your eyes of concern and fear,
Did cry for this one,
The shadow who was parting,

I remember looking deep within your eyes,
Wanted I to say words of comfort,
Of how we were not parting permanently,
How I await you upon Otherrealms doors for the greet,
And you, in all your love tears flowing like bitter sweet diamonds,
Recognized these words in my eyes,

As the grasp of O' death the doorkeeper took hold,
Embrace sweeter than ever before we held,
One with an equal pain,
To make it official a promise I made,
One that had to be choked out,
One that was deep,
Promised I to look deep into your eyes once more,
Sensing you before seeing you,
'Twas my promise then,

As I sit here, cigarette puffing smoke,
I feel you, through time and space,
A part of this reborn heart connects,
Coming again you are oh fellow winged one,
Blessed Be the greet,
As embers within start to resuscitate my expectant spirit,
A warm glow be your ethereal eyes,
Oh Blessed one,

I sit here and wait,
Till that moment our meeting again,
In the meantime remembering our journeys past,
And how they will in this life manifest,
An extension to the latter promise being that you and I,
Winged and bonded,
Will not part the other,
But will continue on,
Into the gates of the Otherworld.

[thought_on_a_wind]

Vibrant is the pulse of the realm before
Walked I once before.
Now she lays in her pond awaiting my embrace,
Fanged and clawed I tread those water closing space,

We dance under the water,
Make love above it,
Caressing kisses of strength the one consumes the other,
As more and more experiences come about in power,
The time is here to allow us our reverie,
In tune to this ancient most beautiful of embraces,
Swim we do some more, out to a central isle.

Stand I there, helm of silver tiger upon my head,
She, laying there in a description of warm glowing fluidity,
My lass beckon me forth as she stands,
Follow her I do with a heart light as a child's,
Deeper we go, deeper yet into this isle,
Woods all around,
Palms, lots of palms and coconut trees too,
Foliage dense but manageable,

Her green eyes beg me deeper,
Her intoxicating smile all the more alluring,
A vibrant feel unlike any a human should feel,
Deep glowing pulsations of love as the heart of the stand of tropical trees we enter.
A circle lays in the center, one with a being,

A green dragon lays there,
Her scales ruffed, bitter holes all over,
beat she is,
Rasping raggedly for breath,
Starved for that fire that once filled her lungs,

The attraction instantaneous,
Look at my lover of the lake in question
"We will always be together, do not think this a cheat!"
She, the lady of the lake says with a sideways glance and wink,
"You must nurse her back to health."

I stand by the green one in these days past,
Take her back to my dwelling,
Healing her of her wounds,
Having roots of dragon deep within
I administer poultices,
polish scales, clip others,
Lay with her at nights,
Transformed, my black scales a warm and promising comfort to her,
Remember distant memories of flying far,
In skies alien to this realm,
Perching on top of mountains to watch the world from it's throne,

Each night she awakens a little more,
My lovely lady visiting and laying beside us both,
With each day our bond grows stronger,
The green one and I,
Soon I feel her very heart start to awaken,
Coal scales rubbing against emeralds deep,
Flames sprouting forth from her nostrils,
Each day this ancient heart starts to churn more
As hers does to.
Each day find I another wound so deep it shatters my heart
To see such beauty in such disrepair
Burning more a hatred against such ones as could do this,

Many's the night I sit watch the front for her assailants,
Many's the day I remove bandages and apply new ones to other areas,
Many's the 'tween time we lay by each other pain and love kindled olde and new,
Her eyes glistening a deep blue,
Connecting,
Many's the season I fly for food,
Providing her flanks of cow and many deer,

Robust her mood as her strength comes back,
I, laying outside awaiting her enemies.
They will come, but they will not face a dragon,
not in the flesh,
That's their specialty,
The face a Highland warrior,
The heart of Brave beared deep with the malice held for their deeds
Proud be the display of my regale,
Though 'twould bely a different heritage,
Pauldrons of dragon claw,
Helm of silver tiger,
Blue and white cape flowing forth,
Breast plate dragon scale, Tiger marked upon the center,
Gauntlets of a dragon once I knew Blue,
Silver armament both mobile and strong,
And heart afire with vengeance,
My claymore be the only reminder of that warrior,

I lay, await, but none do come,
One night, as my love before me awakes I hear her growl oh so deep,
Heavy breathing giving way to a deeper growl,
The spines upon my neck raise,
Dark encapsulates my form,
In Dragons place stand this warrior,

Hear them before seeing them,
Stand I out front,
No stealth needed,
I see them now,
Hundreds of them,
Humans, parading this way banners raised high,

I move away from our cabin, Lady of the Lake kissing me upon the cheek before leaving,
five hundred yards away, their thunder makes the ground quake,
Lesser men would run,
But know these sounds many a time before.
Pure ignorance,
Lack of form,
Barbarians All,
How they pierced my sacred love know I not,
Adrenaline raises as they charge forth.
The fire, she burns deep, a grim but vicious rage besetting,
Instilling painless fury to still the body,

My form is known,
Though does nothing to slow their movement grande and chaotic,
Lesser men would have run,
Lesser men would have grabbed their wounded and left,
assail not these realms oh grande and not face I the protector!
The war to be is beautiful too,
Another lover I've had the honor,

Deep is the defiant bellow from this one as the tempest approaches,
Remember I lives of kilts, beards braided, claymore in hand,
Death before me,
I take those memories as blessings,
Start I the swing that cleaves,
Dance I in a swath of madness,
Armor slighted by an onslaught of inferior weapons,
Crack goes the brittle snap of many bones,

Ah, the embrace of war o' bloody,
Powerful the memories do flood,
Deeper I plunge, awash in crimson joy,
They fall more and more,
A deadly wave against a forged stone,

Slice, slash, slam, cling,
Their weapons ill suited for man of their size.
Fervent their efforts,
But all for not.
I stand my ground at the center,
A god amongst ants,
Blood crazed eye besetting the canines pronounced,
Chaos they be familiar with,
Chaos I embrace,
Claymore dropped I pounce,

Ripping with hands is a lot more fulfilling,
Yet suffer they not the depths of her wounds,
Nor could they.
Soon, vision blurs, roaring ensues, maddened rage blacking my vision,
I recall bits, of impaling someone on a dragon tooth they wore as merit,
Of biting out a throat to drink such nice tasting blood as can be,
But most the rest comes from seeing a picture of their
Unjust action of hunting,

As my vision clears, there is one,
Standing in before me,
Eyes awash in glazed stupor,
Astounded and abashed,
He wears the arms of a leader,
A rogue, a bandit, a flagrant disgrace to the word warrior,

As I raise my Claymore from it's bloody resting place to end him,
I feel a tickle on my right hand from the back side,
It requests this general before it.
Pommel smashes the captain,
Hopefully I cracked something
Says the berserker within,

Drag the unconscious in I do,
As he awakens a row of polished boney daggers await him,
Her mouth open,
Fear into the depths of his soul does cry,
It was in this moment of fear her jaws did not close.
Moving her head away,
He stared directly into her sparkling blue galaxy of an eye,
That eye I'd known to love before and anew,
Taking a sniff of his soft flesh,
A lick of the spots of blood,
Moved away did she, my love,

"Leave!" Growled she,
Stricken was I but understanding,
'Twas her aggressor,
Her decision.

As he left, the compassion that fanged one held
Made my heart beat once more,
Flew we away from yon lake shores,
Leaving the watery embrace of my eternal love,
To the embrace of a scaly eternal love both olde and new.

[thought_on_a_wind]

Stand before the center of my isle I do, green one by my side. Our auras a bit... dirty, together we chant a chant of words not words, in a way to remember a fountain once we walked into.

A fountain meant for those in need of healing, in need of rejuvination. Quietly images of angels, Michael in front, flaming sword respectfully slicing away all cords not necessary to our existences, as pulsing images of the lights above empower a place deep within that's placed itself in the very beginning of life, the cosmos a whole where we float, swimming thru space to the destination in front, a time and place where we once were and are now.

We lay on the ground, allowing the light to heal our wounds, asking each of us in our own way for the support of ancient deities like Nammu and our own nameless mother and father, requesting their healing support...

We lay in this place, til once more we move in a posting yet to come as the healing is requested, to empower and strengthen us. Ble'st be universe.

[thought_on_a_wind]

Still in the loving warmth of the fountain our eyes stare off into the distance, the stars above twinkling with such power.

Our minds wander back to the glen of our origination, back to our original bond to nature.

She and I stare at all our kin, and welcome those who have become self aware.

A Blue Amphibious reptile, tentacles, gills and lungs, self aware the moment 'twas alive.

Obscuria was strange in those days, and we keep catching glances, one to the other sharing a powerful memory of exploring the Mayanesque ruins fused with Atlantean technologies and having a tribal power all it's own. This is primal, this is primordial, whoever made those ruins left us a legacy to follow, architects as they were, thier mysteries quickly showed the way for us and our group of primitive but evolved explorers.

I remember stepping into the temple that was to be called my home, adorned with ancient inscriptions of power I came up with fused with silver images. Her temple being sacred, only when we are both fully healed can we stare deeply into the others humble abode.

I stare at her, and she at me, her eyes besetting something deeper than human flesh. We remember that first meeting well, I with my group, they possessing their own unique appearances creature oriented in nature.

She being pursued by the predecessor to man, simple weapons of sinew, wood and stone assaulting her as she fled. She dropped as she raced out of the forest, meet falling breathlessly at our feet. As she looked up, the bond was instantaneous, one realizing the other for who they were or would be. Not a word that could be typed was uttered, though there were many transactions of speech. She stared into I, and I knew what must be done as the hunters came forward to slay their green one. Silently my wings sprouted from my back. Took to air I did as below the not so quiet hunting party did pursue. Stalked them to the very edge of the woods.

She, laying on the ground before them, an enticing piece of bait. Notched the arrow was before they realized silent death was upon them. The hunters became prey, though I'll spare you the gory details, as two on blue and one green ate that day. At night we were to meet the Elders of my Clan, and introduction of her blessed beauty and both of us, progressing as quickly as we did, I with my tentacle adorned legs, wings sprouting from back, She possessing green fur, wolfs fangs, eyes of a cat, and legs with hooves.

Both of us walking on two feet, stepped forward as a light shimmering green and blue came down upon the fire. A form feminine in nature started to take shape right then, as we stared up in amazement. A deep female voice, powerful and the ultimate in graceful maternal strength, Spoke the sprecht all can understand. "I see two infants before me that have rapidly grown to the size of adults in maturity and wisdom. I also see that these two do not wish to become elders, but explorers, going forth into the Cosmos through time and space. My name be Nammu, and I was your caretaker, though both of you answer to two other deities that predate us all. Nameless they be, do you wish to have names?"

Neither of us stepped forward "Then it shall be that from this day forward, the name you share is the name that others call all of your kind. Traveler, be your names, though true name it is not. Be blessed, and realize that your time in Obscuria is limited, you must step forth, be apart of your Legacy to be! Go now, to the forest, deep within there is a lake and a wise guide to aid you both! Be blessed upon your journey! Primordial mother will watch over you both!"

That is when we started our journey into the depths of the woods, fusing even more of our spirits to the wilderness we not only called home, but kin and friends.

Laying within the pool, one still feels the others wounds, and she aids me in my resuscitation healing the many tears still deep within this thoughts soul....

I am e'er blessed by her presence, and we link further in our present life.

[thought_on_a_wind]

I stand atop a hill on my isle, looking around, though my isle and my green loves are fine, I feel the land afar... hear the crying and the despair... am tortured that it's going on.. and try to swallow the anger that boils forth with the idiocy of those the ignorant... those who've abandoned all hope of their own life providing any bit of insight to progression on them...

I feel their dying breaths, gasping for air, wishing they were different...
And, as a survival instinct, I see them, as they plunge into the depths of mother insanity...
Never to be seen more,
I feel them as they drag others to their own deaths too.
This soul stands by his own,
A vigil held to a wounded but beating heart.
Plagued by the inhumanity of it all as those who are and were enlightened start to plummet.
And though the anger and rage for the injustice is complete.
It's outweighed by the pain and remorse I feel for the paths chosen,
and the paths others were told were their only options.
Which in truth is a falsity,
As the ones who would not have drowned had soo much life to them.
This one holds solely himself accountable for his inaction.
This one would wish to create his own pyre to save them all.
This one would wish that at least one of the ones drowning could be saved.
But after swimming in mother Insanity for so long.
This one knows there is none a bit of hope for his restless soul to have been able to do anything at all.
As the pain subsides, this one wishes to remove the arrows from his attacked bretherens backs.
Wishes to pull the deep daggers out from their resting homes.
Many are they, though most are the Wounded Healer wishing to take all that pain for his own.
Stop the suffering for good souls.
Yet as helpless as a babe, for all his lives and years of wisdom he feels.

He blames himself because he wishes it were that simple as it should be.
That like Atlas, he relenting anything else would willingly take the World upon his shoulders.
And bear the pain for everyone, in their steed...
So that those that did have a chance at not drowning could once more feel air.
This one would wish his life over... to save but one of those drowning.

Pained ever as has been as will be for his inaction at injustice.
Mother save us from the false insanity.
We the survivors of such a harsh and uselessly ignorant and childish war.