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Wednesday, August 8, 2012

Put the quill to the test

Wandering thru the dark taverns, I felt a tug at my consciousness. Looking up and around , I saw the glint of eyes piercing the darkness and trying to penetrate my mood. “Buy you a drink?” I asked. “Sure.” He replied.
Then I noticed his lady. She was moving to the music, slowly his eyes returned to her. Sipping his ale, he said, “Isn’t she lovely? Over the last cycle of the moon, I have fallen in love with this beautiful woman. Love is an amazing thing…”
As the music temporarily faded, she wandered over and brushed my hand to recognize the kinsmanship between her lover and I. She whispered a greeting and then returning to her music induced trance, she flowed away. He and I drank and spoke of love and the ethereal creature known as woman. The music carried his lady and our conversation into the evening.
The scene eventually faded and I wandered out into the night. Many passersby offered acknowledgement. I smile and continued on. I had a mission. Where am I? Where is it? There! My field of concentration. Solace! Time to reflect.
I sat, looked to the Heavens, and pondered “love.” I have been teased by it, touched by it, intoxicated by it, and wounded by it. Now I tend to avoid its closeness. But hasn't everyone been bruised by the most wonderful but also injurious feeling known?  Must clear the mind.
I sat til near dawn and watched a thin veil of clouds drift over the moon as David Gilmour’s finger created magic on 6 strings. I danced with the spectre of my beautiful Lebanese dance partner. We swayed until near dawn. The trees around us offering sanctuary, I felt them move close and embrace our being. I attained a moment of peace.
I opened my eyes and found myself alone in the park glade. Mmmmm. Amazing!
I remembered love and the utmost feeling of peace it can offer when true. But every coin has a flip side. The dark side of deceit came creeping in. I shook it off and stood to wander home.
Rambling on, I stumbled over pieces of broken dreams scattered in my path. As I was falling, I noticed movement. I looked up and saw two beautiful fairie folk. Gazing upon them, all the sadness was gone.They spoke of the Forgotten Ones.The language without words. The look. I felt the chaos within turn to order. The bitter cold turned to warmth. I am alive. There is still hope. There is still magic. The voices of the Ancient Ones whisper in my ears, “Stand up and live! Don’t just exist…but live!”
So, once again...I pull my quill from retirement and wet it with ink and inspiration. Let us journey into yesterday, today, and tomorrow. Let us live! 

DBC~Duke of the Arctic Wednesday, August 8, 2012 at 6:22pm ·

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