Author's Note:
In this world I strive to communicate to you, I feel subdued and chained down within. What I have put to the books is but a portion, a tithe, of what my archives hold. In the future, I hope you all enjoy . . . to be continued . . . this comes to mind as I ponder what this all means . . . it=s abstract, yet has meaning to me.
There is a chain about each of us . . . the chain can be weakened . . . and so . . .
Ideas are clustered and volumes of chaos are born
The pen is laid to script . . . a page, a chapter, one fragile volume to cultivate and nurture
The work goes on apparently forever in a sea of revolving thoughts so deep and immeasurable
Yearn and struggle . . . contest oppression
On and on . . . persistent cultivation
Hammer is put to anvil . . . the blade is forged
Will power is atrophy to hindrance
Atrophy . . . atrophy . . . the links begin to crack and molder
Reward is given to the persistent
The jaws of the Wraith are open wide to those who dare traverse Creation
Take the blade, sharp and keen as the jaws that threaten
The Wraith, it devours . . . press onward, onward! It is too late to stop now; all would be in vain
The point of no return has been cultivated . . . regrets beset every hero who dares pass that point
There is a price to be paid
A battle is fought -- victory -- the unconquerable Wraith is slain . . . wonderment . . . inspiration
Press further into the goal; another chapter obscurely fades, buried by other chapters bitter sweet
Again, a price to be collected for the sacrifice . . . bewilderment and shock
Hold the head of the Wraith . . . instead of the hands of those sheltered from it
This is the path of pain-filled pleasure . . . those who are shielded care not . . . they do not see
The end will justify the means of the path
Comfort is found in this path so forlorn, so forgotten . . . weeping of unsung heroes deafens me
So be swift as the speed of the cat and sharp as the dragon=s bite!
Time never forgets . . . it touches the chain as well as the prisoner bound within its links
Who will endure to the end?
The price of sacrifice is no ally, yet is a constant companion, relentlessly true to the hero
The path inflicts the deepest wound . . . the Wraith=s bite is secondary
This world can be wielded as the blade so sharp . . . but no one sees it
A tool to bring healing into the very Abyss itself
Slowly the Wraith=s head is discarded, esteemed as chafe by a hero once amazed over the victory
The memory, bitter-sweet
The chains, they crumble and fall to the ground . . . only to reveal more
But of less weight are they . . . stronger the hero has become
Onward! Hasten! Time, short as it is, heeds neither hero nor villain . . . the dream must live!
Another hero forged in pain . . .
The foolishness of comfort idleness
Once donned armor, now hangs rusted, tattered.
Then strikes the dart when shield is taken for granted and discarded
Loss of blood
Loss of trust
Judgement, self judgement is the most severe
An enemy least expected . . . foolish pride
The door is closed, its iron solidity sure
The symbol of the hero is demanded . . . reclaimed
The pit of blackened ash is the shattered hope of dreams
A night of terror and pain has begun
The wraith=s head discarded regenerates whole once again
With fury and maliciousness it strikes, scathing the heart with blackened talons
The once victorious falls to a defeated foe
Deep within there is steel more rigid than time
Without the ever-effects of time there is one
Unchanging and refined
Another hero who has bested the fire
Knowledge
Austerity
Trust and hope and steel combine well
Bleeding, weak, mortally exhausted
The hero reclaims his sword and faint draws forth a tarnished blade
Upon knees the hero fights, deflecting further blows of the deadly risen wraith
Then upon one knee
Hero recites his knowledge aloud . . . at first a mere whisper -- then rising to a deafening, ceaseless, song of hope as he bleeds
The wraith begins to waver
Wounds begin to heal
Scars are the reminder of neglect
The wraith is pierced and slain again
The symbol lost is returned
Armor is mended
Tarnish removed
Reborn hero rises again
Promises remembered
The night is dissolved
Daylight breaks and warms an icy heart
In all this the scars are yet deep and yet render mortal pain
Mortal pain; reminder of unkept guard
Another book is written; accumulation of expressions that once flowed so freely
Now a chapter is born in great pain
The gift has ebbed to a spark, once a burning flame
The warmth of the sun is only appreciated by the cold of night experienced
And onward the hero marches, pain in his stride
Ever onward in lonely consolation
Michael G. Giles
