Sunday, January 01, 2012
The Fate of Butterflies
Tender wings of colored light
Fragile hues of gold.
Each a saddened lover’s plight
A wish they couldn’t hold.
On those weightless
Drifting gems
A heart has been set free.
Capture not their dreaming souls,
Let them float in memories.
Monday, October 31, 2011
Without End
She fell from a star,
Wings still smoldering
Into his outstretched arms and heart
And dreams of wanderlust.
He called her nepenthe.
She whispered love.
They healed each other’s wounds and sang
And sipped the nectar of each other’s joy.
Feathers grew.
Distant voices prodded flight.
Want becomes need.
Need becomes weight.
She ran from her lover
And from her fate.
Two distant stars on
Canvas black.
She missed him and braved the journey back.
Standing there she holds his gaze.
He smiles and speaks her name.
With footfalls small
They try again to capture light.
The embers glow but fire burns and steals and kills
The truth that clouds her sight.
She calls to him.
But his reply
Is nothing more than acknowledgement.
Sky falls and crushed by clouds she cries.
Why?
She tried to ask him this.
No words the winds did bring.
And still she waits for honors creed
To rise before his needs.
Wings still smoldering
Into his outstretched arms and heart
And dreams of wanderlust.
He called her nepenthe.
She whispered love.
They healed each other’s wounds and sang
And sipped the nectar of each other’s joy.
Feathers grew.
Distant voices prodded flight.
Want becomes need.
Need becomes weight.
She ran from her lover
And from her fate.
Two distant stars on
Canvas black.
She missed him and braved the journey back.
Standing there she holds his gaze.
He smiles and speaks her name.
With footfalls small
They try again to capture light.
The embers glow but fire burns and steals and kills
The truth that clouds her sight.
She calls to him.
But his reply
Is nothing more than acknowledgement.
Sky falls and crushed by clouds she cries.
Why?
She tried to ask him this.
No words the winds did bring.
And still she waits for honors creed
To rise before his needs.
Sunday, April 16, 2006
Detour
It doesn’t take long to think on things
Just a detour from the road.
One step off the beaten path
And one step towards unknown.
Chances are the company that
Crossed the stream back there
Has not yet looked from pebbled road
To realize you’re not there.
While ferns and wood fill quite glade
Another thinker steps away from
Traveled road of all that’s known
To edge of wilderness alone.
I know you think these
Two should meet but
In this quiet green retreat
They met back when they chanced to see
That life is more with make believe.
Just a detour from the road.
One step off the beaten path
And one step towards unknown.
Chances are the company that
Crossed the stream back there
Has not yet looked from pebbled road
To realize you’re not there.
While ferns and wood fill quite glade
Another thinker steps away from
Traveled road of all that’s known
To edge of wilderness alone.
I know you think these
Two should meet but
In this quiet green retreat
They met back when they chanced to see
That life is more with make believe.
Monday, March 27, 2006
Perception
No more beauty today than yesterday.
The waves still seek the sand.
A scented blossom blooms and dies.
The rise and fall of day upon the land
Remains unchanged.
No more bedlam today than yesterday.
The streets still fill with frenzied crowds.
A child falls and seeks attention.
The creatures of the land do hunt and run
In places remote and unseen.
Two lovers kiss.
The barters hiss.
A cloud slips past the moon.
A baby sleeps.
The widow weeps.
A bard chants to a tune.
No more alive today than yesterday.
Her heart still beats in time.
A breath drawn in and then released.
A stroll through oak and pine
But something has changed.
No more a soul does she possess.
No difference can she see.
She only knows that on this day
Tis happiness she perceives.
Her step is light
A song takes flight.
She smiles to herself.
His hand she takes.
And dares not wake
From this a day of dreams.
The waves still seek the sand.
A scented blossom blooms and dies.
The rise and fall of day upon the land
Remains unchanged.
No more bedlam today than yesterday.
The streets still fill with frenzied crowds.
A child falls and seeks attention.
The creatures of the land do hunt and run
In places remote and unseen.
Two lovers kiss.
The barters hiss.
A cloud slips past the moon.
A baby sleeps.
The widow weeps.
A bard chants to a tune.
No more alive today than yesterday.
Her heart still beats in time.
A breath drawn in and then released.
A stroll through oak and pine
But something has changed.
No more a soul does she possess.
No difference can she see.
She only knows that on this day
Tis happiness she perceives.
Her step is light
A song takes flight.
She smiles to herself.
His hand she takes.
And dares not wake
From this a day of dreams.
Contemplation
What images run through moments of quiet contemplation?
Do any songs or moments send a thought my way?
Perhaps I hold these dreams too closely.
‘Tis not an easy thing to let slip hope away.
If asked I answer truthfully
To this question, you fear to say.
Let me go or tell of something.
I cannot hear your thoughts of me this day.
Sadness comes from not knowing.
To lose the bond for want of one small need.
Fields of dreams I waste time sowing.
All left to whither, water without seed.
Do any songs or moments send a thought my way?
Perhaps I hold these dreams too closely.
‘Tis not an easy thing to let slip hope away.
If asked I answer truthfully
To this question, you fear to say.
Let me go or tell of something.
I cannot hear your thoughts of me this day.
Sadness comes from not knowing.
To lose the bond for want of one small need.
Fields of dreams I waste time sowing.
All left to whither, water without seed.
Sunday, March 19, 2006
Two for Thanks
Slumber stops as sunlight streams. The boxes home to many dreams.
The music of the city streets awakens all with raucous beat.
With weary eyes some face this day with coat of tattered cast a ways.
A blanket of layered news warms enough to stay the winds that blow
And chill.
Waking in castle of corrugated brown the tiny child hears the sound
Of Mommy singing tunes of snow while scents of holidays begin to flow.
Wrapped in flannel, toasty warm the child giggles through the storm.
Floats of tissue paper meander past the glowing viewing screen
And sing.
A walk before the evening meal brings quiet contemplation.
A passing stranger wrapped in threads smiles and nods.
The streets are barren but for few that seek a moment from other’s view.
A passing stranger wrapped in down smiles and nods.
Table laden with bounty full. The crystal shines as if a jewel.
Voices hush as prayers begin. Heads are bowed in requiem.
The child is thankful for the toy he knows lies wrapped in Mommy’s closet,
While matronly thoughts turn to thanks for child and time and love.
Paper plate with holly leaf. The matching cup with printed wreath.
Eyes lift to one above, hands pressed in thread bare gloves.
For this moment warm and dinner flowing over plate, a simple thanks.
For the light of day and stars of night to wish upon he prays.
The music of the city streets awakens all with raucous beat.
With weary eyes some face this day with coat of tattered cast a ways.
A blanket of layered news warms enough to stay the winds that blow
And chill.
Waking in castle of corrugated brown the tiny child hears the sound
Of Mommy singing tunes of snow while scents of holidays begin to flow.
Wrapped in flannel, toasty warm the child giggles through the storm.
Floats of tissue paper meander past the glowing viewing screen
And sing.
A walk before the evening meal brings quiet contemplation.
A passing stranger wrapped in threads smiles and nods.
The streets are barren but for few that seek a moment from other’s view.
A passing stranger wrapped in down smiles and nods.
Table laden with bounty full. The crystal shines as if a jewel.
Voices hush as prayers begin. Heads are bowed in requiem.
The child is thankful for the toy he knows lies wrapped in Mommy’s closet,
While matronly thoughts turn to thanks for child and time and love.
Paper plate with holly leaf. The matching cup with printed wreath.
Eyes lift to one above, hands pressed in thread bare gloves.
For this moment warm and dinner flowing over plate, a simple thanks.
For the light of day and stars of night to wish upon he prays.
Apart
It matters not our worlds apart,
I see you in the light of
Every star.
I hear the pillow sigh as you turn
To me,
And when I find myself
Alone,
I reach to touch your
Hand as it rests upon my shoulder.
No time of tears for lack of
Wants or needs or dreams yet unfulfilled.
No days or nights of sorrows hold.
Placed within,
Steeped through flesh and
Soul you flow.
My love through time,
Beyond the air we breathe,
Fading not,
Imbibed in history.
Once entwined in lives of old,
Found again…
We wait.
I see you in the light of
Every star.
I hear the pillow sigh as you turn
To me,
And when I find myself
Alone,
I reach to touch your
Hand as it rests upon my shoulder.
No time of tears for lack of
Wants or needs or dreams yet unfulfilled.
No days or nights of sorrows hold.
Placed within,
Steeped through flesh and
Soul you flow.
My love through time,
Beyond the air we breathe,
Fading not,
Imbibed in history.
Once entwined in lives of old,
Found again…
We wait.
Tales of Path - The Cocoon - Timeline 03004
Enveloped in the comforting void, Path drew her knees to her chest, the vast nothingness an embracing cocoon. Safe, warm, protected. She allowed her mind to accept a simple thought, awareness. She touched her ankle and felt the beating of her heart, felt her hand on living skin. A resonate hum tickled her ear. Eyes open, she squinted through the darkness finding a tiny golden light to focus upon. Path drew in a deep breath, held it and released. In tones hushed and small, she dared to speak, “I am here.” The words dissipated yet they were heard.
The golden light flashed and caught her attention. Path unfolded and reached towards the light. “Too far” she thought. She let her hand drop to her belly. The light pulsed again. Her heart beat faster as the beacon sent waves of gold in a steady rhythm. She calmed her racing heart. The light slowed in its display. “Curious, this pretty gem” she mused.
“You see beauty here my little one?” Path questioned the source of the voice. “Yes, yes…you are not alone in this sanctuary. I give you credit my Dear, these walls are indeed complete,” the voice answered Path’s unasked question.
“My walls are strong. I build them well.” Path squinted at the light. “State your business and move on.”
The voice deepened, the light crept closer. “Walls are for the ones that see them little one. I chose not to.”
The beginnings of fear rose in Path. “This is my place, she thought. None can enter. You are not real.” Path tried to move away from the light. There was nothing to push against, nowhere to go. The enveloping void did not yield an escape.
Cackling laughter echoed from the light, “Oh yes. The words of such a wise soul. Real? I am here. Do you not hear and feel my presence?”
The laughter shocked Path into realization. “Soothsayer!” She felt for her ring. Bare skin. The golden light stopped. “How do you follow me?” Path questioned. “Why do you taunt me so?” Path kept her vision on the light. It’s pulsing quickened. The intensity of the light concentrated and grew. Path dared a glance around her. The blackness, the light, her own being was all she perceived. She counted the pulses as they fired. One…two...three, again and again the pace increasing. “Answer me” she spoke to the void. Her own voice was sucked into the nothingness without substance. “Answer” she shouted.
The light hesitated. Path assumed a defensive stance watching and waiting. The gentle pressure of her cocoon increased. She found it hard to draw a breath. All stilled around her. She smiled. The light shot towards her. It’s golden glow an arrow to her heart. The light impacted and surrounded Path, blinding her to all.
“Oh little one, how you have fallen” the Teller teased Path. “Light is hope and an eternal spring,” the voice mocked. “Do you not enjoy my golden light? It was a gift from you.”
The unseen scar on Path’s wrist began to throb. She tore at the hand that held her. Fingernails dug deeper as she struggled yet she did not relent in her fight for freedom. The voice spewed sickly laughter. The smell of flowers, too strong overwhelmed Path. The light burned her eyes. The nails tore her wrist. With all her strength that remained, Path screamed.
The golden light flashed and caught her attention. Path unfolded and reached towards the light. “Too far” she thought. She let her hand drop to her belly. The light pulsed again. Her heart beat faster as the beacon sent waves of gold in a steady rhythm. She calmed her racing heart. The light slowed in its display. “Curious, this pretty gem” she mused.
“You see beauty here my little one?” Path questioned the source of the voice. “Yes, yes…you are not alone in this sanctuary. I give you credit my Dear, these walls are indeed complete,” the voice answered Path’s unasked question.
“My walls are strong. I build them well.” Path squinted at the light. “State your business and move on.”
The voice deepened, the light crept closer. “Walls are for the ones that see them little one. I chose not to.”
The beginnings of fear rose in Path. “This is my place, she thought. None can enter. You are not real.” Path tried to move away from the light. There was nothing to push against, nowhere to go. The enveloping void did not yield an escape.
Cackling laughter echoed from the light, “Oh yes. The words of such a wise soul. Real? I am here. Do you not hear and feel my presence?”
The laughter shocked Path into realization. “Soothsayer!” She felt for her ring. Bare skin. The golden light stopped. “How do you follow me?” Path questioned. “Why do you taunt me so?” Path kept her vision on the light. It’s pulsing quickened. The intensity of the light concentrated and grew. Path dared a glance around her. The blackness, the light, her own being was all she perceived. She counted the pulses as they fired. One…two...three, again and again the pace increasing. “Answer me” she spoke to the void. Her own voice was sucked into the nothingness without substance. “Answer” she shouted.
The light hesitated. Path assumed a defensive stance watching and waiting. The gentle pressure of her cocoon increased. She found it hard to draw a breath. All stilled around her. She smiled. The light shot towards her. It’s golden glow an arrow to her heart. The light impacted and surrounded Path, blinding her to all.
“Oh little one, how you have fallen” the Teller teased Path. “Light is hope and an eternal spring,” the voice mocked. “Do you not enjoy my golden light? It was a gift from you.”
The unseen scar on Path’s wrist began to throb. She tore at the hand that held her. Fingernails dug deeper as she struggled yet she did not relent in her fight for freedom. The voice spewed sickly laughter. The smell of flowers, too strong overwhelmed Path. The light burned her eyes. The nails tore her wrist. With all her strength that remained, Path screamed.
Tales of Path - Silent Voices - Timeline 03003
“Binda. I hear you but I can’t see.” Hands grasped at deep gray clouds in a black sky. Path streamed the name in her mind, calling, repeating, chanting, “Binda, Binda…Binda.”
“Report” the technician mumbled. The medical unit purred while transmitting the data on patient 0032Path to the technician’s data pad. The soft female voice, in a sickly sweet tone announced, “Patient Path. All bodily systems are functioning at 100%. No change since last data stream.” The technician replied, “Transmission received. Report end.” He then shuffled to the table near the patient’s shoulder. Path’s personal com unit blinked with incoming messages. A bottle of Talusian water, tied with a sash of fine gauze remained unopened. He picked up a boars bristle hairbrush and drew long strokes through her dark hair. “Why does she sleep?” He wondered. An officer in the Imperial Order, outstanding record of achievements for the Empire and personal accomplishments as well. He touched her forehead with his fingertips, squinted his eyes and whispered, “Are you there?”
The metallic clink of metal made the technician pull away quickly. He turned to face the attending Physician. Hands fumbled with the brush, barely catching it as the handle slipped from his grasp. He placed the brush back on the table. “No change Sir.” He passed the data pad to the Doctor, straightened his tunic and waited, eyes darting from the floor to the patient.
The Doctor nodded. He looked to the glass ceiling and sighed. “122 turns. A long sleep indeed.” The room was bright with a golden glow from Tatooine’s twin suns. Walls reflected the lustrous light to every curving arch and all within. Path’s fair skin radiated a glow of health, yet she showed no signs of waking. The Doctor cleared his throat and declared, “The war is escalating. The talents of a healer such as our sleeper here will be greatly needed.” The Doctor turned to Path, “I can’t understand the trauma’s these healers of the soul endure. This is not the first to choose to sleep.” He handed the data pad back to the slouching technician, turned and left the room. The technician, in a voice so hushed it was more thought than whisper, leaned to the bed and breathed, “Wake for the right reason’s Miss Path. Not for the Empire, for yourself, when you are ready.” With that he quietly exited the room.
“Reasons. What reasons?” Path was confused. She concentrated her mind on her body. No wounds. No scars. No light. All senses were stilled. Thoughts raced and trailed Path’s mind in an ever-changing course of direction. The Empire, Azaziel, a ring, cackling laughter, a life before and one name she sought a face for…Binda. Path called out again. She felt a presence far in the darkness. One of comfort and understanding. She reached for that distant light only to be pulled away by yet another snatching thread of thought. Run, run. Path chased the prodding threads of thought, coming close to grasping only to be distracted by one more demanding. On she ran. Thought to thought, gray to black always hoping for one steady light to guide her.
“Report” the technician mumbled. The medical unit purred while transmitting the data on patient 0032Path to the technician’s data pad. The soft female voice, in a sickly sweet tone announced, “Patient Path. All bodily systems are functioning at 100%. No change since last data stream.” The technician replied, “Transmission received. Report end.” He then shuffled to the table near the patient’s shoulder. Path’s personal com unit blinked with incoming messages. A bottle of Talusian water, tied with a sash of fine gauze remained unopened. He picked up a boars bristle hairbrush and drew long strokes through her dark hair. “Why does she sleep?” He wondered. An officer in the Imperial Order, outstanding record of achievements for the Empire and personal accomplishments as well. He touched her forehead with his fingertips, squinted his eyes and whispered, “Are you there?”
The metallic clink of metal made the technician pull away quickly. He turned to face the attending Physician. Hands fumbled with the brush, barely catching it as the handle slipped from his grasp. He placed the brush back on the table. “No change Sir.” He passed the data pad to the Doctor, straightened his tunic and waited, eyes darting from the floor to the patient.
The Doctor nodded. He looked to the glass ceiling and sighed. “122 turns. A long sleep indeed.” The room was bright with a golden glow from Tatooine’s twin suns. Walls reflected the lustrous light to every curving arch and all within. Path’s fair skin radiated a glow of health, yet she showed no signs of waking. The Doctor cleared his throat and declared, “The war is escalating. The talents of a healer such as our sleeper here will be greatly needed.” The Doctor turned to Path, “I can’t understand the trauma’s these healers of the soul endure. This is not the first to choose to sleep.” He handed the data pad back to the slouching technician, turned and left the room. The technician, in a voice so hushed it was more thought than whisper, leaned to the bed and breathed, “Wake for the right reason’s Miss Path. Not for the Empire, for yourself, when you are ready.” With that he quietly exited the room.
“Reasons. What reasons?” Path was confused. She concentrated her mind on her body. No wounds. No scars. No light. All senses were stilled. Thoughts raced and trailed Path’s mind in an ever-changing course of direction. The Empire, Azaziel, a ring, cackling laughter, a life before and one name she sought a face for…Binda. Path called out again. She felt a presence far in the darkness. One of comfort and understanding. She reached for that distant light only to be pulled away by yet another snatching thread of thought. Run, run. Path chased the prodding threads of thought, coming close to grasping only to be distracted by one more demanding. On she ran. Thought to thought, gray to black always hoping for one steady light to guide her.
Tales of Path - The Healing - Timeline 03002
Egee Medical Center – Bestine, Tatooine
Twenty-five Turns from Present
A small child, deepest brown hair sweeping sanitized floors, curled into a tight ball. Her lips moved rapidly. Eyes closed. Not a sound save short rapid breaths emerged from the shivering form.
“Make it stop. It hurts. I want to be alone,” The young girl’s voice was heard only to herself. She felt wounds in every form. They tortured her body and attacked her mind. She pleaded, “Please go away. I can’t help you. Please, please stop.”
The Medics scooped up the child. They scanned; probed, prodded only to find a healthy child, approximate age of 7, female, in seemingly morbid pain. “Damned if I know why these scans don’t show the trouble,” The doctor slammed the palm sized diagnostic tool against her hip. “Take her to level 41. Isolate the child as a precautionary measure. It may be a new bio-virus. “A severed arm or seared shoulder I can deal with. A mystery I have no time for.” The doctor waved the orderlies to remove the child from her level and hurried off to the next patient.
Two men, one tall and human the other a product of some off planet genetic fad, steered the floating gurney to the waiting lift. “41,” the human worker announced.
Computerized vocals echoed off the polished steel enclosure, “Level 41 is a high bacta area. Please prepare for neutralizing. Commencing in 3, 2, 1.
The lift filled with a pink fog. The two men inhaled deeply. The process, not unpleasant however the thought of millions of unseen bio-probes scrubbing one’s insides was not exactly appealing. The lift shot up, pink clouds were suctioned into the vented floor. Silver panels clicked as they retreated to the walls of the lift. The orderlies methodically emerged and guided the still shivering child down the glassy hall. “Poor thing,” the taller orderly looked to the child. “And to be sequestered on Level 41.” He shook his head in a manner that suggested sorrow. The other orderly, eyes darting from patient to patient, continued with the gurney towards the waiting protocol droid. He understood the shields were safe yet remained uncomfortable with the absence of a tactile wall separating the healthy from the incurably ill.
“No, no, no, no….” the child screamed but none heard. She began building a wall. One of stone her mind constructed. She knelt and placed a rough block, reached for another and set it beside the first. “You can’t pass. See my wall? I will build it tall and strong. I will keep you out. I don’t want a wall but you are hurting me!” she cried. Small hands lifted each stone in place. Palms raw from the abrasion, she smoothed each stone as if trawling mortar. Tiny streaks of blood sealed the wall and distanced the voices.
“Her breathing is shallow now.” The tall orderly halted the floating pallet. He leaned to the child. Tenderly, the man pried open her lids to revel a hint of vivid green surrounding a black dilated pupil. “We need help. Stat!” The man smacked a circular panel. Silent alarms woke any nearby doctors. From behind a filling bacta tank a tall, slender woman felt the alarm. Not from any wizardry of modern science, but from within. She ran to the child. Two hands, one on either side of the now porcelain face pressed deeply into the shallow skin. The woman narrowed her eyes, held her breath and snatched the child from the bedding. Without explanation, she raced to lift.
“What are you doing with that patient? The orderly hurried after the kidnapper. The lady still cradling the child, raised her left hand in a stopping motion to the orderly. The man halted, nodded and cleared the lift.
Ak’Binda Haku, pulled the comatose form to her chest. In a hushed whisper she spoke to the child, “Wait little one. Hold off the last stone. Hold onto hope. There is still time and many things to learn.” Ak’Binda ran to the doors of the Medical Center. She held her gaze on the twin suns. All around blurred and stilled. The heavily tinted wall of glass parted. Heat assaulted Ak’Binda. She fell to the sands, child in her arms. “Hear me little one. Allow me to be your guide. Build your wall if it keeps you from harm but know, I can see beyond it. I see that stone you hold. The last, you fear to place. Keep it close but do not surrender.”
The child held the final block above her head. She stalled. From beyond her wall, or perhaps from within, a calming soul cautioned her and offered help. She hesitated. The stone grew heavy, it’s weight too much to push towards the wall. Small hands lowered the block and gently placed it in the warm sand.
“Ahh…there is hope.” The voice cooed. Ak’Binda smoothed the raven strands from sleepy green eyes. “You are not alone little one.” She opened her thoughts to the child, allowed her to pass beyond her own carefully constructed wall of stone and spirit. Together they journeyed in thought. The child’s mind allowed Ak’Binda to steal her wounds. The lady drew in pain, sorrow, fear and removed it from those emerald eyes. The little girl watched and understood. She allowed this lady to take what she had only before received. A slight smile formed on the girls face. The lady nodded, drew a deep breath and released all wounds to nothingness.
“I am Ak’Binda,” the woman raised her palm to the child. A swirling circle could be seen just at the bend of her wrist. It pulsed with form and color. Ever-changing. The child lifted her left hand, looked intently at the veins of her wrist and the unblemished skin. She turned her palm to Ak’Binda, “There is nothing there.” The small voice dared.
Terra cotta skies drew long shadows of teacher and apprentice along the cooling dune. Wrist met wrist, pulse met pulse. Two hands were lowered palm up to catch the falling light. Both glowed with swirling circles shifting in pattern and shade. “But there is,” Ak’Binda’s voice sang on the wind.
Twenty-five Turns from Present
A small child, deepest brown hair sweeping sanitized floors, curled into a tight ball. Her lips moved rapidly. Eyes closed. Not a sound save short rapid breaths emerged from the shivering form.
“Make it stop. It hurts. I want to be alone,” The young girl’s voice was heard only to herself. She felt wounds in every form. They tortured her body and attacked her mind. She pleaded, “Please go away. I can’t help you. Please, please stop.”
The Medics scooped up the child. They scanned; probed, prodded only to find a healthy child, approximate age of 7, female, in seemingly morbid pain. “Damned if I know why these scans don’t show the trouble,” The doctor slammed the palm sized diagnostic tool against her hip. “Take her to level 41. Isolate the child as a precautionary measure. It may be a new bio-virus. “A severed arm or seared shoulder I can deal with. A mystery I have no time for.” The doctor waved the orderlies to remove the child from her level and hurried off to the next patient.
Two men, one tall and human the other a product of some off planet genetic fad, steered the floating gurney to the waiting lift. “41,” the human worker announced.
Computerized vocals echoed off the polished steel enclosure, “Level 41 is a high bacta area. Please prepare for neutralizing. Commencing in 3, 2, 1.
The lift filled with a pink fog. The two men inhaled deeply. The process, not unpleasant however the thought of millions of unseen bio-probes scrubbing one’s insides was not exactly appealing. The lift shot up, pink clouds were suctioned into the vented floor. Silver panels clicked as they retreated to the walls of the lift. The orderlies methodically emerged and guided the still shivering child down the glassy hall. “Poor thing,” the taller orderly looked to the child. “And to be sequestered on Level 41.” He shook his head in a manner that suggested sorrow. The other orderly, eyes darting from patient to patient, continued with the gurney towards the waiting protocol droid. He understood the shields were safe yet remained uncomfortable with the absence of a tactile wall separating the healthy from the incurably ill.
“No, no, no, no….” the child screamed but none heard. She began building a wall. One of stone her mind constructed. She knelt and placed a rough block, reached for another and set it beside the first. “You can’t pass. See my wall? I will build it tall and strong. I will keep you out. I don’t want a wall but you are hurting me!” she cried. Small hands lifted each stone in place. Palms raw from the abrasion, she smoothed each stone as if trawling mortar. Tiny streaks of blood sealed the wall and distanced the voices.
“Her breathing is shallow now.” The tall orderly halted the floating pallet. He leaned to the child. Tenderly, the man pried open her lids to revel a hint of vivid green surrounding a black dilated pupil. “We need help. Stat!” The man smacked a circular panel. Silent alarms woke any nearby doctors. From behind a filling bacta tank a tall, slender woman felt the alarm. Not from any wizardry of modern science, but from within. She ran to the child. Two hands, one on either side of the now porcelain face pressed deeply into the shallow skin. The woman narrowed her eyes, held her breath and snatched the child from the bedding. Without explanation, she raced to lift.
“What are you doing with that patient? The orderly hurried after the kidnapper. The lady still cradling the child, raised her left hand in a stopping motion to the orderly. The man halted, nodded and cleared the lift.
Ak’Binda Haku, pulled the comatose form to her chest. In a hushed whisper she spoke to the child, “Wait little one. Hold off the last stone. Hold onto hope. There is still time and many things to learn.” Ak’Binda ran to the doors of the Medical Center. She held her gaze on the twin suns. All around blurred and stilled. The heavily tinted wall of glass parted. Heat assaulted Ak’Binda. She fell to the sands, child in her arms. “Hear me little one. Allow me to be your guide. Build your wall if it keeps you from harm but know, I can see beyond it. I see that stone you hold. The last, you fear to place. Keep it close but do not surrender.”
The child held the final block above her head. She stalled. From beyond her wall, or perhaps from within, a calming soul cautioned her and offered help. She hesitated. The stone grew heavy, it’s weight too much to push towards the wall. Small hands lowered the block and gently placed it in the warm sand.
“Ahh…there is hope.” The voice cooed. Ak’Binda smoothed the raven strands from sleepy green eyes. “You are not alone little one.” She opened her thoughts to the child, allowed her to pass beyond her own carefully constructed wall of stone and spirit. Together they journeyed in thought. The child’s mind allowed Ak’Binda to steal her wounds. The lady drew in pain, sorrow, fear and removed it from those emerald eyes. The little girl watched and understood. She allowed this lady to take what she had only before received. A slight smile formed on the girls face. The lady nodded, drew a deep breath and released all wounds to nothingness.
“I am Ak’Binda,” the woman raised her palm to the child. A swirling circle could be seen just at the bend of her wrist. It pulsed with form and color. Ever-changing. The child lifted her left hand, looked intently at the veins of her wrist and the unblemished skin. She turned her palm to Ak’Binda, “There is nothing there.” The small voice dared.
Terra cotta skies drew long shadows of teacher and apprentice along the cooling dune. Wrist met wrist, pulse met pulse. Two hands were lowered palm up to catch the falling light. Both glowed with swirling circles shifting in pattern and shade. “But there is,” Ak’Binda’s voice sang on the wind.
Tales of Path - The Teller - Timeline 03001
The polished streets of Coronet were slick from an early rain. Even with inclement weather, throngs of beings swarmed. Barkers, some with inventive sales pitches, most just in a harsh loud voice, overlapped and made all comprehension impossible. Path disliked this city. It’s towering enclosures of reflective synthetic walls held no warmth. Quiet the contrary. This metropolis seemed to leach power for the ever-inching towers directly from the souls and purses of its inhabitants.
“I won’t stay long, I won’t stay long…” Path chanted to herself. She checked the coordinates of the pawnshop and activated the directional beacon. “Thank the Empire it is within walking distance.” Path shouldered her pack, patted the ever-shrinking pouch of Galactic credits and slid sideways between two bickering Bothans.
Path remembered a time when credits were not a concern. She had worked hard within the Empire and spent long days hunting rare skins and meat. Hardship befell her. Increasing demands of her time did not allow hunting excursions. She was fairly well stocked but recently, she realized the crates were empting at a rapid pace.
Path fingered the golden band on her left hand. She thought back to Talus and her determination at acquiring a matched set. One she kept, one she gave along with her heart. The promise was never to be spoken. The ring, just a band now, a constant reminder of her failure. The AaKuan’s were not a difficult target, they just traveled often without their fabled jewels. Persistent was strong in Path. Never give up. Never say never. The words of a dear friend brought a small light to her eyes,
Hope springs eternal
She often thought of those words. Oh how she wished to believe. Hope. The last remaining spirit when all else is gone. Right now Path hoped to get a fair price on her treasured ring. “Such a waste of a wish.”
The beacon grew closer. Her destination appeared to be less than 600 meters away. Path tried to see over the heads of the pressing crowd. A small alley emerged to the east. Even the strict city ordinances keeping Coronet clean could not mask the filth that this city held. She entered the alley. “At least there is breathing room here,” Path spoke to the walls of this artificial crevice. She dodged a few skittering humans, seemingly intoxicated and smelling of soured enhanced wine. She kept her eyes open. Inspecting the street for the vagrants. It would do no good to lose what she braved to sell. Path felt the air stir on her shirt. She narrowed her eyes and let her hand slip to the leather wrapped grip of her sheathed blade. A cackling laughter caused her to spin towards her target. Faster than Path expected, a grizzled hand stayed her blade. The black glass wall she faced melted towards her, reveling an old woman, black cape shrouding all but two yellowed eyes.
Path calmed herself. This creature of the alley was no match for her skills. The woman, unarmed and meters shorter than Path continued to grasp her hand. Path pulled back, the old creature’s grip tightened. “State you business citizen.” Path announced.
“How quickly she forgets.” The voice, high and irritating assaulted Path. Fingernails sharp and blackened burrowed into Path’s wrist. Without looking, Path knew the skin was broken. She felt the warm blood run to her palm. “This is not pain my dear, the wounds I see in you lie much deeper than the surface of your fair silken skin.” The voice stabbed. “I see lies. I see truth. I see a future of solitude.” The old woman persisted, “They care not dearest Path. You place your trust in those that take not from your purse, but from your very spirit.”
Entranced in the voice, Path tried to ignore this soothsayer. She felt no pain from the embedded fingernails. She heard no voice except the old woman’s. An envelope of comforting blackness began to enfold Path. The Sayers truths dissolving her carefully constructed walls. The voice became less a language and more a probing force. Path’s vision swirled and blurred. Hand still caught in the woman’s claw, she folded to the wet street of the alley.
The voice, speaking from within, laughed at Path. “Hope springs eternal.” The voice cracked and continued to torture Path’s mind. “Where is your spring now little one?”
Path did not feel the ring as it was removed from her finger. She heard not the footfalls of medics as they ran to her. Path floated in the blackness, content to stay there.
“I won’t stay long, I won’t stay long…” Path chanted to herself. She checked the coordinates of the pawnshop and activated the directional beacon. “Thank the Empire it is within walking distance.” Path shouldered her pack, patted the ever-shrinking pouch of Galactic credits and slid sideways between two bickering Bothans.
Path remembered a time when credits were not a concern. She had worked hard within the Empire and spent long days hunting rare skins and meat. Hardship befell her. Increasing demands of her time did not allow hunting excursions. She was fairly well stocked but recently, she realized the crates were empting at a rapid pace.
Path fingered the golden band on her left hand. She thought back to Talus and her determination at acquiring a matched set. One she kept, one she gave along with her heart. The promise was never to be spoken. The ring, just a band now, a constant reminder of her failure. The AaKuan’s were not a difficult target, they just traveled often without their fabled jewels. Persistent was strong in Path. Never give up. Never say never. The words of a dear friend brought a small light to her eyes,
Hope springs eternal
She often thought of those words. Oh how she wished to believe. Hope. The last remaining spirit when all else is gone. Right now Path hoped to get a fair price on her treasured ring. “Such a waste of a wish.”
The beacon grew closer. Her destination appeared to be less than 600 meters away. Path tried to see over the heads of the pressing crowd. A small alley emerged to the east. Even the strict city ordinances keeping Coronet clean could not mask the filth that this city held. She entered the alley. “At least there is breathing room here,” Path spoke to the walls of this artificial crevice. She dodged a few skittering humans, seemingly intoxicated and smelling of soured enhanced wine. She kept her eyes open. Inspecting the street for the vagrants. It would do no good to lose what she braved to sell. Path felt the air stir on her shirt. She narrowed her eyes and let her hand slip to the leather wrapped grip of her sheathed blade. A cackling laughter caused her to spin towards her target. Faster than Path expected, a grizzled hand stayed her blade. The black glass wall she faced melted towards her, reveling an old woman, black cape shrouding all but two yellowed eyes.
Path calmed herself. This creature of the alley was no match for her skills. The woman, unarmed and meters shorter than Path continued to grasp her hand. Path pulled back, the old creature’s grip tightened. “State you business citizen.” Path announced.
“How quickly she forgets.” The voice, high and irritating assaulted Path. Fingernails sharp and blackened burrowed into Path’s wrist. Without looking, Path knew the skin was broken. She felt the warm blood run to her palm. “This is not pain my dear, the wounds I see in you lie much deeper than the surface of your fair silken skin.” The voice stabbed. “I see lies. I see truth. I see a future of solitude.” The old woman persisted, “They care not dearest Path. You place your trust in those that take not from your purse, but from your very spirit.”
Entranced in the voice, Path tried to ignore this soothsayer. She felt no pain from the embedded fingernails. She heard no voice except the old woman’s. An envelope of comforting blackness began to enfold Path. The Sayers truths dissolving her carefully constructed walls. The voice became less a language and more a probing force. Path’s vision swirled and blurred. Hand still caught in the woman’s claw, she folded to the wet street of the alley.
The voice, speaking from within, laughed at Path. “Hope springs eternal.” The voice cracked and continued to torture Path’s mind. “Where is your spring now little one?”
Path did not feel the ring as it was removed from her finger. She heard not the footfalls of medics as they ran to her. Path floated in the blackness, content to stay there.
Tales of Path - Shifting Sky - Timeline 02002
Moist air laden with a seemingly sticky substance clung to the porch and brick of Path’s beach home. Visibility was sparse at dawn. Soon the sun would burn trails from the horizon to the land. This time of a turn, struggle as it may, the sun would begin to lose its battle against the coming cold.
Wrapped in a light shawl, hands around a warm mug of the local stimulant, Path let the sea air and dancing waves gently wake her. She adored these quiet moments. The comm tucked in her desk to muffle its attention, couldn’t breach this mantle of peace. Hair and clothes in disarray with no eyes that criticize. Flocking Peko-Peko’s rode the thermals, breaking free and diving for the teal waters to grasp a bluefish.
A crate of Ringold’s in shades of violet and gold had been delivered and placed on the sand awaiting planting. Such small blossoms, so fragile, Path mused as she considered where to set them to soil. She abandoned the mug and rose. Arms reaching towards the fading moon, she let her head fall back while rotating her shoulders in small circles. Hands grasping nothingness she drew in and released a deep breath. Not yet awake but not in dreams, Path knelt to the task at hand.
Stems, now barren except for a few struggling petals, showed their weakness to the chill of the turns air. Path never enjoyed pulling these flowers from the sandy soil. Path thought, why can’t they just wither and dry so I don’t fell like I am shortening their life? It would be so much easier. Pressing into the soil, Path sought the root. Prying fingers between a web of tendrils, she lifted the fading plant from the dirt. White, still fragrant petals floated in a spiral to her feet. A sharp scream from the feeding Peko-Peko’s seemed to echo the dying blooms.
Path carefully prepared the beds to support new life in the coming days of frigid temperatures. With a touch ever so light, she set each Ringold to the musky soil. Each tiny seedling held its secrets. Would they survive the days ahead? Can they thrive in Path’s care? What colors and scents do these closed buds conceal? Only in time and with nurturing would their secrets be told. Path knew that not all would survive. It is the way of things. Some would die. Others would grow and color the garden. Out of the pallet, a few would thrive in her care, towering above all others and filling the air with a heady perfume. Path would come to know each petal and smile at the flowers fortitude and strength. These are also the blooms that would require pulling at the season’s end yet the memory of such jewels held forever in full bloom.
Waves turned with the tide. The air now tepid as the sun rose higher. Crystals of salt glistened on the bricks of Path’s house and the newly planted flowers turned to capture light. The plants that were pulled Path tossed to the sea, all but a few white petals. These she cradled in cupped palms.
Path set the petals on her desk. Using an antique key carved from Bantha tusk, she unlocked the redwood hope chest. The scent of memories rose. She removed a leather bound book it’s title illegible. Without looking, Path opened the heavy volume. She smoothed the parchment trailing fingertips across handwritten words. The pristine white petals she carefully placed on the open page. Slowly, so as not to disturb their sleep, she closed the book and returned it to it’s resting place among other treasures. Key clicked to lock, Path’s task was done.
Gilded letters on taupe caught her attention.
The well-known Senator of Entertainment, Miss Clara Wren and the Senator of Finances, Mister Web Goldring, will be wed on Saturday, Nov. 6that 6:00 PM EST.
Wrapped in a light shawl, hands around a warm mug of the local stimulant, Path let the sea air and dancing waves gently wake her. She adored these quiet moments. The comm tucked in her desk to muffle its attention, couldn’t breach this mantle of peace. Hair and clothes in disarray with no eyes that criticize. Flocking Peko-Peko’s rode the thermals, breaking free and diving for the teal waters to grasp a bluefish.
A crate of Ringold’s in shades of violet and gold had been delivered and placed on the sand awaiting planting. Such small blossoms, so fragile, Path mused as she considered where to set them to soil. She abandoned the mug and rose. Arms reaching towards the fading moon, she let her head fall back while rotating her shoulders in small circles. Hands grasping nothingness she drew in and released a deep breath. Not yet awake but not in dreams, Path knelt to the task at hand.
Stems, now barren except for a few struggling petals, showed their weakness to the chill of the turns air. Path never enjoyed pulling these flowers from the sandy soil. Path thought, why can’t they just wither and dry so I don’t fell like I am shortening their life? It would be so much easier. Pressing into the soil, Path sought the root. Prying fingers between a web of tendrils, she lifted the fading plant from the dirt. White, still fragrant petals floated in a spiral to her feet. A sharp scream from the feeding Peko-Peko’s seemed to echo the dying blooms.
Path carefully prepared the beds to support new life in the coming days of frigid temperatures. With a touch ever so light, she set each Ringold to the musky soil. Each tiny seedling held its secrets. Would they survive the days ahead? Can they thrive in Path’s care? What colors and scents do these closed buds conceal? Only in time and with nurturing would their secrets be told. Path knew that not all would survive. It is the way of things. Some would die. Others would grow and color the garden. Out of the pallet, a few would thrive in her care, towering above all others and filling the air with a heady perfume. Path would come to know each petal and smile at the flowers fortitude and strength. These are also the blooms that would require pulling at the season’s end yet the memory of such jewels held forever in full bloom.
Waves turned with the tide. The air now tepid as the sun rose higher. Crystals of salt glistened on the bricks of Path’s house and the newly planted flowers turned to capture light. The plants that were pulled Path tossed to the sea, all but a few white petals. These she cradled in cupped palms.
Path set the petals on her desk. Using an antique key carved from Bantha tusk, she unlocked the redwood hope chest. The scent of memories rose. She removed a leather bound book it’s title illegible. Without looking, Path opened the heavy volume. She smoothed the parchment trailing fingertips across handwritten words. The pristine white petals she carefully placed on the open page. Slowly, so as not to disturb their sleep, she closed the book and returned it to it’s resting place among other treasures. Key clicked to lock, Path’s task was done.
Gilded letters on taupe caught her attention.
The well-known Senator of Entertainment, Miss Clara Wren and the Senator of Finances, Mister Web Goldring, will be wed on Saturday, Nov. 6that 6:00 PM EST.
The ceremony will be held by Mayor Sidious Inoxi in the Farpoint City Hall
Ahh…the wedding is today, she remembered. Path started her bath and went to the armoire. A dress the color of the Tatooine sunset hung from the pegs. She sighed. Such a fine gift from the Mayor. She loved the feel of the fabric against bare skin. Beside the gown, her Imperial Uniform looked more than a dull gray. The fabric rough and stiff it’s appearance as imposing as the Empire behind it.
The Colonel requested all officers to dress for the occasion. She longed to slip into the silks. Forget the duties of her commission and awaken the woman within. What to wear? She pondered.
Ahh…the wedding is today, she remembered. Path started her bath and went to the armoire. A dress the color of the Tatooine sunset hung from the pegs. She sighed. Such a fine gift from the Mayor. She loved the feel of the fabric against bare skin. Beside the gown, her Imperial Uniform looked more than a dull gray. The fabric rough and stiff it’s appearance as imposing as the Empire behind it.
The Colonel requested all officers to dress for the occasion. She longed to slip into the silks. Forget the duties of her commission and awaken the woman within. What to wear? She pondered.
Tales of Path - Open Window - Timeline 02001
Path pressed a finger into the warm spongy bread and watched it slowly rise. She closed her eyes and languished in the comforting scent of a loaf fresh from the oven. Through the open window, the sea air mixed a tang of salt with the yeasty warmth of her beach home.
Tavis filled the stone mugs with an herbal tea. “Perhaps we should postpone the trip to Tatooine. Seems the skies have a bit of a temper tonight.”
He walked to the open window, strong arms reaching to pull the sash down.
“No!” Path’s voice was harsh. She bit her lip and softly added, “I keep that open…always.”
Tavis turned from the billowing curtains and faced Path. “A little night air is intoxicating but I doubt we need this much of the storm’s elixir.” He looked at Path as she played with her bread. She knew he was waiting for an explanation.
Thoughts of Azaziel crept into Path’s thoughts. She ran her hands through her hair and composed her reason. Tavis took a seat opposite her and with that honest smile, waited.
Path sighed. I leave it open for Azaziel. “There are times when I think he stands on the beach and watches. Not in a voyeuristic manner, more like an attempt to know of my current happenings.” Path rose and walked to the window. “I really don’t mind. I guess I still hope that someday his voice will catch on the breeze and bring me a greeting.”
Tavis placed one hand on Path’s shoulder, the other on the sash. “My Lady, there is also a door.” He gently closed the window. The damp curtains settled in luminous folds. He lifted Path’s chin and smiled. Her green eyes reflecting loss and hope, sadness and joy.
Path knew he was right. She would never be able to push past Azaziel’s unexplained departure with opens windows and in full view of his scrutiny. She wondered, Why is it so hard to close this chapter?
The storm pounded against the glass. Candles flickered, her home a calm in the storm. Path wrapped her arms around Tavis and let his quiet countenance still her thoughts. He was fast becoming a fine friend his company always welcomed.
A sharp bleep woke Path from the comforting embrace. “Busy Lady” Tavis laughed. Path went to her comm panel and pressed accept for the incoming message.
To: Minister Path
Tavis filled the stone mugs with an herbal tea. “Perhaps we should postpone the trip to Tatooine. Seems the skies have a bit of a temper tonight.”
He walked to the open window, strong arms reaching to pull the sash down.
“No!” Path’s voice was harsh. She bit her lip and softly added, “I keep that open…always.”
Tavis turned from the billowing curtains and faced Path. “A little night air is intoxicating but I doubt we need this much of the storm’s elixir.” He looked at Path as she played with her bread. She knew he was waiting for an explanation.
Thoughts of Azaziel crept into Path’s thoughts. She ran her hands through her hair and composed her reason. Tavis took a seat opposite her and with that honest smile, waited.
Path sighed. I leave it open for Azaziel. “There are times when I think he stands on the beach and watches. Not in a voyeuristic manner, more like an attempt to know of my current happenings.” Path rose and walked to the window. “I really don’t mind. I guess I still hope that someday his voice will catch on the breeze and bring me a greeting.”
Tavis placed one hand on Path’s shoulder, the other on the sash. “My Lady, there is also a door.” He gently closed the window. The damp curtains settled in luminous folds. He lifted Path’s chin and smiled. Her green eyes reflecting loss and hope, sadness and joy.
Path knew he was right. She would never be able to push past Azaziel’s unexplained departure with opens windows and in full view of his scrutiny. She wondered, Why is it so hard to close this chapter?
The storm pounded against the glass. Candles flickered, her home a calm in the storm. Path wrapped her arms around Tavis and let his quiet countenance still her thoughts. He was fast becoming a fine friend his company always welcomed.
A sharp bleep woke Path from the comforting embrace. “Busy Lady” Tavis laughed. Path went to her comm panel and pressed accept for the incoming message.
To: Minister Path
From: Mayor Sidoius
Subject: Sister City Alliance
My Dear Path,
It seems we missed each other the other day. I tried to establish a link but a storm on Tatooine halted all outgoing communications. The Alliance is progressing nicely. I expect a formal date to be decided within the week. In the meantime…perhaps I can sway you to join me for dinner this evening. All matters of business aside, I look forward to some time alone with you. Use my personal frequency to contact me when you can get away.
Respectfully (and in other ways)
Sid
Path smiled, “The Mayor” she whispered. Her thoughts drifted. Now what am I to do?
Subject: Sister City Alliance
My Dear Path,
It seems we missed each other the other day. I tried to establish a link but a storm on Tatooine halted all outgoing communications. The Alliance is progressing nicely. I expect a formal date to be decided within the week. In the meantime…perhaps I can sway you to join me for dinner this evening. All matters of business aside, I look forward to some time alone with you. Use my personal frequency to contact me when you can get away.
Respectfully (and in other ways)
Sid
Path smiled, “The Mayor” she whispered. Her thoughts drifted. Now what am I to do?
The Ring
The ring with all its endless turns
Seems to tell of two.
Perhaps a promise made in love.
Friendship held that grew.
Twas on a silent summer’s eve
That he timidly took a knee
And asked the question his heart held back
On former nights as these.
No thought she gave when her reply
Echoed through the glade.
Her soul had answered, taken flight
No witness to forbade.
To reason why these two exchanged
Those endless silver bands,
Exceeds all logic this world holds
Two similar grains of sand.
Dance within the circle drawn.
Never step outside.
Melded hearts and open minds
Passion as their only guide.
Quest and quiet evening passed.
Mornings wrapped in down.
Whisperings of taboo’s snapped.
Two voices heaven bound.
The music played and on they danced.
Lost in each other’s grace.
Then tenderly two leaned to kiss
The circles edge erased.
Beyond the lines so carefully drawn
These two explored their bond.
Laughter, passion, wonders grew
Till need for touch they longed.
A dream they shared until the day
The storm of jealousy blew.
And with those tiny stones they tossed
They woke from one as two.
She ran the fields of grasses tall.
Then in her head she heard,
“My ring is off, I break the bond,”
And so her wings were furled.
Two circles sketched in shifting sand.
Side by side they stay.
One smooth grain is all they share
The others blown away.
Hidden deep and out of reach
A silver band still lives.
It’s endless curves and dreams of two
Holds hope for souls amiss.
Seems to tell of two.
Perhaps a promise made in love.
Friendship held that grew.
Twas on a silent summer’s eve
That he timidly took a knee
And asked the question his heart held back
On former nights as these.
No thought she gave when her reply
Echoed through the glade.
Her soul had answered, taken flight
No witness to forbade.
To reason why these two exchanged
Those endless silver bands,
Exceeds all logic this world holds
Two similar grains of sand.
Dance within the circle drawn.
Never step outside.
Melded hearts and open minds
Passion as their only guide.
Quest and quiet evening passed.
Mornings wrapped in down.
Whisperings of taboo’s snapped.
Two voices heaven bound.
The music played and on they danced.
Lost in each other’s grace.
Then tenderly two leaned to kiss
The circles edge erased.
Beyond the lines so carefully drawn
These two explored their bond.
Laughter, passion, wonders grew
Till need for touch they longed.
A dream they shared until the day
The storm of jealousy blew.
And with those tiny stones they tossed
They woke from one as two.
She ran the fields of grasses tall.
Then in her head she heard,
“My ring is off, I break the bond,”
And so her wings were furled.
Two circles sketched in shifting sand.
Side by side they stay.
One smooth grain is all they share
The others blown away.
Hidden deep and out of reach
A silver band still lives.
It’s endless curves and dreams of two
Holds hope for souls amiss.
Home
“Tis a fine home Darlin.” A sweep of his leather cape caused the candles to dance shadows on the adobe walls.
Anna let out a small breath. It had taken near a month of searching small shops to bring this vision of a home to reality. Graph’s work kept him traveling. She was unsure of every decision made concerning the house. Anna knew this dwelling was important to Graph. She had wandered through countless estates, noting details, colors, lighting, furnishings and even peeking in pantries. She paced each hall of her new home countless times, inspecting her work from every angle. To Anna it felt like home. It is by far one of the most beautiful villa’s she has seen. Never before had she lived in such splendor. Fine woven rugs of intricate designs hypnotized her. Tactile wools beckoned her to trace the patterns with her finger. Scented flames illuminated the priceless artifacts and paintings. Anna was given all the funds to bring this house to life and he was pleased.
Graph let his eyes wander the room. She could see him analyzing every nook. He swung the heavy cape from his shoulders and neatly placed it across the ottoman. Anna waited. Relief flooded her. Perhaps now, they could plan the travels so often talked about.
Anna stood quietly, head slightly bowed and eyes watching Graph. His hand came to rest upon her cheek. She closed her eyes languishing in this tender touch. He leaned to place kiss softly whispering, “Do you know how much I love you”?
Anna knew his feelings were real. They had met a mere month prior. Call it fate, chance, happenstance, she knew there was more to this man than his open thoughts and beautiful being. Their worlds collided quickly. Many hours were spent watching the dunes from a makeshift camp while the house was under construction. They talked of dreams and reality. They confided and consoled. Graph recently lost his wife after a lengthy struggle against a modern beast. Anna listened as he told of his past, his love, his children now living at his old dwelling. She wanted so much to meet the children. To help Graph with the simple tasks of life however, that occasion was many moons away. He spent most of his time with the babes, as it should be. When life allowed and work didn’t demand, Graph would seek out Anna.
It seemed to her he spoke of love all too quickly. Anna was reserved. She felt her heart beat in time with his. She also guarded it. Graph had a long journey ahead. He was faced with memories of a true love. Haunted willingly by his ghost. Anna knew this. She knew the truths of grief. She wondered at his happiness. He walked an ever-present blade. One side dark, the other light. A slip to either side upsetting the precious balance.
“Now tell me of your day. What mischief have you been up too? His words asked the question but his eyes spoke of other desires.
Days and nights, mornings of lingering pleasures passed. They ran to each other when life allowed. Anna was happy. She forgot his pain. He seemed to be healing. They set a date to emerge from their reclusive meetings. The winds of autumn cooled the evenings. Their rendezvous was to be in the spring. In that season of new beginnings they would share a dance and hide from questioning eyes no more.
Anna spent the majority of her time in the new villa. She maintained it’s pristine appearance and rarely left the comfort of this palace. She had friends over for brandy and quiet conversation. Close companions of many years tried to persuade Anna to attend gatherings. Anna declined. She wanted to be home should Graph brave the journey.
Graph’s time with Anna slowed. Correspondences, once frequent, were now rare. He would contact her briefly from a distant town, inquire as to her being, state that demands required his attention and swiftly depart.
“Perhaps in a few days we can dance Anna.” His voice was that of a stranger. Anna felt him pulling away. She was unsure of his state of mind. Anna wondered and worried and waited.
Days to weeks and joy to pain. Anna sent letters of concern. None were answered save one.
Graph wrote, “The pain I feel threatens to overwhelm me constantly. Emotionally I’m a wreck. I can’t continue with you when I don’t even have a handle on myself. Right now I need quiet in my life and that is what I am trying to achieve.”
Anna understood. The loss of Graph’s wife filled his every thought. He no longer wished to open himself to Anna. Even with understanding, Anna’s pain was real. She sent a final letter, letting him go. Her love for Graph had deepened. She knew this time would come yet the happiness they shared overshadowed this fate.
Anna looked around at the house they had built. A fine house it was. A home it never became. She placed a small token in her pack and turned her back on hope.
Friends came and went. They consoled her, tried to cheer her. She spent her days in a haze of wonder. She spent nights in dreams of what could have been. Anna ventured to the house concerned that it may require attention. Sitting alone on the steps was Graph. She knelt to him. “Graph, are you well? Is there anything I can offer?
He never looked away from the dunes. He spoke not a word. Anna headed to the door only to find it locked. From her pack Anna withdrew a flask of water and moistened the end of her shawl. She gently cleansed the sand from Graph’s face. Tenderly she smoothed back his dark hair and placed a kiss upon his forehead. “All wounds heal in time my love.” Anna remained with him as the sun set. Two people alone in the world. Both waiting.
Spring arrived with vibrant colors and breezes fragrant with blooms. Anna made her pilgrimage to the house. Ritualistically, she cleansed Graph. Words were never spoken. Graph’s eyes never left the sea of sand.
Seasons changed, years passed. Anna never relented in her visits. She softly washed the grains from Graph’s lips. Smoothed back his silver hair and placed a kiss upon a wrinkled brow. Anna’s daughter accompanied her to the desert. The daughter sat, arm around Anna as three waited for the sun to meet the horizon. Strong arms sweetly escorted Anna away. Anna felt warm tears fall to her neck. She looked into her daughter’s eyes, smiled and slept.
The heat of the sand caressed Anna’s bare feet. She ran to Graph, bright green eyes reflecting a forever spring. “Graph. You must wake now. We have company. There is one here to hold you that has waited longer than I. Awake my dear. The wait is over.”
Behind Anna the silhouette of a young woman appeared. She walked to Ann. Two pairs of arms embraced each other. The two ladies turned to Graph. Together they cleansed Graph. Two voices, singing in soft harmony.
Anna let out a small breath. It had taken near a month of searching small shops to bring this vision of a home to reality. Graph’s work kept him traveling. She was unsure of every decision made concerning the house. Anna knew this dwelling was important to Graph. She had wandered through countless estates, noting details, colors, lighting, furnishings and even peeking in pantries. She paced each hall of her new home countless times, inspecting her work from every angle. To Anna it felt like home. It is by far one of the most beautiful villa’s she has seen. Never before had she lived in such splendor. Fine woven rugs of intricate designs hypnotized her. Tactile wools beckoned her to trace the patterns with her finger. Scented flames illuminated the priceless artifacts and paintings. Anna was given all the funds to bring this house to life and he was pleased.
Graph let his eyes wander the room. She could see him analyzing every nook. He swung the heavy cape from his shoulders and neatly placed it across the ottoman. Anna waited. Relief flooded her. Perhaps now, they could plan the travels so often talked about.
Anna stood quietly, head slightly bowed and eyes watching Graph. His hand came to rest upon her cheek. She closed her eyes languishing in this tender touch. He leaned to place kiss softly whispering, “Do you know how much I love you”?
Anna knew his feelings were real. They had met a mere month prior. Call it fate, chance, happenstance, she knew there was more to this man than his open thoughts and beautiful being. Their worlds collided quickly. Many hours were spent watching the dunes from a makeshift camp while the house was under construction. They talked of dreams and reality. They confided and consoled. Graph recently lost his wife after a lengthy struggle against a modern beast. Anna listened as he told of his past, his love, his children now living at his old dwelling. She wanted so much to meet the children. To help Graph with the simple tasks of life however, that occasion was many moons away. He spent most of his time with the babes, as it should be. When life allowed and work didn’t demand, Graph would seek out Anna.
It seemed to her he spoke of love all too quickly. Anna was reserved. She felt her heart beat in time with his. She also guarded it. Graph had a long journey ahead. He was faced with memories of a true love. Haunted willingly by his ghost. Anna knew this. She knew the truths of grief. She wondered at his happiness. He walked an ever-present blade. One side dark, the other light. A slip to either side upsetting the precious balance.
“Now tell me of your day. What mischief have you been up too? His words asked the question but his eyes spoke of other desires.
Days and nights, mornings of lingering pleasures passed. They ran to each other when life allowed. Anna was happy. She forgot his pain. He seemed to be healing. They set a date to emerge from their reclusive meetings. The winds of autumn cooled the evenings. Their rendezvous was to be in the spring. In that season of new beginnings they would share a dance and hide from questioning eyes no more.
Anna spent the majority of her time in the new villa. She maintained it’s pristine appearance and rarely left the comfort of this palace. She had friends over for brandy and quiet conversation. Close companions of many years tried to persuade Anna to attend gatherings. Anna declined. She wanted to be home should Graph brave the journey.
Graph’s time with Anna slowed. Correspondences, once frequent, were now rare. He would contact her briefly from a distant town, inquire as to her being, state that demands required his attention and swiftly depart.
“Perhaps in a few days we can dance Anna.” His voice was that of a stranger. Anna felt him pulling away. She was unsure of his state of mind. Anna wondered and worried and waited.
Days to weeks and joy to pain. Anna sent letters of concern. None were answered save one.
Graph wrote, “The pain I feel threatens to overwhelm me constantly. Emotionally I’m a wreck. I can’t continue with you when I don’t even have a handle on myself. Right now I need quiet in my life and that is what I am trying to achieve.”
Anna understood. The loss of Graph’s wife filled his every thought. He no longer wished to open himself to Anna. Even with understanding, Anna’s pain was real. She sent a final letter, letting him go. Her love for Graph had deepened. She knew this time would come yet the happiness they shared overshadowed this fate.
Anna looked around at the house they had built. A fine house it was. A home it never became. She placed a small token in her pack and turned her back on hope.
Friends came and went. They consoled her, tried to cheer her. She spent her days in a haze of wonder. She spent nights in dreams of what could have been. Anna ventured to the house concerned that it may require attention. Sitting alone on the steps was Graph. She knelt to him. “Graph, are you well? Is there anything I can offer?
He never looked away from the dunes. He spoke not a word. Anna headed to the door only to find it locked. From her pack Anna withdrew a flask of water and moistened the end of her shawl. She gently cleansed the sand from Graph’s face. Tenderly she smoothed back his dark hair and placed a kiss upon his forehead. “All wounds heal in time my love.” Anna remained with him as the sun set. Two people alone in the world. Both waiting.
Spring arrived with vibrant colors and breezes fragrant with blooms. Anna made her pilgrimage to the house. Ritualistically, she cleansed Graph. Words were never spoken. Graph’s eyes never left the sea of sand.
Seasons changed, years passed. Anna never relented in her visits. She softly washed the grains from Graph’s lips. Smoothed back his silver hair and placed a kiss upon a wrinkled brow. Anna’s daughter accompanied her to the desert. The daughter sat, arm around Anna as three waited for the sun to meet the horizon. Strong arms sweetly escorted Anna away. Anna felt warm tears fall to her neck. She looked into her daughter’s eyes, smiled and slept.
The heat of the sand caressed Anna’s bare feet. She ran to Graph, bright green eyes reflecting a forever spring. “Graph. You must wake now. We have company. There is one here to hold you that has waited longer than I. Awake my dear. The wait is over.”
Behind Anna the silhouette of a young woman appeared. She walked to Ann. Two pairs of arms embraced each other. The two ladies turned to Graph. Together they cleansed Graph. Two voices, singing in soft harmony.
A Promise
Through sightless sight I watch a soul
Held within from awakening.
Your spirit, vibrant and on the edge
Of wild knows my very being.
By chance or fate we pause to
Share a breath.
We see beyond into each other’s mirrors.
Yet simple sight we dare not view.
Lest path’s diverge from one to two.
When the light obscures the stars,
Do they not still shine?
This I know is true.
When all light fails my love for you
Will guide me, find me, calm and keep me
Forever in your arms.
All I can promise is the moment.
The rest I leave to destiny.
Held within from awakening.
Your spirit, vibrant and on the edge
Of wild knows my very being.
By chance or fate we pause to
Share a breath.
We see beyond into each other’s mirrors.
Yet simple sight we dare not view.
Lest path’s diverge from one to two.
When the light obscures the stars,
Do they not still shine?
This I know is true.
When all light fails my love for you
Will guide me, find me, calm and keep me
Forever in your arms.
All I can promise is the moment.
The rest I leave to destiny.
Bonfire
And as the dying embers fade
She wonders what he did today.
A spark flares up and with that light
A simple wish released to night.
Lofting to Orion’s belt,
Her course set right, all hands are dealt.
Within that tiny shot of fire
New hope for all her hearts desire.
Alone in darkness save for one
A distance spanned, new life begun.
She turns to see her path well lit,
But finds first step hard to commit.
She views the bars around her cage
And screams aloud to voice the rage.
Confinement…
not known before.
What was content
Is now locked door.
Then from the north she hears her name,
Cowers down to hide her shame.
He holds her face and with a kiss
Embodies strength, “Fulfill the wish”.
A hand shoots out from her cocoon
And in her soul a simple tune
The beat she knows, One, two and three,
That spark that flew, is now her key.
The wind still tosses her about
But deep within there is no doubt.
Her savior only lent a hand
To guide her to a path not planned.
So, spark and flame into the night
She dreams of him and of the sight
When embers died and fire flew
Her soul released and born anew.
She wonders what he did today.
A spark flares up and with that light
A simple wish released to night.
Lofting to Orion’s belt,
Her course set right, all hands are dealt.
Within that tiny shot of fire
New hope for all her hearts desire.
Alone in darkness save for one
A distance spanned, new life begun.
She turns to see her path well lit,
But finds first step hard to commit.
She views the bars around her cage
And screams aloud to voice the rage.
Confinement…
not known before.
What was content
Is now locked door.
Then from the north she hears her name,
Cowers down to hide her shame.
He holds her face and with a kiss
Embodies strength, “Fulfill the wish”.
A hand shoots out from her cocoon
And in her soul a simple tune
The beat she knows, One, two and three,
That spark that flew, is now her key.
The wind still tosses her about
But deep within there is no doubt.
Her savior only lent a hand
To guide her to a path not planned.
So, spark and flame into the night
She dreams of him and of the sight
When embers died and fire flew
Her soul released and born anew.
Falcon
A forceful wind did push her fate
But little did she know,
The sting that made her turn around
Would also bring her joy.
With brazen words he taunted her
And being as she is,
She smiled when her voice lashed back
And so they did begin.
“How dare he step into my world”.
But in her heart she knew.
This man that matched her word for word
Would be a treasured jewel.
One silent night he reached to her
A saddened soul cried out.
She listened as he told the tale
Truths whispered without doubt.
She felt a kinship with this man
Perhaps he felt it too.
To speak with heartfelt honesty
Opens eyes anew.
On wings of hawk and owl they soar.
This tale has just begun.
“Time be kind and spare my heart”
Should all become undone.
But little did she know,
The sting that made her turn around
Would also bring her joy.
With brazen words he taunted her
And being as she is,
She smiled when her voice lashed back
And so they did begin.
“How dare he step into my world”.
But in her heart she knew.
This man that matched her word for word
Would be a treasured jewel.
One silent night he reached to her
A saddened soul cried out.
She listened as he told the tale
Truths whispered without doubt.
She felt a kinship with this man
Perhaps he felt it too.
To speak with heartfelt honesty
Opens eyes anew.
On wings of hawk and owl they soar.
This tale has just begun.
“Time be kind and spare my heart”
Should all become undone.
Excerpt - Love is Blind
Once upon a time, Iesa believed she had found true love in a man know as Oran. She loved him more than she thought possible. When he was away, she sat on the steps of their small abode and counted her breaths till his form appeared over the hill. Her sight was keen. She ran to him, up the slope, crushing mint leaves beneath bare feet and leaving a trail of scent behind her.
“Ah my pretty lady, how has the world fared in my absence?”
She lowered he head but left her eyes on his, “Of this I would not know,” she answered. “I have watched the sun rise and full moon wax and wane, but only from the steps of home.”
He looked to her face and thought, “I am blessed with such devotion, and yet I fear her world is too small.”
“You would do well to wander the dell. To speak with the townsfolk and take in the sights,” he quietly confirmed.
She answered quickly, “I would not dare to miss your return my love. I am content to watch and wait.”
Oran ran his fingers through her sable locks. “Perhaps she is right. Were I to return, and not see her racing to the knoll, I would doubt her devotion.”
Their time was spent in a quiet manner. She tended his needs and he held her at night. Iesa would rise before the sun, grind fresh wheat to bake his bread, stoke the fire to life on the hearth, warming the room in which he woke. She followed the stream to the point where the water was clear and cold, filled with the sharp tang of earthen minerals. The walk was long and the buckets left her hands calloused, but to please him, surpassed all discomfort.
Oran could not but be content in his time at home. Iesa was radiant, green eyes and fair skin, slight of form yet rounded to please the eye. Did he love her? Even he knew not. If love was to feel comfort and no need to search further, then indeed, Iesa fulfilled this ideal.
The sun fell with a whisper over the hill. On the morrow Oran would again depart. His work took him to far away villages. At times spanning months. Iesa lay beside him single flame illuminating his handsome features. She believed her heart would break with every farewell. Her eyes wandered the shadows of his form. She breathed with him, inhaling and exhaling in unison. The candle wax slid silently to its base. Night music of cicadas and owls floated on the evening breeze. She slept very little since meeting Oran. Iesa would watch him dream. Lost in his face she let her eyelids drop and made a single wish.
She whispered to the creatures of the night, “Oh that I could never close my eyes to sleep would be a joy. To live with my eyes always open and taking in the beauty of my love would be all that I could hope for.”
She watched him sleep. She watched him turn in his dreams. She watched the morning light slowly bring his color to life. She watched him wake.
Together they climbed the hill. Oran held her close and leaned to place a single kiss upon her head. He let go the final embrace. With a smile and a ruffle of her hair, Oran turned and stepped into the wood. She watched him go. Iesa remained on the knoll till the chill of the air woke her from daydreams. A golden glow guided her to the warmth of home.
Unable to eat, she wrapped herself in a finely woven shawl of her own making and curled upon the bed she shared with Oran. No company she had this night. Her feet slid to the place where he would normally be. All she felt was the cool silken sheets. Isea pulled the pillows to her, embracing them. Already she missed her love. Weary with loneliness she closed her eyes to sleep.
“What is this?” she questioned. “I sleep but still see the shadows of the room.” She rose and leaned out the open window. Isea took a deep drink of the evening air and let her eyelids fall, however, they did not.
Days and nights passed. Iesa’s eyes never closed. She had taken to wrapping a black veil around her always-open eyes to dim the light and calm the sleepless nights. On the steps she lived. Waiting. Wondering. Time passed. The season changed from warmth of day to sudden darkened skies and hard rains. The mint she ran through lay dormant. Leaves turned to burnished gold’s beyond the knoll. So long he had been gone.
“What keeps him from me,” she wondered.
Iesa kept up with the house. She stocked the pantry with Oran’s favorite foods. She fell the trees in the southern woods and prepared for winter. With her tasks completed, she watched the knoll from the well-worn steps. As the sun surrendered to the pull of night, a figure, a shadow appeared on the hill. He heart forgot to beat, if only for an instant. She raced to the top of the knoll, the veil still wrapped and ends trailing behind her. The figure blurred with Iesa’s tears. Slowly she untied the veil. Before her was not her love but a humble caretaker from a neighboring farm. She looked at him questioningly.
“Are you Iesa? The mistress of a man know as Oran? He asked.
She nodded. It was uncommon for visitors to this vale.
He placed a hand on her shoulder and stated, “I bring ill tidings. Oran will not return to you. The dam on my lord’s estate broke as he was crossing the glade. He lives no more.”
Iesa stood on the knoll and watched the caretaker disappear into the depths of the shadowed wood. How long she stood there is unknown. The golden glow from the house dimmed and faded. The last light of dusk fell from the sky. She was without direction. There was no home without her love. No reason to turn towards that door. She placed one foot before the other and slowly made her way into the world.
Grass turns to sandy loam beneath her feet. Winter’s icy bite gives way to warm showers and scents of spring. She walks. The air becomes dry. Iesa finds the lack of moisture soothing. Her skin browns the veil remains to lessen the desert sun. She wanders. A simple pack holds all she needs for survival. Survive she does but what is life without hope. Isea makes camp for the night. Using bits of rosin wood the fire grows quickly. She prepares a small bowl of wild tubers and imagines Oran’s face in the shifting dunes. Awaken from her daydream, flocks of carrion scream past. The wind moans to the east. Swirls of sand rise in columns. Tiny grains stinging Iesa’s arms. She is new to this barren land. The secrets of the desert still unknown to her.
“Such a wind” she exclaims to herself. “It is as if the rain of home, with all its thundering power, has turned to stone.”
Her fire drowns in the rain of sand. Iesa’s exposed skin is red and raw from the pelting of millions of tiny rocks. She looks for cover but can find none. Clutching her cloak she attempts to hide from the storm. The cruel wind grasps her veil and peels it from her eyes. Unable to close them, she screams as the sand rips at her vision. Red tears slid silently down her cheeks.Iesa falls. She falls to the sand. She falls from her mind. Iesa sleeps.
The spicy scent of tobacco waves past Iesa. She moves hand. Soft furs cover her. A warm air she breathes. Birdsong unlike any she has heard before fills her mind. She struggles to rise but a firm hand presses her to the bedding.
“Ahh..in a hurry we are eh? A deep soothing voice says joyfully.
She begins to speak but no sounds emerge. Her throat dry and dusty, she coughs. Her hand is lifted and a cool stone mug placed within. Iesa’s trembles and is helped by strong yet soft hands. Guiding the mug to her lips. Sweetness coats her mouth. Soothing honey with hints of clover calm her thirst and sooth her swollen tongue.
“Many thanks,” she manages to whisper. Iesa lifts her head to see her savior but no light or face is there. Darkness is all she sees.
With hesitation, fearing her companion may think her mad, she asks, “Are my eyes open Sir? I see nothing to light this moment.”
He lowers his head and in a quiet tone replies, “Your eyes are indeed open. They have, in truth, never closed. You eyes remain open, even in sleep.”
Isea sipped again and asked, “How long have I been here kind soul?” She hesitated and added, “Time enough for sight to heal?”
She heard him sigh. The answer voiced without words.
“The moon has come full cycle since I found you. I fear the time for heals has passed.”
“Ah my pretty lady, how has the world fared in my absence?”
She lowered he head but left her eyes on his, “Of this I would not know,” she answered. “I have watched the sun rise and full moon wax and wane, but only from the steps of home.”
He looked to her face and thought, “I am blessed with such devotion, and yet I fear her world is too small.”
“You would do well to wander the dell. To speak with the townsfolk and take in the sights,” he quietly confirmed.
She answered quickly, “I would not dare to miss your return my love. I am content to watch and wait.”
Oran ran his fingers through her sable locks. “Perhaps she is right. Were I to return, and not see her racing to the knoll, I would doubt her devotion.”
Their time was spent in a quiet manner. She tended his needs and he held her at night. Iesa would rise before the sun, grind fresh wheat to bake his bread, stoke the fire to life on the hearth, warming the room in which he woke. She followed the stream to the point where the water was clear and cold, filled with the sharp tang of earthen minerals. The walk was long and the buckets left her hands calloused, but to please him, surpassed all discomfort.
Oran could not but be content in his time at home. Iesa was radiant, green eyes and fair skin, slight of form yet rounded to please the eye. Did he love her? Even he knew not. If love was to feel comfort and no need to search further, then indeed, Iesa fulfilled this ideal.
The sun fell with a whisper over the hill. On the morrow Oran would again depart. His work took him to far away villages. At times spanning months. Iesa lay beside him single flame illuminating his handsome features. She believed her heart would break with every farewell. Her eyes wandered the shadows of his form. She breathed with him, inhaling and exhaling in unison. The candle wax slid silently to its base. Night music of cicadas and owls floated on the evening breeze. She slept very little since meeting Oran. Iesa would watch him dream. Lost in his face she let her eyelids drop and made a single wish.
She whispered to the creatures of the night, “Oh that I could never close my eyes to sleep would be a joy. To live with my eyes always open and taking in the beauty of my love would be all that I could hope for.”
She watched him sleep. She watched him turn in his dreams. She watched the morning light slowly bring his color to life. She watched him wake.
Together they climbed the hill. Oran held her close and leaned to place a single kiss upon her head. He let go the final embrace. With a smile and a ruffle of her hair, Oran turned and stepped into the wood. She watched him go. Iesa remained on the knoll till the chill of the air woke her from daydreams. A golden glow guided her to the warmth of home.
Unable to eat, she wrapped herself in a finely woven shawl of her own making and curled upon the bed she shared with Oran. No company she had this night. Her feet slid to the place where he would normally be. All she felt was the cool silken sheets. Isea pulled the pillows to her, embracing them. Already she missed her love. Weary with loneliness she closed her eyes to sleep.
“What is this?” she questioned. “I sleep but still see the shadows of the room.” She rose and leaned out the open window. Isea took a deep drink of the evening air and let her eyelids fall, however, they did not.
Days and nights passed. Iesa’s eyes never closed. She had taken to wrapping a black veil around her always-open eyes to dim the light and calm the sleepless nights. On the steps she lived. Waiting. Wondering. Time passed. The season changed from warmth of day to sudden darkened skies and hard rains. The mint she ran through lay dormant. Leaves turned to burnished gold’s beyond the knoll. So long he had been gone.
“What keeps him from me,” she wondered.
Iesa kept up with the house. She stocked the pantry with Oran’s favorite foods. She fell the trees in the southern woods and prepared for winter. With her tasks completed, she watched the knoll from the well-worn steps. As the sun surrendered to the pull of night, a figure, a shadow appeared on the hill. He heart forgot to beat, if only for an instant. She raced to the top of the knoll, the veil still wrapped and ends trailing behind her. The figure blurred with Iesa’s tears. Slowly she untied the veil. Before her was not her love but a humble caretaker from a neighboring farm. She looked at him questioningly.
“Are you Iesa? The mistress of a man know as Oran? He asked.
She nodded. It was uncommon for visitors to this vale.
He placed a hand on her shoulder and stated, “I bring ill tidings. Oran will not return to you. The dam on my lord’s estate broke as he was crossing the glade. He lives no more.”
Iesa stood on the knoll and watched the caretaker disappear into the depths of the shadowed wood. How long she stood there is unknown. The golden glow from the house dimmed and faded. The last light of dusk fell from the sky. She was without direction. There was no home without her love. No reason to turn towards that door. She placed one foot before the other and slowly made her way into the world.
Grass turns to sandy loam beneath her feet. Winter’s icy bite gives way to warm showers and scents of spring. She walks. The air becomes dry. Iesa finds the lack of moisture soothing. Her skin browns the veil remains to lessen the desert sun. She wanders. A simple pack holds all she needs for survival. Survive she does but what is life without hope. Isea makes camp for the night. Using bits of rosin wood the fire grows quickly. She prepares a small bowl of wild tubers and imagines Oran’s face in the shifting dunes. Awaken from her daydream, flocks of carrion scream past. The wind moans to the east. Swirls of sand rise in columns. Tiny grains stinging Iesa’s arms. She is new to this barren land. The secrets of the desert still unknown to her.
“Such a wind” she exclaims to herself. “It is as if the rain of home, with all its thundering power, has turned to stone.”
Her fire drowns in the rain of sand. Iesa’s exposed skin is red and raw from the pelting of millions of tiny rocks. She looks for cover but can find none. Clutching her cloak she attempts to hide from the storm. The cruel wind grasps her veil and peels it from her eyes. Unable to close them, she screams as the sand rips at her vision. Red tears slid silently down her cheeks.Iesa falls. She falls to the sand. She falls from her mind. Iesa sleeps.
The spicy scent of tobacco waves past Iesa. She moves hand. Soft furs cover her. A warm air she breathes. Birdsong unlike any she has heard before fills her mind. She struggles to rise but a firm hand presses her to the bedding.
“Ahh..in a hurry we are eh? A deep soothing voice says joyfully.
She begins to speak but no sounds emerge. Her throat dry and dusty, she coughs. Her hand is lifted and a cool stone mug placed within. Iesa’s trembles and is helped by strong yet soft hands. Guiding the mug to her lips. Sweetness coats her mouth. Soothing honey with hints of clover calm her thirst and sooth her swollen tongue.
“Many thanks,” she manages to whisper. Iesa lifts her head to see her savior but no light or face is there. Darkness is all she sees.
With hesitation, fearing her companion may think her mad, she asks, “Are my eyes open Sir? I see nothing to light this moment.”
He lowers his head and in a quiet tone replies, “Your eyes are indeed open. They have, in truth, never closed. You eyes remain open, even in sleep.”
Isea sipped again and asked, “How long have I been here kind soul?” She hesitated and added, “Time enough for sight to heal?”
She heard him sigh. The answer voiced without words.
“The moon has come full cycle since I found you. I fear the time for heals has passed.”
Guided
Nestled in slumber,
None can see my kindred guide.
Only I may view those tempting
Mottled wings of lustrous taupe.
He wakes me with purpose from
Depths of silent dreams.
I follow.
Slipping thoughts of falling, failing, peel away in mild currents.
Winging higher. Sinking deeper into self.
Lessons, not in words
But taught to soul and very being.
Upon those wizened wings I learn to fly.
Knowledge, not always pleasant,
Opens eyes to see beyond escapes.
Ferns and field
Give way to hues of blue and crimson.
Fronds and blades emerge as
Textured peaks I reach to touch.
Sighted, yet sightless.
We sail beyond the realms of humankind.
Light begins to grow from center soul,
Illuminating thought and tempting me with
Answers so close…
Another dawn brings to an end our
Timeless travel.
I step from sleep aware.
Pieces of Self
Judged by others, often harsh
The words they speak.
Unspoken thoughts that reveal more than mere conversation
She tries to please but in that effort
Too many pieces of self surrendered.
Why not leave these folk behind?
Because all friends are hard to find.
She seeks the lining of that cloud
The One that holds a silver shroud.
She sees him clearly, standing there.
It is with him she longs to share.
“Make the others disappear”
Save her from a world of fear.
She understands this can’t be so.
It’s up to her the truth to sow.
With head bowed down
She tells of wrongs
The shame is there
Her story long.
It comes to this…
Afraid of risk.
She fears that in the tales she spins
The One she loves will not forgive.
So once again she clears the path
Begins anew and hopes that this time…
Tell no lies for they do haunt. Take the hand he offers
And with him run.
The words they speak.
Unspoken thoughts that reveal more than mere conversation
She tries to please but in that effort
Too many pieces of self surrendered.
Why not leave these folk behind?
Because all friends are hard to find.
She seeks the lining of that cloud
The One that holds a silver shroud.
She sees him clearly, standing there.
It is with him she longs to share.
“Make the others disappear”
Save her from a world of fear.
She understands this can’t be so.
It’s up to her the truth to sow.
With head bowed down
She tells of wrongs
The shame is there
Her story long.
It comes to this…
Afraid of risk.
She fears that in the tales she spins
The One she loves will not forgive.
So once again she clears the path
Begins anew and hopes that this time…
Tell no lies for they do haunt. Take the hand he offers
And with him run.
To Walk
What does she run to?
Even she knows not.
She tempts a bridge not crossed,
Unseen,
Lost in mists of light and rain.
Sure footing eludes her step.
This place she goes…,
A path of uncertainty.
Uncommon valor she happens across.
Time slows. Her caution lost.
This kind soul teaches her how
To build the foundation that holds her now.
What does she run from?
She begins to see.
The past is just a part.
Turn…
Find the heart that learned to sing.
Place one foot before the other.
Dance the blade…
Avoid the steels sharp edge.
She learns to trust herself and reaches.
Within. Her soul she teaches.
On the edge of knowing right from wrong.
Guided by a heartfelt song.
She walks.
Even she knows not.
She tempts a bridge not crossed,
Unseen,
Lost in mists of light and rain.
Sure footing eludes her step.
This place she goes…,
A path of uncertainty.
Uncommon valor she happens across.
Time slows. Her caution lost.
This kind soul teaches her how
To build the foundation that holds her now.
What does she run from?
She begins to see.
The past is just a part.
Turn…
Find the heart that learned to sing.
Place one foot before the other.
Dance the blade…
Avoid the steels sharp edge.
She learns to trust herself and reaches.
Within. Her soul she teaches.
On the edge of knowing right from wrong.
Guided by a heartfelt song.
She walks.
Alone
On a desert dune the sands moves slow.
Suns rise and set, and now she knows
Too much she asked from one she loves,
Too hard a task to rise above.
The silence carries her away
Remembering all the words to say.
But nothing really comes to mind
The quiet evening, all she’ll find.
She sees his face, is swept away.
She cares too much to hurt this way.
So gently she removes the weight,
Surrenders him unto his fate.
For like the tiny grains of sand
Her destination never planned.
She dreams again that come one day
He wakes to carry her away.
Suns rise and set, and now she knows
Too much she asked from one she loves,
Too hard a task to rise above.
The silence carries her away
Remembering all the words to say.
But nothing really comes to mind
The quiet evening, all she’ll find.
She sees his face, is swept away.
She cares too much to hurt this way.
So gently she removes the weight,
Surrenders him unto his fate.
For like the tiny grains of sand
Her destination never planned.
She dreams again that come one day
He wakes to carry her away.
Broken
We ran in the wild and stole a quick glance.
Found wonder together, began the last dance.
We spoke of the beauty the world did pass by.
Created a fortress on mountain top high.
Vision extended beyond all our dreams
But soon the earth dwellers decided to scheme.
They reached towards that billowy perch where we stood
And without our awareness began felling of wood.
We tried to hold fast but demons are strong
They never slow down, their patience is long.
How could we survive such a venomous onslaught?
The poison infecting the beauty that was wrought.
Slowly the glory of all that we knew
Turned rancid and ugly a sight not to view.
So now we do float like bits of a letter,
Torn in pieces and scattered on heather.
Tossed about in winds that are fast.
The pieces are drifting too far from our grasp.
In tears the truth comes raining down
Too much beauty is just not allowed.
Perhaps all that remains are shards of a palace
Stored safe and in hiding away from the malice.
Nothing holds power to steal memories away.
They bloom forever beyond dying day.
And so with a simple nod to the keepers
We cease the journey of two passionate seekers.
Fear not for this lover looks to the stars
Orion still rises with hope from afar.
Found wonder together, began the last dance.
We spoke of the beauty the world did pass by.
Created a fortress on mountain top high.
Vision extended beyond all our dreams
But soon the earth dwellers decided to scheme.
They reached towards that billowy perch where we stood
And without our awareness began felling of wood.
We tried to hold fast but demons are strong
They never slow down, their patience is long.
How could we survive such a venomous onslaught?
The poison infecting the beauty that was wrought.
Slowly the glory of all that we knew
Turned rancid and ugly a sight not to view.
So now we do float like bits of a letter,
Torn in pieces and scattered on heather.
Tossed about in winds that are fast.
The pieces are drifting too far from our grasp.
In tears the truth comes raining down
Too much beauty is just not allowed.
Perhaps all that remains are shards of a palace
Stored safe and in hiding away from the malice.
Nothing holds power to steal memories away.
They bloom forever beyond dying day.
And so with a simple nod to the keepers
We cease the journey of two passionate seekers.
Fear not for this lover looks to the stars
Orion still rises with hope from afar.
Turn
He turned her head with words that peered
Beyond the painted mask.
What man is this to dare a glimpse
Of all I am that's past?
Twas not a harsh or glaring probe
More of a subtle breeze.
He simply pushed aside the gauze
To see what lay beneath.
She looked again into those eyes
And felt a smile form.
A healing touch and honest heart
A shelter from her storm.
Who is to say what draws two close?
A deed, a smile, a force?
Let laughter sing and tales unfold.
Together, bright and bold.
His stories of a bygone day.
Of battles he had fought.
Took faith to tell and only drew
Her closer then he thought.
Past lives slowly slip away.
New moments bring anew
Joy and smiles, tears and fears.
Skies of many hues.
She sleeps to dream and wakes to walk
A path unknown to her.
A step toward new, a skip from old
Worn wounds begin to cure.
Who is to say what each dawn brings?
A rose, a sigh, a thorn?
Let all unfold and hear the tune
As songs are born by light of moon.
Beyond the painted mask.
What man is this to dare a glimpse
Of all I am that's past?
Twas not a harsh or glaring probe
More of a subtle breeze.
He simply pushed aside the gauze
To see what lay beneath.
She looked again into those eyes
And felt a smile form.
A healing touch and honest heart
A shelter from her storm.
Who is to say what draws two close?
A deed, a smile, a force?
Let laughter sing and tales unfold.
Together, bright and bold.
His stories of a bygone day.
Of battles he had fought.
Took faith to tell and only drew
Her closer then he thought.
Past lives slowly slip away.
New moments bring anew
Joy and smiles, tears and fears.
Skies of many hues.
She sleeps to dream and wakes to walk
A path unknown to her.
A step toward new, a skip from old
Worn wounds begin to cure.
Who is to say what each dawn brings?
A rose, a sigh, a thorn?
Let all unfold and hear the tune
As songs are born by light of moon.
Guarded
At first blush she placed a brick
To guard her heart from risk.
And when he reached to smooth her hair,
The wall she crafted thick.
He walked around and with a smile
Asked, “What is this you do?”
She glanced his way, her heart beat wild
“It’s really not meant for you.”
With each tender breathless sigh
That wall became a keep.
Deceive thyself is still a lie.
Her heart began to weep.
Alone beyond the sun and moon
She heard a muffled rap.
“I see you there beyond this wall.”
He tapped a tiny crack.
“Build your fortress, it matters not
I see with vision true.”
With those words he turned away.
His voice her only clue.
To guard her heart from risk.
And when he reached to smooth her hair,
The wall she crafted thick.
He walked around and with a smile
Asked, “What is this you do?”
She glanced his way, her heart beat wild
“It’s really not meant for you.”
With each tender breathless sigh
That wall became a keep.
Deceive thyself is still a lie.
Her heart began to weep.
Alone beyond the sun and moon
She heard a muffled rap.
“I see you there beyond this wall.”
He tapped a tiny crack.
“Build your fortress, it matters not
I see with vision true.”
With those words he turned away.
His voice her only clue.
The Tale
“Come sit and I’ll speak of a tale.”
One of magic and faces pale.
A time when two discovered one.
A world with passion where love did run.
“A story” cried the red haired child!
He bobbed and danced around the wild
Roses that the Lady grew,
In dunes of sand, of amber hue.
“Story?” The Lady thought,
It seems this child needs to be taught
The difference in a tale with truth
And stories with a fairy tooth.
“I speak of lovers in a world
Where crimes of want are often hurled
Against the covered ears of those
That never saw the field to sow.”
The child looked beyond confused.
Alas, the Lady was bemused
To think a child could understand
That more to truth her tale did have.
The Lady then did close her eyes
And with a simple breath of sighs
Remembered when the tale was new
And all the happiness that ensued.
She sailed away, her love in hand.
They met each day upon the land
That brought the two of them together
Her memories to stay forever.
The tiny hand touched her tear
The child’s voice soft and clear,
“Perhaps this tale that you describe,
Is better told another time.”
The Lady looked into those eyes,
Filled with wonder and surprise
She slowly nodded, “yes my dear,
It’s story time. Erase your fear.”
And so together they did talk
Of dragon feathers and magic bought.
Of wonders that are hard to find,
Imagination filling mind.
One of magic and faces pale.
A time when two discovered one.
A world with passion where love did run.
“A story” cried the red haired child!
He bobbed and danced around the wild
Roses that the Lady grew,
In dunes of sand, of amber hue.
“Story?” The Lady thought,
It seems this child needs to be taught
The difference in a tale with truth
And stories with a fairy tooth.
“I speak of lovers in a world
Where crimes of want are often hurled
Against the covered ears of those
That never saw the field to sow.”
The child looked beyond confused.
Alas, the Lady was bemused
To think a child could understand
That more to truth her tale did have.
The Lady then did close her eyes
And with a simple breath of sighs
Remembered when the tale was new
And all the happiness that ensued.
She sailed away, her love in hand.
They met each day upon the land
That brought the two of them together
Her memories to stay forever.
The tiny hand touched her tear
The child’s voice soft and clear,
“Perhaps this tale that you describe,
Is better told another time.”
The Lady looked into those eyes,
Filled with wonder and surprise
She slowly nodded, “yes my dear,
It’s story time. Erase your fear.”
And so together they did talk
Of dragon feathers and magic bought.
Of wonders that are hard to find,
Imagination filling mind.
Path of Starsider – The Beginnings
The following is a back-story written for role-play. It is more of a cliff note than an actual artistic endeavor
Path is the daughter of two prominent artists who travel the known worlds (and beyond) documenting visual art. Path assisted her parents in her early career days. When her parents made the decision to explore unknown space in search of new cultures, (with full knowledge they may never return) Path chose to remain behind and seek her own destiny.
Path quickly dissolved all funds in her travels. She found herself alone, destitute and without any means of surviving the harsh environment of Tatooine. It was in Bestine the Empire offered assistance. Path, having very little exposure to political affairs, agreed to a position healing and entertaining the Empire’s wounded. Perhaps it was her lack of understanding of the Civil War, or simply a trait, but Path quickly rose in stature as a peace negotiator between the many disgruntled factions. Neither Rebel nor Imperial viewed Path as an enemy. With friends on both sides, Path could and did, speak on behalf of Brothers, Sisters, Fathers, Mothers and friends. Even under a flag of the Empire, Path often healed and harbored those, which openly were Rebel aligned. The Emperor knew of this and not only allowed said treason but encouraged it.
“If you know the enemy and know yourself, you need not fear the result of a hundred battles. If you know yourself but not your enemy, for every victory gained you will also suffer a defeat. If you know neither the enemy nor yourself, you will succumb in every battle.”
Sun Tzu – The Art of War
Bystanders often watched in confusion as comrades divulged propriety information to Path. Was it trust … or something of a different nature?
The stirrings of enlightenment began at birth. Path found she could manipulate people, but only if it was within their nature to accept Path’s direction. Other’s thoughts were as easily heard as a barking merchant droid. She learned to turn off the extraneous voices while a part of her monitored for alerts. It was not until her early thirties she discovered a term for these talents. The Force.
Knowing of the Emperors use of Dark Jedi, Path hid her connection to the Force. She did not wish to be trained in the Dark Arts nor employed in a manner that required them. She found the Light aligned Jedi lofty, arrogant and dreamers of a world unachievable. Path chose to remain on the ever-wavering line of neutrality in Force related issues.
Many years were spent in the employ of the Empire. Path began to settle. Happiness was found while in the company of her fiancé. They made plans for the future while neglecting the present. All came to an end when the present claimed her love on the harsh sands of Tatooine.
Path fell into a state of nothingness. She was taken to a medical facility where the Doctors puzzled over her coma like condition. They failed to realize her state was self-imposed.
Note - some of these events are chronicled in “Path of Starsider.”
Still prone to blackouts, Path has resumed duties for the Empire. Her talents for healing are forgotten. Even methods of healing herself have proved limited in success. Currently she lives on Lok gathering, compiling, and befriending a clan of Dark Jedi. Her peaceful ways and hidden Force talents are all that remain of her earlier days. Gone are the hopes for a simple life, children, and a lifetime companion.
She tends her duties while the ever watchful eye of the Emperor watches her.
Path is the daughter of two prominent artists who travel the known worlds (and beyond) documenting visual art. Path assisted her parents in her early career days. When her parents made the decision to explore unknown space in search of new cultures, (with full knowledge they may never return) Path chose to remain behind and seek her own destiny.
Path quickly dissolved all funds in her travels. She found herself alone, destitute and without any means of surviving the harsh environment of Tatooine. It was in Bestine the Empire offered assistance. Path, having very little exposure to political affairs, agreed to a position healing and entertaining the Empire’s wounded. Perhaps it was her lack of understanding of the Civil War, or simply a trait, but Path quickly rose in stature as a peace negotiator between the many disgruntled factions. Neither Rebel nor Imperial viewed Path as an enemy. With friends on both sides, Path could and did, speak on behalf of Brothers, Sisters, Fathers, Mothers and friends. Even under a flag of the Empire, Path often healed and harbored those, which openly were Rebel aligned. The Emperor knew of this and not only allowed said treason but encouraged it.
“If you know the enemy and know yourself, you need not fear the result of a hundred battles. If you know yourself but not your enemy, for every victory gained you will also suffer a defeat. If you know neither the enemy nor yourself, you will succumb in every battle.”
Sun Tzu – The Art of War
Bystanders often watched in confusion as comrades divulged propriety information to Path. Was it trust … or something of a different nature?
The stirrings of enlightenment began at birth. Path found she could manipulate people, but only if it was within their nature to accept Path’s direction. Other’s thoughts were as easily heard as a barking merchant droid. She learned to turn off the extraneous voices while a part of her monitored for alerts. It was not until her early thirties she discovered a term for these talents. The Force.
Knowing of the Emperors use of Dark Jedi, Path hid her connection to the Force. She did not wish to be trained in the Dark Arts nor employed in a manner that required them. She found the Light aligned Jedi lofty, arrogant and dreamers of a world unachievable. Path chose to remain on the ever-wavering line of neutrality in Force related issues.
Many years were spent in the employ of the Empire. Path began to settle. Happiness was found while in the company of her fiancé. They made plans for the future while neglecting the present. All came to an end when the present claimed her love on the harsh sands of Tatooine.
Path fell into a state of nothingness. She was taken to a medical facility where the Doctors puzzled over her coma like condition. They failed to realize her state was self-imposed.
Note - some of these events are chronicled in “Path of Starsider.”
Still prone to blackouts, Path has resumed duties for the Empire. Her talents for healing are forgotten. Even methods of healing herself have proved limited in success. Currently she lives on Lok gathering, compiling, and befriending a clan of Dark Jedi. Her peaceful ways and hidden Force talents are all that remain of her earlier days. Gone are the hopes for a simple life, children, and a lifetime companion.
She tends her duties while the ever watchful eye of the Emperor watches her.
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