It Is Time

‘It is time to write your story,’ they say to me.
‘So many need to hear it for themselves.
They need to hear about all that has happened
To you, from the time you were an infant to the time
Of now, when you have so much desire to come Home.
Will you not share your story with others?’
‘I have shared it,’ I tell them.
‘With every poem I write, with every tale I tell,
With every song I sing, I have shared my story.’
‘Keep sharing it,’ they urge me.
‘I can’t. I have tried sharing it for far too long.
It is time for my story to have an ending,
And then it will be time, at last, for others
To pick up the threads.’

My Tongue is Bound

My tongue is bound, I cannot speak.
My power is all but gone.
My pen is broken, the ink all fled.
My talent is moving on.
My voice is cracked, my song has left.
I never again shall sing.
I long only for a lonely
Bell for me to ring.
There’s nothing left that I can do,
I feel it more each day.
I cannot find the strength
To even walk into the fray.
I do not know what my Lord
Shall say to me someday
When all I want for now is
To run and hide away.
And yet I hope, even as I
Cower in nameless dread
That He will someday place
A pierced hand on my plain head
And say, ‘It wasn’t easy
But you’ve made it Home forever.
Just take my hand,
We will all now be together.’

Help Me

‘Help me, good friends,’ I say to them.
‘Help me to stay near the light.
I have nearly given all I have;
I can hardly even fight.
I no longer want to give it my all;
I no longer want to try.
Help me to somehow stay on the path.
Help me, please,’ I cry.
‘I have felt that my time is now,
And yet I am still here.
Help me to walk these last few steps;
Help me to conquer my fear.
Help me to make it back to my home,
Where I so wish to be.
Help me to shake these shackles away;
Help me to become free.
Help me, O help me to give it my all
Even though now it’s true
All I want is to hear the call,
‘It’s over now, you’re through!’
I need your help as never before.
I need you to carry me on.
I need your light and your life as my own.
I need you to help make me strong.
Help me to walk when my strength is no more.
Help me to fight through the pain.
Help me to keep my face to the fore.
That I may realize the gain.
Help me to try when I am done trying.
Help me to run while I’m weak.
Help me to live when the grave’s solace
Is truly all that I seek.
Help me to finish my wandering course.
Help me be finished now.
Help me, that those who hear my full tale
Will someday say ‘Wow.’
Help me to be a hero again,
A force for good on the earth.
Help me to see through my Savior’s eyes
The lesson of how much I’m worth.’

Embraced

At the end of my rope, I’ve naught more to give.
One foot in front of the other.
If I keep moving, I continue to live,
Here among my sisters, my brothers.
All round me they stand, but I feel them no more.
My spirit is trying to leave.
I have given all I have to give.
It is difficult to believe.
The moment arrives,
I will leave! I’ll be gone!
No longer to frequent this place.
Then an angel rushes to my side
And folds me within her embrace.
Ah! I am gasping! Her love is so strong,
It washes over my soul.
Balm to my hurts, my gaping wounds,
In an effort to make them all whole.
Still on my cliff’s edge, for I cannot leave,
I view the abyss below.
‘I feel my time at last has come.
Please!’ I say, ‘Let me go…’
‘Thousands of prayers have reached to heaven
To keep you strong and steady.
Now your time has nearly come,
But you are just not ready!’
‘Then woe is me! I cannot find
A reason to want to stay.
I have fought the fight for all my life.
I am immersed, even now, in the fray.
But my strength is gone, my heart is dark
And I have not the will to fight.’
‘Then I shall hold on to you,’ she says
‘Until you are filled again with light!’

The Dreamer Part Thirteen

The battle raged on. Adialon’s strength grew with every foe slaughtered. His every muscle gave its all, his sinews waxed and waned in perfect balance with his breath, and still his enemies rushed upon him, attacking with ever increasing ferocity. The Warrior was much too engulfed by the battle rage within him to realize that thousands opposed him; there was no end to the hordes pouring into the valley. By that same battle rage that consumed him, Adialon had no memory of what had transpired before the great conflict had begun; nor indeed could he recall its beginning- he was fighting a war that was eternal.
Adialon rejoiced in his heart at the marvelous untamed energy that flowed through him. His enemies feared him so greatly; they fled at every battle cry that burst from his lips. And with a word he summoned them back, and they would turn and rush upon him again, as though they could not disobey the command.
He received endless wounds. By the blades that rose against him, by the weapons that writhed about him at every side, by the hate fueling his enemies’ thrusts, Adialon was pierced at every turn. And at every turn, he would turn again, and unleash a still greater outpouring of their blood. The Warrior inhaled the scent of that blood, and thus his rage grew ever stronger.
‘This is impossible! He cannot still fight us; he is covered in his own blood!’
‘Then we must use greater weapons against him. He cannot prevail against us, for there is no warrior that can withstand the beast that we have bred for decades past. Summon the witch and her pet!’
‘Yes, sir!’ the soldier said sharply. He saluted the commander, then turned and mounted his charger.
‘Giddyap!’ he screamed harshly, kicking the charger with his sharp silver spurs. The animal reared in pain, its hooves beating the icy air. Cruelly the soldier kicked the animal again, laughing at his absolute control over the dumb beast. At the soldier’s third blow, the animal galloped forward, nostrils flared and sides heaving, flying ever faster as his master continued to cut into him.
The soldier laughed again.

The Dreamer Part Twelve

Adialon crested the hill first. As he took in the battle taking place below, his anger began to swell.
‘Wait,’ the Boy said sharply.
Adialon looked over at him.
‘Why do you halt on the verge of destruction, Boy?’ he said angrily. ‘I fight now! They shall not prevail against me; I shall sweep them aside as though they were autumn leaves before the north wind!’
‘This war is ours to fight, Adialon,’ said the Boy bluntly. ‘We are born to fight together. Take your sword, warrior!’
Adialon gasped in astonishment.
There in the Boy’s hand was his magnificent weapon, blazing brilliant gold as it had before, in the instant he had lost it so long ago.
Adialon reached out to take it. Silently, the Boy placed it in his waiting hand.
And thus it begins anew!
Adialon tore down the hillside, the sharp rocks and treacherous frozen ice powerless to slow him or make him fall. Within his breast, the war cry was kindled once again, and began to build as he rushed toward his enemies.
The Boy’s pure green eyes followed him, knowing all that burned in Adialon’s heart, knowing the power that emanated from Adialon’s keen, battle-trained mind; knowing that nothing would or could stop him now.
Adialon would fight a new battle, armed with his ancient, powerful weapon, against an enemy that had defeated him time and time again. But the heart that had fought and lost those battles of old was now new. It was more powerful than it had ever been before, and it would never surrender.
And so it would never fail.
The Boy’s pure green eyes gazed upon the war below. He knew the part he was to play in this dance of death and glory. He had spoken the truth, he and Adialon were born to fight together. But whereas Adialon would be numb to the pain of his many wounds, he, the Boy, would be given wounds innumerable. And he would feel every one.

The Dreamer Pt. Eleven

‘We come to the question I asked your friend, the one who was adamant in her claim that she was no angel,’ said Adialon. ‘Why do you tether yourself here on earth, when you so readily could depart for heaven? What holds you back?’
‘The same thing that holds you back- the fact that people need me here, and need us here,’ said the Boy.
‘But why? Is not God watching over all of us? Can He not watch over those we leave behind?’
‘Yes. But that’s not the only thing to think about. There are things that we might need to do still, part of our reason for coming here in the first place. Things that only we can do.’
‘And if we have done what we were sent here to do? What then?’
‘Then we just have to wait.’
Adialon shook his head. ‘I cannot wait, Boy. Every moment I stay longer makes me lose my mind all the more. I do not belong here.’
‘It’s true, Adialon. You don’t belong on planet earth. Neither do I. No one belongs here, because we were all sent here from somewhere else.’
‘From the heavens. From the dwelling place of God, yes.’
The Boy nodded pensively. ‘Is there no reason you can find to stay? No cause you would fight for, no lives you would save?’
Adialon shrugged. ‘I am more tired than I ever thought possible. The fight has nearly left me. I do not feel as though I have the strength to save more lives. And as for a cause, you have the gift of understanding and more besides. I would that you tell me true, have I not given my all to my cause?’
The Boy looked at him intently. ‘Yes, I think you have.’
‘Why, then, does God will me to stay here? What is my purpose now?’
‘You’re ready to go home, but maybe others aren’t ready for that yet.’
Adialon tensed. ‘Tell me that such is not true.’
‘But I am sure that your time is soon. I am almost willing to promise that it is.’
‘How can you be so certain? What knowledge has been imparted to you to tell you such as that?’
‘You’ve given him your heart, haven’t you? What else could that mean?’
‘Do you know all my secrets, Boy? How do you know all these things without seeming effort?’
‘That’s part of my ability. Part of my friends’ ability too.’
‘How did you come by this ability?’
‘I was born with the ability. My friends were given the ability later, after I had saved their lives.’
‘Was it in like manner as you saved mine, in the darkness?’
‘No. I saved their lives in our world and time, where the darkness is invisible.’
‘Will you tell me your tale? I am eager to hear it, for it seems that I must yet live for a time and I would sooner listen to an engaging story than sit alone to while away the time.’
The Boy looked at him for a few moments, lost in thought. Adialon waited patiently, for there was little else he could do. Perhaps the Boy would say no, for it could not be doubted that with abilities such as theirs, the Boy and his friends would have suffered greatly. A great mind and heart went together with great suffering. Unless the Boy had told his tale before, many times over, he doubted if doing so now would or could be done with ease.
‘Yes, I will tell you,’ the Boy said. ‘But my story, our story, can’t be told all at once. It will take a long time, so long that we will have to share it a piece at a time.’
‘We meaning you and your friends of light?’
‘Yes. Me and my friends of light.’
‘That would be well. Where are your friends? Can they be summoned quickly?’
‘They will come when it’s time to share their part in this story. Until then they’ll be doing other things.’
Adialon nodded. He had hoped that he would see the Boy’s companions sooner, but if such was not to be, he would wait patiently.
‘Where does this tale begin, then?’
‘It begins with the birth of a child with a special ability. The baby boy can sense the thoughts and emotions of others, even when very, very young. This is good to a point, because the baby can learn much more rapidly about the world around him. His parents are thrilled to have been given such a child for their own, and use everything they have to teach him all he can learn. But soon they find out there’s a problem with the young boy’s ability. He begins to soak up all the emotions and thoughts of everyone around him- both good and bad. It gets so bad that the boy slowly loses his ability to function normally. Everything he is feeling becomes too much for him to deal with. He slowly begins to progress toward a breakdown. His parents are very concerned, and know that they have to do something to save their very young son. They take him and many supplies and leave the city’-
‘What does this mean, city?’ asked Adialon.
‘It’s like a bunch of large villages put together,’ explained the Boy.
‘Ah. Please continue.’
‘They leave the city for the forest, where they live from now on. They spend the next few years there, where they learn to grow their own food and live in a shelter they make with their own hands, much like the people in your village do.’
‘Then, after a few more years of living in peace, the boy’s parents become sickened?’
‘Yes,’ the Boy said sadly. ‘Some unknown sickness or disease takes hold of them. They know, they can feel that they don’t have much time left, and they know the boy must stay in the forest, so they teach him all they can, and give him a special tool to defend himself against the darkness.’
‘What is this tool?’
‘It’s called the Ocular. With it the boy’s abilities are magnified. With it the boy can learn all he desires to learn- about the world around him, about other people, about himself.’
‘A powerful tool,’ observed Adialon.
‘Yes, it is. But since it’s so powerful, his parents make sure that it’s hidden. He can still use it; because of his abilities he’s always using it.’
‘But it is made secure against the event of its being discovered by those who would use it for ill purposes.’
‘Yes,’ the Boy said, nodding. ‘I know you can understand that very well.’
‘Indeed. But please continue.’
© 2010 by Adam Scott Campbell. All rights reserved.

The Dreamer Pt. Ten

That night Adialon prayed again in gratitude. He prayed, thankful for the life granted him. He prayed in gratitude for the people in his village, who cared so much for him. He prayed in thanks for others who had the same ability he had, to dream, whether or not they were angels. He prayed in gratitude for the help they had been to him, in saving him from the darkness. He thanked his Maker for the marvelous, powerful gift of song which had held the darkness at bay while he moved toward the light. He thanked Him for his sister, Melorelah and her wonderful, calming influence. He spent a long time there, kneeling before his Maker, pouring his soul out. There seemed to be no end to the list of things to be grateful for. He knelt for so long that his legs lost the feeling in them, and his arms and hands became numb…
Adialon received his wish that night. He dreamed he was atop a hill overlooking a grassy plain. As he awoke into his dream, he sat up, and then arose to his feet. He looked down the hill to his village, where his kinsfolk slept. A surge of emotion welled up in him. He did not long to be with them, but he felt as though he had left a great part of himself in their midst.
As indeed I have, he thought, remembering his Heart. Perhaps this is what I shall ever feel, away from each of them. Until we meet again, dear ones.
He raised his hand in token of a silent farewell.
‘There’s no need to say goodbye just yet,’ said a voice behind him.
Adialon turned in surprise.
There the Boy stood with a small smile on his face.
‘You’ll see them again.’
‘I know I shall,’ Adialon replied. ‘Whether in this life or in the next, be it according to the will of God.’
‘I’m curious,’ said the Boy. ‘Why do you feel such sadness at being parted with them? You don’t want to be among them anymore.’
‘I suppose because I am wary of leaving such a vital part of myself with them, unprotected and unbeknown to them. It seems I am taking a frightful risk.’
The Boy shook his head. ‘You’ve given your Heart the best protection it could have- no one but your sister knows about it. You know she’ll never tell anyone.’
‘How is it you are able to discern my every thought, Boy?’
The Boy smiled. ‘That’s part of my ability.’
‘What else can you do?’
‘I can do anything I want to do.’
‘Anything? Anything you desire?’
‘Yes.’
By an unspoken agreement, they both sat down upon the ground, facing one another.
‘We come to the question I asked your friend, the one who was adamant in her claim that she was no angel,’ said Adialon. ‘Why do you tether yourself here on earth, when you so readily could depart for heaven? What holds you back?’
‘The same thing that holds you back- the fact that people need me here, and need us here.’
‘But why? Is not God watching over all of us? Can He not watch over those we leave behind?’
‘Yes. But that’s not the only thing to think about. There are things that we might need to do still, part of our reason for coming here in the first place. Things that only we can do.’
‘And if we have done what we were sent here to do? What then?’
‘Then we just have to wait.’
© 2010 by Adam Scott Campbell. All rights reserved.

The Dreamer Pt. Nine

Within the blazing white light he saw four figures, from whom the light seemed to be emanating. Each of them knelt on the ground, heads bowed, eyes closed and arms folded. Together they formed a circle facing inward.
They are praying! he thought in awe. Even in the midst of this deathly blackness, they are praying.
And I shall join them!
He moved forward, intending to kneel just outside the circle, for it was very tightly formed and he did not want to disturb them. As he moved within a few steps, however, they shifted around on the ground, leaving an open place for him.
They can feel me. He knelt on the ground among them, feeling unworthy to be in their presence. For who was he to dwell among angels, whose light he could not, at first, bear to behold? Who was he to presume to kneel here among them, whose very presence kept the darkness at bay?
He folded his arms and bowed his head.
He could think of nothing to ask for; instead he gave voice to the gratitude brimming within.
…I thank thee for carrying me through the darkness. I thank thee for giving me the gift of song. I thank thee for the marvelous light which has saved my life. I thank thee for these, thine angels round about me. Always hast thou been near me. Always hast thou watched over me. May I in some way repay thee for all which thou hast done for me. May thy will ever be done…
He did not know how long he knelt there, pouring his soul out to his Heavenly Father. All he knew was that he wanted to pray, and to keep praying, forever. It felt like no other time he had prayed, for he felt closer to heaven in this ‘eye of the storm’ than he ever had in less dangerous circumstances. It was almost as if he needed the darkness to have the intense desire to cling to the light. It was also as if these shining beings, these angels filled with light were in as much need as he was to pray. And he felt certain that it was their combined prayers that held the darkness at bay, just as his song had kept him from fainting while he had traveled through it. As he continued to pray, he began to be filled with a desire to know the identities of these angels among whom he knelt. Who were these angels, and how did they come to have such a light about them? How were they able to sustain such a marvelous brilliance when it had taken all he had had to merely hold the darkness at bay? And who was he to wonder?
At that moment he felt a hand come to rest on his shoulder. His eyes opened in surprise.
One of the angels, a female, had placed her hand on him. Her eyes looked into his for a moment, and he felt that she could see deep into his soul. Her countenance was so bright, so beautiful, that his heart was nearly overcome with emotion. He could not speak.
‘It’s okay,’ she whispered to him. ‘It’s going to be okay now. You’re safe here.’
He smiled his gratitude to her. How had she known that his heart was filled with turmoil when he had not spoken?
‘There aren’t secrets here when we’re filled with the light,’ she said, answering his unspoken question.
At last his tongue was freed, but before he was able to give voice to the questions that burned within him, she raised a hand.
‘Let’s go over here where we can talk without being too noisy for them,’ she said, indicating a spot a few paces away.
When they had both retreated from the other three angels, Adialon gave his voice free reign.
‘How did you hear my thought, O angel? How are you able to keep the darkness at bay with such ease? Who are you, and where do you come from? How do you burn with white light without being consumed?’
‘You are nearly filled with it too, but you haven’t realized it,’ she said to him.
‘How can this be? There was a boy who was with me before I was engulfed by the darkness, who told me much the same thing.’
‘Was it that boy?’ she asked quietly, pointing back to where the remaining three angels still knelt.
Adialon searched their faces intently for a moment.
‘Yes!’ he exclaimed. ‘The angel in the center has the face of the boy with whom I spoke.’
‘Why do you keep calling us angels?’ she asked curiously.
‘Is that not what you are, in truth? How else could you shine forth so brightly? I find it difficult to believe that mere people could do the same.’
‘People can be angels, and angels, people,’ she told him.
‘Then you are angels,’ he concluded. ‘Whether you realize it or not.’
The angel shrugged. ‘Maybe. I guess to some people we are.’
‘Then you are closer to the throne of God than we are! Why do you not return to Him when you are so close? What is it that holds you here, when it must be said that you belong somewhere else? Could you not pray that He take you to him? Do you not want to return?’
Adialon noticed a subtle change in the angel’s eyes. He did not at first know what it was, but she seemed to be looking at him with new eyes, as though seeing him for the first time.
She was frightened! Adialon reeled in shock. An angel, frightened! What was there on earth that could frighten such a being?
‘I’m not an angel,’ she said shakily. ‘I’m just a girl. A girl with some special abilities, but that’s all.’
‘A girl,’ he repeated, unbelieving. He wanted to shake her. It could not be true.
‘It is true, Adialon,’ said another voice. He turned and saw the Boy walking toward him, his light hidden again.
‘Boy! How can you be anything other than angels? I do not understand it!’
‘You’re taking all of this in much too quickly. You need to take a break from it. I will take you back to the place you fell asleep in.’
Adialon took several slow, deep breaths.
‘Perhaps you are right. It is, no doubt, for the best.’
‘That’s right,’ the Boy said encouragingly. ‘Come on, now.’
They began to move away from the others. Adialon did not look back, for he was falling into shock. The darkness melted away as they moved through it. Soon it had all dispersed.
The Boy began to ask him questions about his homeland. How many people lived in his village? What sorts of things did they do for exercising, for working, for fun? Were there many animals? What kind of animals did they have? Was it warm there, or did the weather change with the seasons? Were there many lakes and streams, oceans and rivers? Were there great mountains and rolling hills, or were there great expanses of plains as far as the eye could see? Were there many children in their villages? How many children in each family he knew? Did they keep animals as companions?
Before long Adialon fell into a kind of half-stupor. He would stumble along beside the Boy, completely at a loss as to where to put his feet or how to steady himself with his arms. He had forgotten how to walk. At times the Boy would put a hand on his shoulder to steady him, other times he would give an encouraging word.
‘You’re doing great.’
‘Keep on going, we’re almost there.’
‘Watch out for that rock.’
‘Come around the tree this way.’
It seemed as though an entire age was passing as they traveled. Adialon felt so weak, as though he had lost all strength in addition to losing his balance.
He could not think of what he would do when he returned to where he had slept. He did not feel as though he had the strength to gather food, or to hunt meat, for he was yet loathe to go back to the village.
‘Don’t worry about it,’ the Boy said. ‘It will be taken care of.’
He accepted the answer without question.
In time they reached the grove.
There sat on the ground a large, hand woven basket, filled with fruits, herbs of the field, and nuts of various kinds.
‘The people of your village care a great deal for you,’ the Boy observed.
‘Yes,’ came Adialon’s simple answer.
‘I’ll leave you here to sleep. We’ll see you soon. Try to stay busy, okay?’
‘Yes,’ Adialon said again as he sat down upon the ground. After a moment he turned to ask the Boy when he would meet them again, but the Boy was gone.
He lay down as he had at the beginning of the dream, closed his eyes, and awoke. He sat up, looking around him. There on the ground before him was the basket of food.
He realized that he was ravenously hungry.
He took his time, feeling as though he was too weak to rush. He savored the sweetness of the fruit, peeling, cutting and eating each piece. He enjoyed the taste of the herbs, and the nuts. As he ate, his sensitivity to his surroundings, the scent of the trees and grass, the wind blowing in his hair, the sight of the late afternoon sun going down, returned. He was alive again, and more so than before.
Adialon found, for the first time in a long while, that there was something he longed for other than death.
He longed to dream again.
© 2010 by Adam Scott Campbell. All rights reserved.

The Dreamer Pt Eight

Adialon hurried toward the place where he and the Boy had last spoken. When he was within a few paces, he became aware of a dark cloud before him, and suddenly was afraid.
He did not know where it came from or why he did it, but he started singing an old lullaby his mother had sang to him when he was very little.

A child of Heavenly Father am I
I am worth worlds above
And if I always stay near the light
I will be embraced by His love

As he sang Adialon could feel the darkness becoming thicker. Though he became more afraid, he sang all the clearer, willing the darkness to disperse.

No darkness can ever withstand
The light that flows from His throne
And if I always stay near the light
I never shall be all alone

Now the darkness was all around him. Though he was deathly afraid now, he kept singing, feeling that it was his only weapon against such an unfathomable foe.

The angels are always near me
To help me on my way
The nearer I come unto the light
The brighter shall be each day

The darkness seemed to be thickening, hemming in around him on every side.

He is always nearer
Than we think He’ll be
The nearer we come unto the light
The more we shall be free

He began to see flashes of light from further within the darkness.

Though the darkness fights me
As I strive toward the light
The brighter my own light becomes
As I choose the right

The flashes of light were coming nearer. Adialon continued to sing, going over the same verses again and again as he moved through the darkness. He was unable to think of anything else to do, for the darkness seemed to stifle every other thought.
Then from the midst of the darkness, a light burned brighter than any before it and held. Adialon moved instinctively toward it, as a drowning man moves toward a piece of driftwood. As he came closer, the darkness thinned, little by little. The light became bright and brighter, until there seemed to be only a thin curtain of darkness between he and the light. He stumbled forward another step or two, and broke through the curtain. Adialon threw up his arm to shield his eyes, for after being in the darkness his eyes were not prepared to view anything so bright. Within the blazing white light he saw four figures, from whom the light seemed to be emanating. Each of them knelt on the ground, heads bowed, eyes closed and arms folded. Together they formed a circle facing inward.
They are praying! he thought in awe. Even in the midst of this deathly blackness, they are praying.
© 2010 by Adam Scott Campbell. All rights reserved.

The Dreamer Pt. Seven

‘I come here every night when I dream. I have come ever since I was a toddler- a one- or two-year-old,’ the Boy added at Adialon’s confused look. ‘I have never lost my ability to see, because I treasure it as a precious gift, though a heavy gift.’
‘Indeed,’ Adialon nodded. ‘I feel as though I am rediscovering an old gift. I used to dream when I was younger, but have since lost it, the ability or the aptitude.’
‘You haven’t lost it. You’ve just forgotten it.’
‘Are they not the same?’
‘No. One is about the physical world, one is about memory.’
‘Ah. I see your reasoning. So what happens at this time?’
‘There is a lost little boy wandering alone up this next street. I'll go to comfort him and take him home. What about you?’
Adialon knew instinctively that he needed to learn all he could about this world, and he also knew that this boy, if anyone, could teach him.
‘I will come with you.’
‘This is a dangerous world,’ the Boy warned him. ‘If you stay, you will be under constant attack, whether you know it or not.’
‘You have survived thus far,’ Adialon pointed out. ‘Will you teach me to do the same?’
The Boy nodded slowly. ‘Yes.’
The Boy strode down the pathway of stone, Adialon following. In a moment they turned a corner onto the next- ‘Street,’ Adialon thought aloud, remembering what the Boy had said. A little two or three year old boy sat on a raised part of the street, weeping piteously.
Adialon watched closely to see what the Boy would do. Power blazing forth is hardly what the child needs, thought Adialon.
The Boy squatted on his heels next to the child, who looked up with red, swollen eyes, tears streaming down his face.
‘Hey there,’ he murmured. ‘It’s going to be okay.’
The child looked solemnly up at the Boy for a moment. Then, to Adialon’s wonder, he reached up his arms toward the Boy, who gently picked him up.
‘Come on, buddy. Let’s get you home.’
Adialon followed as the Boy carried the child, curled up with his face buried in the Boy’s shoulder.
Time passed as they crossed one street and turned onto another, until Adialon had lost all sense of direction. The Boy must know where he is going. Soon the little boy had stopped crying. In only a few moments more the child had fallen into a deep slumber, his fears and sorrows forgotten.
Such a simple thing to do, Adialon thought, to reach out and care for someone else. We are much the same, really. Both giving of ourselves. Both concerned for those in our sphere of influence.
‘We’re almost there,’ said the Boy.
The Boy had taken only a few more steps when he stiffened, looking around him in sudden alarm. He quickly turned to Adialon. ‘Take him!’ he said, handing the child over to Adialon, who accepted the child into his own arms unquestioningly. The Boy pointed to a dwelling farther up the street. ‘He lives there. Hurry!’
The Boy then turned away, his hands tightening into fists as though readying himself for a fight.
Adialon did not stay to find out what would happen. He hurried to the dwelling the Boy had pointed out, and rapped smartly on the dwelling’s closed portal. Almost immediately the portal opened, to show a diminutive, raven-haired woman, whose face was streaked with dried tears. At first the woman seemed wary, almost afraid of him, but then her eyes fell to the child in his arms.
‘Sammy!’ she cried. ‘Oh, Sammy, my poor boy!’ She reached out to take the slumbering child into her own arms. She held him close, rocking him slowly back and forth. Her eyes then returned to him.
‘Thank you! Thank you so much! I have been so worried. I took him with me to visit my friend and we were talking in her yard; I put him down for moment, talking to my friend, and when I looked down he was gone.’
‘Twas my pleasure, lady,’ he said awkwardly. ‘In truth, it was not I but my friend who found him.’
‘Will you please tell him thank you for me?’ she smiled through her tears.
‘I shall.’
When the portal had closed, Adialon turned, looking up the street from whence he had come.
The Boy was gone.
Adialon hurried toward the place where he and the Boy had last spoken. When he was within a few paces, he became aware of a dark cloud before him, and suddenly was afraid.
© 2010 by Adam Scott Campbell. All rights reserved.

The Dreamer Pt. Six

He was in the same place he had left, outside the dwelling- place. There the boy stood with his back to Adialon. The light that surrounded him before was gone.
Or hidden, Adialon thought.
‘I know who you are,’ said the boy.
‘Who am I?’ Adialon asked, curious as to the boy’s answer.
The boy turned to face him. ‘You’re a man of courage. You’ve fought a lot of battles with your enemies, and have lost a lot of them, but haven’t ever quit. You have saved your family from being wiped out. Everyone in your village owes their life to you, whether they know it or not.’
‘I suppose that is true; however, I was simply doing what I could for my kith and kin.’
‘Family and friends,’ the boy said, nodding. ‘But that’s not all you’ve done.’
‘What is it you imply?’
‘You have laid your soul down as an open sacrifice for everyone you know. Not just your body, but your whole soul. You have given up everything you want for the benefit of everyone else. You have been completely selfless in what you have done. You have fought for so long and spread yourself so thin that you cannot feel any more strength inside you to fight with.’
‘You are not wrong,’ Adialon said. He sat down upon a large rock. The boy sat on another rock across from him.
‘Since you already know so much about me, you must know my name.’
‘But it would be rude to not ask you anyway,’ the boy replied. ‘So, what’s your name?’
‘I am called Adialon where I have come from. What are you called?’
‘They call me Boy.’
‘That is all? Just Boy?’
‘Yes. I have another name, but it’s hidden.’
‘Has it always been hidden?’
‘Ever since I was very little.’
Adialon nodded. He decided not to press the matter. He then looked around him, at the trees and the sky.
‘What world is this?’ Adialon wondered aloud.
‘It is two worlds at once,’ the Boy replied. ‘The dream world, and the spirit world. Anything can happen here. Anything at all.’
‘Then it is a place where worlds meet?’
‘Worlds, and times too.’
‘Do we come from the same world, or perhaps the same time?’
‘Not the same time. Maybe different times of the same world, but I don’t know.’
‘How were you able to do that, before? How were you able to show yourself to the man, and the little girl, back yonder? Were we not, are we not still dreaming?’
‘Yes,’ the Boy said. ‘But we’re dreaming what is really happening. Our dreams are real.’
‘Real dreams. Then they are not truly dreams. They are in fact-’
‘Reality. Yes, they are.’
Adialon pondered this for a moment. Then his questioning began anew.
‘How did you blaze forth, like a torch in a dark place? How did you do such a thing without burning yourself to ash?’
‘My light comes from inside me; so does yours.’
Adialon looked himself over. ‘I see no light.’
‘You have to see it with your spiritual eyes. Maybe you haven’t developed them well enough to see yet. And that’s how others will see you here. When you share your light, it grows. The more it grows, the more people can see it.’
‘How do you know so much of this world? I sense that you are very wise, and yet so very young.’
‘I come here every night when I dream. I have come ever since I was a toddler- a one- or two-year-old,’ he added at Adialon’s confused look. ‘I have never lost my ability to see, because I treasure it as a precious gift, though a heavy gift.’
‘Indeed,’ Adialon nodded. ‘I feel as though I am rediscovering an old gift. I used to dream when I was younger, but have since lost it, the ability or the aptitude.’
‘You haven’t lost it. You’ve just forgotten it.’
‘Are they not the same?’
© 2010 by Adam Scott Campbell. All rights reserved.

The Dreamer Part Five

A wave of loss swept over him at what had been. Tears again came to his eyes as he knelt by the rock.
It is I who have changed. Adialon folded his arms and bowed his head with the tears pouring down his face.
‘Oh my Father in Heaven…’
That night he dreamed of a small dwelling place. Before the dwelling’s front entrance, a tall, thin man sat. In his hand he held a small twig, its end glowing. He raised the twig and placed the end of it between his lips. After a moment, he removed the twig and blew a cloud of smoke into the air.
Adialon’s mouth opened in astonishment. This man can breathe fire!
At that moment a portal opened in the dwelling’s wall, and a small girl appeared in the opening.
‘Daddy?’
The man turned and screamed at her to get back inside. The girl, now terrified, turned and fled into the dwelling. The man arose and followed after her, a look of intense rage on his face. Though Adialon did not understand the child’s salutation, he could not allow this man to harm such an innocent soul. He followed silently after the man into the dwelling.
The child was cowering against the wall, tears running down her face, her small arm raised in defense.
‘No, Daddy!’
The man’s arm was raised to strike her. Adialon moved forward to stop him, but before he had come between man and child he felt an immense power of some kind rush past him. A brilliant light blazed before the man, who, much like the child had, cowered in sudden fear.
Adialon raised his arm instinctively to shield his vision.
Then his eyes were drawn downward by sudden movement. The child was reaching toward the light, her face aglow with rapture. From within the light he saw two shining arms emerge, which reached down and picked the child up from the ground. The angel held the child close, the child’s tear-streaked face now buried in the angel’s chest.
The angel suddenly turned his head and looked into Adialon’s eyes.
It was the boy’s face that he saw.
He awoke abruptly, breathing hard. He arose from his bed of grass and twig and paced back and forth, trying to grasp what he had seen.
The boy has become an angel? How is this possible? Has he died, thereby reaching the throne of God, and been sent from heaven to return to earth? The boy is dead!
He shook his head, disgusted with himself.
Perhaps Melorelah had been right. Perhaps my dreams, this time at the least, are nothing but dreams after all.
But it felt so real! It must be real! It simply must be!
He lay back down, battling within himself.
There is but one thing I can do, he decided. I must re-enter the dream world, and find the boy, wherever he may be. He laid his head back down upon the rock…

He was in the same place he had left, outside the dwelling- place. There the boy stood with his back to Adialon. The light that surrounded him before was gone.
Or hidden, Adialon thought.
‘I know who you are,’ said the boy.
‘Who am I?’ Adialon asked, curious as to the boy’s answer.
© 2010 by Adam Scott Campbell. All rights reserved.

The Dreamer Pt. Four

‘The boy may have seen the others who were there; I did not see that far into his mind. And I do not know who he was, except that I felt a kinship with him. But his mind! What an incredible thing it was.’
‘How do you mean?’
‘In some ways it was a very wise mind- like that of the elders, well-versed in the ways of life, full of knowledge, very empathetic to those in pain, and so forth- and in other ways, very childlike. He did not understand the desire that some have to hurt one another, to take without asking, to love without loving. Also, I did not know exactly what it was or where it came from, but I felt a power residing within him.’
‘A power? A power to do what?’
‘Anything. Anything he desired to do, he could do. And no one could stop him if he did not want to be stopped.’
‘A terrifying thought, that anyone could be so powerful.’
‘Perhaps. More exhilarating to my mind, in the hands of such a goodly soul. Imagine the difference such a soul will make in the world.’
‘Would make, you mean, if he were real.’
‘No. He was real- is real. I could feel him, Melorelah. Even as I feel you, or our people in the village down below us.’
‘Where did he come from? Did you sense that in his mind?’
‘Only two locations occurred to me while we were in each other’s minds. He is either from another time, or from another world.’
‘What did you see while you were in his mind? Anything to show you hints of where or when he came from?’
‘I saw many things, most of which I had no understanding for, or which only confused me. I saw him weeping a great amount, in his own mind- as though he had internalized his sorrow. I saw the bodies of those who had cared for him the most; his parents, now dead from some unknown, deathly poison or illness. I could see it in their still, cold faces. The boy was weeping, not knowing what has killed them but feeling that he should have been able to stop it.’
‘The poor child! I wonder what he will do now.’
‘I know not, but I feel that I shall dream of him again. Perhaps even tonight.’
Melorelah looked upon him, sadness written upon her face and in her eyes. ‘Where shall you spend this night, Adi? Among our people?’
‘No. I shall remain here, where I may ponder without distraction upon the experiences I have had.’
She looked as though she wanted to say something to him, but then stopped.
‘We love you, Adialon. I pray you, do not stay long away.’
‘I shall return as soon as ever I can,’ he promised. They embraced, and Melorelah turned to leave.
‘I shall ever pray for you, my brother.’
‘And I, you.’… He watched as she began to pick her way down the mountainside. When he could see her no longer, he turned and began to make his way to the top of the mountain. He knew of a large grove of trees at the top of the mountain, and it was to this he directed his steps.
An hour later he stood before the beautiful grove. The trees swayed gently in the breeze. He breathed in the cool, fresh air, closing his eyes for a moment to better enjoy the peace and serenity.
As he entered the grove, he saw the rock that he had visited, three years earlier. The scene was very familiar to him. Familiar, and yet strangely foreign, as though something fundamental had changed.
A wave of loss swept over him at what had been. Tears again came to his eyes as he knelt by the rock.
It is I who have changed. Adialon folded his arms and bowed his head with the tears pouring down his face.
‘Oh my Father in Heaven…’
© 2010 by Adam Scott Campbell. All rights reserved.

See

Tell me what you see, he says to me.
I see, I say quietly, darkness, for I am in a hole,
And have been here for a very long time.
There are others in this hole of mine with me.
I can feel them all around me
And then it comes to me that there is a rock by my side.
I can feel its presence. I put forth my hands, and feel my way towards it.
My hands touch its cool, dry surface
I wish to be out of my hole
I reach up the rock, as far as I can, and find a place to hold onto
I pull myself up, placing my feet upon the rock as well
Slowly but steadily I climb up my rock
After hours, days, weeks, months, years, I have made it out of the hole
I am free!
Wait, he says, you have forgotten something.
What? I ask, surprised.
What about everyone else in the hole?
I have forgotten them
You have a light, he says. You must share your light with others
He is right. I know he is right.
What about you, I ask.
I’ve done a lot of bad things, he says, shaking his head.
So have I, I tell him. So have I.
He shakes his head again. What I’ve done is bad
There’s no coming back from where I have gone.
That is not true, I say to him. You can always come back.
You just have to believe you can.
He does not believe me, and shakes his head once more
I do not know what to say to help him, but then it comes to me-
I can share my light with him
I then go to my quarters, and retrieve it- one piece of my heart.
Returning to him, I give it to him to keep.
Tears come to his eyes as my light within blazes forth.
As it shines, the light in his heart, the light he never knew he had,
Begins to shine too.

Free to Make Mistakes

Free. To Fly. To run. To give.
Free to share. To love. To live.
To be all that I can be.
To see as far as I can see.
To know all that I must know.
Free to grow and grow and grow.
I desire to fly higher.
I desire to run farther.
I desire to give all that I can give.
I desire to share my soul.
To love pure, and good, and whole.
To live a life that saves other lives.
To be a force for good.
Not a model of perfection,
But a model of striving for perfection.
Not someone who doesn’t make mistakes,
But someone who makes many mistakes, and learns from them,
And then makes more mistakes, and learns from them in turn.

The Dreamer Pt. Three

‘Have you not noticed, Adialon, that your life has been one miracle after another? Have you not noticed that every time you are close to death, something happens to keep you breathing? That every time you are surrounded by the darkness and yet keep going, your life is saved by the light at the last moment? How many times, Adialon?’
‘Innumerable,’ he muttered. ‘Of a truth, innumerable.’
‘Then how can you doubt that God will carry you in this, as he has in times past?’
He shook his head slowly. ‘I do not doubt that God will carry me; I know that he will. It is my strength to endure that I doubt, for I can bear my pain no longer.’
‘Your wounds will heal, Adi,’ she said softly.
‘I speak not of this flesh and bone, but of the spirit within them!’ he cried. ‘It is torn and shredded, bruised and battered; no mortal balm can possibly grant me healing!’
‘And you have used your miraculous bird to carry a message to our Father God? What message did you send Him, Adialon?’
‘I have begged Him to take me Home! To strike me down by His Almighty hand and take me to His bosom!’
‘Oh no, brother! Say not that you have thus tempted God!’
‘It is how I feel! Would you rather that I lied to that Being who knows all? He has commanded us to send our prayers on high, and I shall obey.’
‘We pray in gratitude and humility, brother, we pray that our wills may align with His,’ said Melorelah as she finished bandaging his arm.
‘I can no longer accept His will,’ he said bluntly. ‘I have been pushed beyond what I can endure. I was giving my all, my utmost, to do the tasks that were mine to complete, to give thanks to my Father in Heaven, to share my hard-earned light with others, to be the example to our brothers and sisters in the village. And after all of that, when all I want is to return Home, I am still here.’
‘You are focused, entirely too much, on death, Adi. It is destroying you, slowly and painfully, every moment. Focus on life! For your own sake, focus on life! There is still much you are called to do. Your ending may be soon, but you must find something to live for while you are still here. Your eternal welfare depends upon it!’
Adialon mumbled something.
‘What, Adialon?’
‘I know it,’ he repeated. ‘I am trying to find something to live for.’
‘I think you will find it the more you continue to try,’ she said encouragingly.
Adialon was silent for a moment. When he spoke, she had to draw even nearer to hear his whisper.
‘I may have stumbled upon it.’
‘What have you found?’
Adialon again became silent. Then he turned to her slowly. ‘Do you remember when we were children? Do you remember how the elders would take each of us aside at times and speak with us, about our feelings, our thoughts, our hopes and fears, our dreams?’
‘Yes, I remember that very clearly. It was good for all of us, I think. It helped to connect the younger generations with the older.’
‘Yes, it did. We were taught to be mindful of them, of our thoughts and feelings.’ He paused. ‘The elders were especially interested in our dreams, I remember. At least, they were very intrigued by mine. I remember some of them, mostly the younger set of elders, who were frightened by my dreams and what they might mean, as though they thought they were more than just dreams- visions, if you will. But the remainder were intrigued by them. They would question me for upwards of an hour at a time, having me describe my dreams, sometimes going over the same dream, or one part of a dream, over and over. I did not realize it at the time, but once I started having dreams, people in the village began to treat me differently, somewhat. It was as though they did not know how to act around me.’
‘It is true, Adialon,’ Melorelah sighed. ‘Some of us were frightened, some awed, and some inspired. You helped to shape the course of the entire village.’
‘Were you frightened by me?’
‘No. You were my strong, powerful, indestructible older brother. I was proud of you then. I am more proud of you now, for it takes great strength to share your wounded heart with another, no matter how close.’
Again Adialon looked at her strangely. This time Melorelah caught it.
‘What is it?’
Adialon shook his head. ‘We were speaking of my dreams. I had them less and less as I gave away my Heart of hearts. And on the eve of the day that I gave away the last piece, I had my last dream. I will tell you what I dreamed, if you wish to hear.’
Melorelah nodded.
‘I dreamed that I was in a shimmering fog, like a cloud of light. I was walking through the fog, it seemed an interminable length of time, when I came to the realization that there were others in the fog with me. I could somehow feel them near. After another lengthy period, the light-fog began to gather into human-sized shapes. Soon they began to solidify into real people all round me. As I walked among them, trying to talk with one here, another there, I came to another realization- they could not sense me near. After walking among them for a time- unheard, unseen- I felt someone’s eyes on the back of my head. I turned to look, and there he was, a boy unlike any I had seen. Like many of those among whom I walked, he was dressed very strangely, in a loose, multicolored robe that hung open at the top, and leggings the color of water. But unlike all the others, he looked right at me, and I knew that he could see me, for pure intelligence flowed between us.’
‘Pure intelligence? You could see into his mind?’
‘And he into mine. I felt as though my mind were laid bare before him. Such an experience I have never had.’
‘But who was he? Why were you the only ones to see each other? Why did he look only at you?’
‘The boy may have seen the others who were there; I did not see that far into his mind. And I do not know who he was, except that I felt a kinship with him. But his mind! What an incredible thing it was.’
© 2010 by Adam Scott Campbell. All rights reserved.

Why

I sit here thinking on the significance of the life I’ve led.
I wonder what, before I lived, my Savior to me said.
I’m sure he shared the marvelous love he’s always had for me,
And showed me all things that my faith permitted me to see.
He knew I would face trials, troubles, tribulations too.
I have no doubt he told me to be strong, and good, and true.
He knew I’d make mistakes, and yet he wants me to come Home,
No matter that I’d wander far, and in the dark I’d roam.
I’ve reached a point that I have found my desire is the same.
I wish my Savior would my whole soul, in His power, claim.
Though I’m glad I’ve lived upon the earth, and touched hearts not a few,
I desire cleansing fire to make pure my heart anew.
And then I wish to stand before Him, made worthy once more.
I look upon His Face, and know He is the One I did it for.

Re-grip

I again re-grip on the Iron Rod I’d once released.
My angels have held on for me ever since my strength decreased.
I’ve come to know that angels do always me surround
To help me stay close to the marvelous light I once had found.
I have felt that the stakes are high in this war we fight.
It becomes ever harder, for I know the wrong from right.
My angels lend me strength when there is none I can feel
And when I cannot discern between dreams and what is real.
I know not how my life will end or what will come before
But I know what I shall do when I stand at heaven’s door.
I shall knock with all my strength, and if my strength fails then,
I shall wait until my strength returns, and I shall knock again!

The Dreamer Pt. Two

'It was my Heart of hearts that they were searching for. I therefore did what I had to do- I shattered the priceless jewel, my precious Heart, into a thousand pieces, and gave each piece to a different person.’
‘To whom, Adi?’
‘To those who needed the protection the most,’ Adialon said simply. ‘They hold those pieces to this day. Thus, our people live in peace and are protected from the enemy even now.’
‘But what if the pieces had been discovered? What untold danger would that have placed those of our people who held them in?’
‘They were well hidden. So well hidden, that those who held them were unaware of it- are unaware of it still.’
‘But then, what do you hold in that pouch, if they hold those pieces still?’
‘A Heart of hearts regrows when it has all been given away. With Thrifka’s help, I will give this new heart directly to my Father in Heaven- to my God. It is one piece short of being fully regrown, but I cannot wait any longer.’
‘You will give it all?’
‘All.’
‘But that could very well imply that you will be taken, with your heart, to Him.’
‘That is my hope.’
A piercing shriek rent the air once more as an enormous eagle swooped down to land on Adialon’s leather-clad arm. ‘Loreh, will you help me?’
‘Of course I will help you, Adi. What do I do?’
‘Take the pouch from around my neck, and place it on his.’
‘Will he not bite me?’
‘He is well trained. He will not bite you.’
Melorelah took the pouch’s cord and pulled it over his bowed head, then reached over to place it on Thrifka’s already lowered neck. The bird did not move until Melorelah was done. Then he dipped his beak faster than the human eye could see and caught the pouch’s cord.
‘Fly, Thrifka! Fly home to the God who gave us life!’ The great eagle flapped his mighty wings once, twice, thrice, and then in a blinding flash of white light, was gone.
‘What happens now, Adialon? We wait?’
‘I wait, and you return to our people.’
‘I cannot leave you here, Adialon! Not on this lonely, gray mountain. Not alone, and injured, and depressed.’
‘You must leave me, Loreh. I must approach my Father alone.’
‘At least permit me to bandage this for you!’
‘Eternal healing is the only healing I desire now’-
‘Please, Adialon!’
He sighed. ‘Very well. I would that you work quickly!’
‘So it shall be, my heart.’
Adialon’s eyes grew wide at her words. Melorelah did not see, for she was searching her saddlebags.
As she worked over his wound, she inquired of him, ‘What would it take to make you want to stay? I know that you have experienced incredible things. You have been immersed in the light of God. You have felt angels’ arms carry you through each day. You have been witness to the power of Satan; you have nearly been overcome by it, and yet have been saved at the last moment, by that wonderful light. You have experienced the blackest levels of hell. You have known the eternal joy of heaven. It is heaven that you long for, so much that it hurts you, deep inside. What would it take for you to desire to stay on earth, in a place where both are present? A place where they threaten to tear your soul apart?’
‘I know not,’ said Adialon. Then he sighed. ‘I do know, truly. It would take a miracle.’
She regarded him silently for a long moment.
‘What is it?’ Adialon asked finally.
‘Have you not noticed, Adialon, that your life has been one miracle after another? Have you not noticed that every time you are close to death, something happens to keep you breathing? That every time you are surrounded by the darkness and yet keep going, your life is saved by the light at the last moment? How many times, Adialon?’
‘Innumerable,’ he muttered. ‘Of a truth, innumerable.’
‘Then how can you doubt that God will carry you in this, as he has in times past?’
© 2010 by Adam Scott Campbell. All rights reserved.

The Dreamer Pt. One

‘See! I have brought you the leaf blood of a fair fireflower from the mountain of Gnularosh,’ she whispered hurriedly. ‘Drink it, and you will be healed of this dreadful illness, this terrible longing for death!’
Adialon looked upon the flask Melorelah held in her fair hands. His eyes turned to look sorrowfully into hers. ‘It is not for me to drink, Melorelah, but for you. I desire not healing, but an ending and a beginning. The healing is for you.’
Tears began to glisten in Melorelah’s sapphire eyes. ‘Your time is not yet, Adialon! Stay, and help those you still can!’
Adialon’s eyes tightened in sudden agony. ‘Do not speak it! I cannot bear it!’
‘But Adi!’
‘No! I will not return, for I have completed my task and paid dearly for it. It was not enough that I lost my right hand,’ he held up the still throbbing stump, ‘not enough that I must hunger and thirst after my goal, night after night, not enough that every breath brings a shudder from my innards. I am through!’ The tears began to leak from the corners of his eyes. ‘Do you understand, Melorelah? I am through, for I have given all I have to give. There is nothing left.’
Adialon slumped against the boulder in despair. Melorelah took his hands in her own, then drew them up to her tear- streaked face. ‘Dearest brother, dearest heart, I beg of you, do not lose hope!’
‘What hope is left, Loreh? It is gone now. I feel that I am drawing ever closer, day by day, to falling prey to the darkness. It appears attractive to my eyes.’
‘Stay far from it, brother! Come back to the light, and find your joy again!’
‘The light is joy indeed, Loreh, but the darkness is peace. I long for that peace as a bird longs for the sky, or a fish longs for the water.’
‘You must not leave, Adi!’ she cried. ‘What hope is there for us, without you? We need your strong spirit, your quick wit, your goodly heart. We need your song, your wise words, your inner light.’
‘The light is nearly gone’-
‘Then share it! Share it again, as you used to, and it will grow. I know it!’
‘I know it also, Loreh,’ he said softly. ‘I know it also. Would that I did not!’
‘What is it about knowing your greatness, your influence that hurts you inside? Why does it not fill you with your old joy, your old love for life?’
‘Because it is not my joy! Nor is it my love, my influence, or my greatness! It does not belong to me, but to that God whom has given us breath. And it hurts, Loreh, it hurts to feel such burning emotions at every turn, with no reprieve. It is far too much of an incredibly good thing.’
‘What would it take to make you able to bear these things? What would it take to make you want to stay, to live your life among the living?’
‘If I could know- not simply desire, but know- that my time had nearly come, I could bear to stay.’
‘Perhaps it has come; perhaps you are not ready for it, Adialon.’
‘Then woe is me. I desire to leave but am unable to do so, I am born to fly but have clipped my wings. How do I repair them now, Melorelah? How can they be regrown?’ He buried his face in his hands as the tears cascaded down his cheeks.
Melorelah held his shaking form in her arms and wept with him, asking in her heart for some way to help this precious soul…
. . . . . . . . . .
‘Call for your bird, Adialon. Would you not enjoy seeing him again?’
Adialon raised his head slowly. ‘I would like to see Thrifka, yes. There is a message I would have him carry.’
He arose from the ground and drew the thumb and pointer finger of his left hand to the corners of his mouth. Melorelah covered her ears as the piercing shriek rent the air. Twice more he blew his whistling summons, then sat back down upon the rock.
‘Will he hear your call, Adialon? He is likely many leagues away.’
‘He will hear,’ Adialon said softly. ‘He always hears when I call, for he carries a piece of me with him wherever he goes. He will hear.’ As he spoke, an answering shriek from an untold distance reached their ears.
‘It is incredible! How is this possible, Adialon? I knew that eagles have great hearing, but this?’
‘I could have whispered his name from twice the distance and he would have heard and answered my call. As I told you, he carries a piece of me with him.’
Adialon reached into his tunic and pulled out the pouch that hung around his neck, then looked at Melorelah. ‘Do you know what this contains?’
She shook her head, puzzled. ‘How could I? Unless- but you would not’- her jaw dropped. ‘No! Adialon! How could you- how have you-
‘I searched far and wide as I completed my task, Melorelah. I have found all but one of them- the pieces of my broken Heart of hearts.’
‘And what can you possibly intend to do with them?’ she asked, horrified. ‘You know the tales of our people far better than I. You must know the danger that lies in gathering one’s heart when it has been given away, with love, to others. I never knew that you were the one protecting our people from the enemy all these years past. It is true, is it not? It was to protect us that you left, three years ago.’
‘Yes, it was. It was my Heart of hearts that they were searching for. I therefore did what I had to do- I shattered the priceless jewel, my precious Heart, into a thousand pieces, and gave each piece to a different person.’
‘To whom, Adi?’
© 2010 by Adam Scott Campbell. All rights reserved.

Your Rock

Somewhere hidden, deep below, a monster feeds and grows
On one’s unvoiced feelings that no one has ever seen.
A passing word, a phrase or two, the effects of which no one knows.
But the danger is still lurking, for its host’s life the evil thing means.
One might seem cool, confident, poised and void of doubt.
But like many things, only what is inside matters in the end.
That thing that is inside you will eventually come out.
Then all will see what you really are, and know you’re not a friend.
What can you do then, when your face has been unmasked?
Will you still stand tall as you did once inside your mind?
An evil soul that has been unveiled will never be proud again,
For living a lie will bring what’s coming all in time.
When your love is lost, your joys gone, your ‘friends’ all but dead,
Where will you turn for comfort, where will you look for peace?
What will happen when that crying shoulder removes from under your head?
When you sleep on thorns and cactus instead of warm soft fleece.
A tower of straw will not stand- unless woven tightly together.
So also will you stumble and fall without a helping hand.
You cannot survive a storm of snow, a blizzard of destroying weather,
Unless you build your house on a rock, instead of on the sand.
Choose your company with plenty of thought, choose your company well.
From whom you’ll get your climbing gear- for it may save your life.
Likewise, surround yourself with those things your soul won’t sell.
Use many poles for your soul’s tent to save yourself from strife.

Invisible Bonds

Some think that those who live in the U.S.
Are free to roam from East to West.
They think in America, there are no more slaves,
But in the economy, slavery still raves.
Each day people have things they buy.
On everything, tax makes the price rise.
Never think a price is what it is.
Our leaders take from a man what was his.
And if you don’t pay tax from the mail,
Our greedy government puts you in jail.
More laws are made to make us obey.
This is why I say we are slaves.
I believe that we must fight back.
Put back in this country what it used to not lack.
Middlemen everywhere triple the cost.
Of everything we buy, so our money is lost.
They call America a republic of choice.
Most are proud of our flag, on their houses they hoist.
Some call it democracy, but I must disagree.
It’s the government that rules, solely.
We need to make it how it used to be,
To truly be the land of the free.
Get rid of the tax, and not even a ‘low rate’.
Then maybe people will lose some of their hate.
This country was founded by means of a war.
A war fought to say that we’d be taxed no more!
What has become of our right to choose
Whether or not we’d pay unjust dues?
Since our Fathers really meant for us to be free,
Then it is OUR choice whether taxed we will be.

The Crazy Man

A-walking down the street one day,
I met a man and he did say,
He told me I was crazy.
I told him the same thing.
Well just that night that man went home.
He told his wife and they did roam.
They told the governor in his home.
I got thrown into jail.
We went to court, I lost the case.
It was a very big disgrace.
They all laughed in my silly face.
I went back into jail.
That very night I got real mad,
Cause in a jail you are real sad.
I stole the cell guard’s keys- so rad,
And I broke out of jail.
I ran down the street with a wail,
With 25 guards on my tail.
With a scream I jumped over the rail.
Right smack onto a train.
I grabbed the side and pulled aboard.
The guards jumped on and gave a roar.
I gave a punch and punched some more,
And guards fell off the train.
Eventually, though, the guards still won.
I fought in vain when all was said and done.
I’m back in jail, it’s not much fun.
At least I’m still alive.

The Cursed Bean

There was a man a long time ago, who was obsessed with beans.
This would be the gaseous kind, not those scummy greens.
Because of this the hungry man always let out gas,
And it all poured out in a smelly gaseous mass.

Needless to say, this poor man never had too many guests,
But he was lucky, because at least he got to rest.
And though he had not many friends, he still had a precious few.
They also shared his bean problem, and often had to go poo

Well one day the bean man and his friends saw a group of girls.
All of them were really hot and knocked their brains to the floor.
The bean dudes decided to stop their habit- and eat no more beans.
From this day on they decided to just eat bean greens.

The smelly beanie guys really took this goal to heart,
And after lots of time they had less and less bean farts.
And then they started to become friends with lots of girls.
Good thing they stopped their habit, cause the girls now didn’t hurl.

Well finally the bean man proposed to a pretty female.
She said yes, they got married, the man’s friends gave a hail.
It’s a good thing he learned to stop eating all those beans.
If he hadn’t he’d have a problem, and his wife would scream.

They had a good long marriage, and had themselves some fun.
They really got along pretty well, when all was said and done.
One day the cured man’s wife threw a surprise party for him.
He was completely clueless, which made him afterwards feel dim.

He was on his way home from work, his normal daily routine.
He couldn’t help but stare at “Restaurant Exquisite Beans”.
He found himself automatically taking a detour.
He quickly parked and found himself at the door.

He went right in and spent $50 on many beans.
And ate them all- 4,000 spicy, gaseous fiends.
When he was done, he groaned, burped, and gave a mighty fart.
By chance he had a lighter, and lit a yard long blue dart.

The workers at the restaurant quickly kicked him out.
On his way home, he had gas, and took the longer route.
When he got into his home driveway, his truck really smelled.
But the Bean Man simply aired it out and said, “Oh well”.

He walked into the house, and his wife blindfolded him.
She led him to the dining room, the lights were really dim.
She sat him down and then walked out, to bring in a cake.
He tried to look like he was fine, though of course it was a fake.

He listened till he was certain that his wife was gone,
Then he stood, lifted his leg, and let out one that was long.
He took a couple strides and hops, let out a couple more,
Then he laid some S.B.D.’s, while rolling on the floor.

He sat back down quickly, before his wife came in.
She put the big cake down, and finally unblinded him.
And that is when he astonishingly gaped around in horror.
15 guests he hadn’t heard were gassed out on the floor.

4) Book On The Mountain

Though We The People try to struggle up
The mount of mud,
We leave an ugly trail behind
Of tears, of sweat, of blood.
We know that wrongs by those elected
Are done both day and night.
To keep themselves empowered, they seek
To kill Our every Right.
And now Our plight is so much worse
By giving them the time of day.
They play upon Our fears, that in their power
They may stay.
We keep crawling, but then stop;
Glancing up- a silent sound.
There stands a figure, bowed and bent
Waiting, higher on the mound.
A weathered face, a broken back
Shrouded in a dark, grey cloak.
From cracked, ne’er- used lips
Comes his first, and last, great croak.
‘Use it well! I’ve gathered all I could
From our nation’s past!’
From the black recesses of that cloak he pulls
A volume vast.
A tome of dark secrets, he thrusts into my hands
The needs of One great Nation
Our determination now demands.
Right and left, my compatriots give a firm nod
Back down upon the plains We stand,
Upon the now grey sod.
The sacred knowledge stored I place
Upon the frozen ground.
Together We grasp the volume’s clasp
One Nation ceases every sound.
Far off but growing louder,
Powers That Be are shouting ‘NO!’
‘The time is now, my friends!
Unclasp the clasp! Come on! LET’S GO!!’
‘NOW!!’ We shout together.
The tome’s inner light bursts forth.
In every direction it flows,
West and east, then south and north.
As our forefathers fought for their rights,
From sea to shining sea,
Our country now lies in our hands-
We will again be free!

3) Stopping the Storm

For one long moment more I gaze upon
The wretched scene:
One Nation at war, and at its sullied height,
The power machine.
From some great distance deep within
A scream begins to build.
For all our lives we’ve breathed this storm-
We now are overfilled!
‘LOOK!’ I bellow deep into
The huddled masses’ core.
‘Our real enemies use our energies
To fuel their war!
Our great country is divided
And as every great fool knows
A country divided cannot stand
If any strong wind blows.
LOOK atop our mountain
See for yourself the tempest’s cause!
The power machine is wringing out
Our life-blood in its jaws!”
One by one, they begin to hear, and look
And then to see,
And as they do, they understand at last
They are not free.
‘Our lives, our energies and rights
Their storm helps them to steal…
But it has grown so vast!’ they say, and then,
‘How can we heal?’
I say, ‘Open up your mouths,
Let your voices, too, be heard
What rights have been taken from you?
What crimes have you endured?
The power in this country to the People
Once belonged.
Let your voices, too, be heard.
You know, somehow, that we’ve been wronged.
Climb with us up the mountain’s side,
On its ugly, muddy form.
We need your help as never before-
Help us stop the storm!’

2) Others in the Storm

The storm has reached its highest peak,
My strength is at an end.
Although my light keeps me upright,
No mortal fiber can contend.
And now again my way is barred,
Not by stone walls before.
A soul now nearly numb beholds
One Nation, all at war.
Among the masses,
Anger, grief, hate, fear, and strife,
And yet in every one I see
Struggling rays of life.
Upon a mountain they don’t see
Each drop of sweat they throw.
And on their pain-filled struggles
This storm is given strength to grow.
Looking up upon the mountain’s height
The center of the storm,
By lightning, in sharp relief is seen
Many a human form.
For a moment they are all I see,
Veiled smiles on each face.
It is for their security they fuel
The Rodent’s Race.
In fighting each other,
Citizens of One Nation do not see.
One Nation, now divisible,
Has been made no longer free.
The light within is burning hot
It blazes white again.
I must help We The People,
Retake their rights again.
The mount of mud for which
Our labors are bled from us is wrong.
Our labors, by their nature
Are OURS, that we may live and thus be strong.
If the Powers That Be
Use not well power that was Ours to give,
It is Our sacred duty to take it back, that We might live.
The darkness keeps so many from seeing
The evils to them done.
It is now my task to share the light
The battle has begun!

1) Embracing The Storm

Long have I retreated before the tempest’s mighty wrath.
No matter how I twist and turn,
I stay centered in its path.
Maybe my time at last has come; I soon may hear the call.
For my way is barred by
An endless, sky-high wall.
Flight’s End before me, surely sounds of Death follow behind.
Now I have no choice but to choose
So I here make up my mind.
It helps me not to cower in a helpless, fearful form.
I step back from the cold, unfeeling wall,
And face the storm.
Once, twice, thrice
Against the rock my body’s thrown.
Through each successive blast
Both my pain and faith have grown.
I realize, if stay I here, my ending will be sure.
Now through the storm I push- each fiber plays its part as I endure.
Thunder, lightning, snow and hail,
Freezing rain each show their hand.
Still I’m pushing through the pain; still I stumble, fall, and stand.
The tempest’s fury grows, but my strength grows in equal measure.
Soon every pain-filled step holds
A touch of winner’s pleasure.
No sun is shown, no warming orb from heaven given me.
My light comes from within:
Though all is dark, at last I see!
I left the wall for the unknown; faith’s rock alone I stayed.
Waves of giddiness within- I no longer am afraid!

Impossibly Gorgeous

Smooth as vanilla, cold as ice,
Groovy like swing dance, tasty as spice,
Red like fire, bright as pure gold,
Worthy of all the worlds can hold.
Rough as the seas, warm as fresh bread,
Bitter, like tragedy, unmoving like the dead,
Free as the sky, yet crippling as money,
Sweeter than a beehive’s unrefined honey.
The golden steel, that beautiful blade,
Never doth that glitzy shine fade.
Sharp as a needle, hot as the sun,
Strong as the victory in tragedy won.
The golden girl, that femme fatale.
That smooth, groovy sashay never needed no ballet.
Walking along, singing my favorite song.
That flaming strudel can do no wrong.

The Anticipation

A prophet of old, six hundred measures of time
Before the year,
Foretold that wonderful day when Emmanuel
Would be here.
When Shepherds watched their flocks by night and heard
The angels sing,
They traveled to a stable to worship
Their Lord and King.
Men of learning studied and watched and prayed
To see the day,
That God would shine a beam of light to show
And point the way.
An old man who was promised that before
His life was done,
He would see his Savior, the Lord of lords
And Holy One.
And when lead by the Spirit to the
Temple of the Lord,
He said, “Now I have seen salvation, according
To thy word.”
He had waited a lifetime, only hoping
To get a glimpse.
Of his Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ,
The Holy Prince.
The heavens themselves had waited to proclaim
The Savior’s birth.
He who one day would suffer and die for the sins
Of all the earth.
And so let us all remember the importance
Of that day
Our eternal life depended on, of Him who has led
And shown the way.

The Chocolate Chip Cookie

Throughout this world of wonder
There are many things of merit,
And those with eyes to see at all
Know that we should share it.
Many edible things to eat,
And most go past the hips,
But nothing is quite as satisfying as
A bunch of chocolate chips.
Twas a genius who first took a chip,
And adding, though a rookie
Made a worldwide renowned recipe
With one gigantic cookie.
I don’t claim to be a genius,
But I can still enjoy a plate
Of these yummy gooey morsels,
Meant for anyone who eats great!

The Seed Of Faith

The seed of faith, the smallest of all.
The potential is there for that seed to grow tall.
Like a mustard seed, when planted with care,
Can grow to great heights, no beauty compares.
A child, it seems, is born as the tree.
His faith never wavers, turns or flees.
When opposition bids him fall,
He stands unaffected, a great steel wall.
Such powerful faith, such strength is not found
In men on this earth for miles around.
And yet the unfaithful teach the steel wall.
To the children it is we should give heeding call!
Why do we question what God has said?
Our faith is naught but a weak, thin thread
That bends under pressure, and finally breaks,
While the child’s? - stronger each day he makes.
Not questioning what he’s told to do,
Only doing, though it be great tasks or few.
I’ll strive to be like the child’s way,
And do what my God has told me today.
My faith will start as a seed, I know.
But as I nurture it, my seed will grow.
Someday I hope to be that great tree
That will stand next to the child’s, faithfully!

Take a Dare

One day on the edge of a cliff, from my friends I took a dare.
I jumped right off and left it to my luck how I would fare.
I guess I was real lucky, at the bottom there was a river.
When I landed in it, it was cold, and I started to shiver.
The river took me quickly along, I tried to stay afloat.
Since I couldn’t swim real well, I think I looked like a goat.
I grabbed a piece of driftwood, that luckily floated by.
But soon I was really soaked, it was hard to stay dry.
Soon I realized that this really wasn’t all that bad.
It was kind of like tubing, and that was pretty rad.
But then I looked ahead, Oh no, a waterfall!
I yelled for help, I don’t think anyone heard my call.
I decided if I was to die, I would go in style.
I jumped off and did a bomb, and then fell a mile.
When I reached the bottom, I hit the water-smack!
And then for a while, consciousness I lacked.
When I awoke, to my horror, I found I was tied up.
Around me people danced, and many drank from a cup.
The people were all dressed up like those on islands of the sea
Since everyone seemed so happy, I was filled with glee.
But then I glanced to my right, and saw a humongous fire.
I looked in the eyes of the people, and viewed hungry desire.
Some were sharpening knives and looked on me with hunger.
I had fallen among cannibals, life couldn’t get better.
Well I think it’s safe to say that my life is lost.
I took a dare, look what happened- my life is the cost.
So to those who like to be brave, I warn you- beware!
You never know what could happen if you take a dare.

Inner Strength

When conquering the inner fears,
One must look straight up.
Not doing so will simply keep
The gazer in a rut.
When goals are set and kept in sight,
No matter wind or gale
And one holds tightly to the right
He simply cannot fail.
And if the warrior stumbles hard
It matters not where or when.
It matters only if he fights
Until he stands again!
A hero is not made
By huge muscles built in ease
But by the many times
He has struggled from his knees.
For in the painful struggles
Is where hidden strength be found.
By demanding self to standing
He will rise up from the ground.

Light Within a Snowflake

So beautiful the earth can be, so colorful and bright.
Such a precious gift we have, to see each lifting sight.
Every thing of beauty was made by Him above:
Does not every blade of grass give proof of his love?

I appreciate the beauty of the summer, spring, and fall.
When I see the wintertime, I think I love it most of all.
Perhaps ‘tis why I walk the hills when nature makes them glow.
I behold a miracle when I move through the snow.

I see it when it lightly falls, and when it dusts my path.
I travel through it, when days of storm can seem so full of wrath.
I deeply breathe, when breathing fills my lungs with chilly air.
The hills themselves are shining, each snowflake very fair.

Through the sparkling meadows, my footprints filled behind.
I gaze and gaze, and marvel, untold beauty grips my mind.
I walk through fields crafted by His loving, gentle hands.
I pause, and think, What right have I to make even one demand?

If He in all His wisdom, His glory, and His light.
Gives me the chance to look thereon, I have no need for spite.
Fear, or hate, or anger- none of these can measure up.
But faith, and love, and beauty; with these He fills my cup.

Many think they have the reason and the wisdom fit to say
Miracles do not occur, in this enlightened day.
I wish to shout about all the miracles that I see,
The very snow you walk upon is a miracle to me!

The sky, the clouds, trees and mountains, fish that swim in streams...
What among these could we create that were not merely dreams?
We ourselves are miracles
The more we live, we know
And that is why I love to see
The Light within the snow

One Rule

If every single human on the face of planet earth
Chose not to mock or to down play another person’s worth,
If everyone lived strictly by the priceless Golden Rule,
All would smile, few would frown, no one would feel a fool.
‘Impossible’ you say, ‘for there would surely still exist
All the little insults, bar a swiftly propelled fist.
Doors would slam and breaks still jam, the middle finger fly,
All for inconvenience, the bothersome little guy!’
But I would here submit that we don’t have to lose our cool.
Simply think our way to do and say and live the Golden Rule.
If such occurred I do believe a miracle would take place.
Beasts would cease to live and thrive within the human race.
And that would make our presidents and governors think twice.
About running for an office if we knew they were not nice.
“The lesser of two evils” would cease to be the voter’s motto.
And everyone would get a share when a person won the lotto.
A “Zion Society” would exist upon the earth, though improbable the word,
And friendship would abound in places that once were thought absurd!

Plan of Happiness

In the preexistence we were bodiless because
We were the intelligences organized before the world was.
We wanted to become like unto God,
To be able to be faithful, and hold to the rod.
In Moses three seven, it tells how we came around.
The Lord God formed man from the dust of the ground.
All were before created as spirit bodies first.
But that’s when fate took a turn for the worst.
Satan, thinking, “I will be like the Most High”
Led one third away with his deceitful lies.
Good versus bad, in heaven a war.
One third were cast out through heaven’s door.
Then we came down upon the earth.
Adam and Eve first given physical birth.
As Satan sought to destroy the agency of man,
Telling Eve to partake of the fruit, although banned.
She did, as did Adam, which brought about the Fall.
No longer were they allowed to breach Eden’s wall.
And with the Fall there came down a veil
Blinding spiritual eyes, a great cause to wail.
Now Adam and Eve were able to give birth.
The family was created for the first time on earth.
Everyone is related, because of Adam and Eve.
Mankind out of Adam and Eve were conceived.
Adam was a prophet, the first of them all.
Even today we can give our prophet a call.
With prophets came the temples, filling the world today.
They help us renew covenants, to prevent spiritual decay.
We had them in Biblical times long ago.
Very similar to today, as history will show.
Principles and ordinances in them are done.
Our sins and transgression we learn to shun.
Long after Adam, through Abraham’s seed,
Came Jesus Christ, on the cross did He bleed.
He, being our Savior, died for all men.
His atonement lets us into heaven once again.
Because of his sacrifice, and his resurrection,
We too will be resurrected after our life is done.
We’ll go to spirit prison or spirit paradise there,
Judging by our works, it’s really quite fair.
At last, Judgement Day, to which we will go.
There we will finally reap what we sow.
And if we have repented, and have done what’s right.
We will obtain immortality, and Eternal Life.

How It Feels

How fragile any life can be,
How great a person’s soul.
How hard to fully comprehend one’s worth when one is whole.
I couldn’t allow myself to take
Another’s heart so grand.
I felt I held eternity in my shaking mortal hands!
Everything that the Father has
All that He has made,
Galaxies- eternities upon His power are stayed.
All of these He made for us!
Kept each moment by His power,
We are God’s own treasure every moment of every hour.
I feel when we are talking
Or when we’re holding hands
That I’m holding priceless treasure I cannot comprehend.
That feeling terrifies me,
Yet fills me with such wonder
That I am counted worthy such a feeling to be under…

Heart of All Hearts

As you look over my body, this skin, this face,
What you could see cannot be erased.
You see nothing except what is shown skin deep.
Appearance is your forte, it is all that you keep.
You are so blind, so ignorant, so wrong.
You couldn’t begin to guess the nature of my soul’s song.
The reason? - you look only with the naked eye.
The colors of my soul would be enough to make you cry.
The Greatest of all took every human’s pain,
To help them become great, it was all for their gain.
To die by the hands of those He would save
Was the only sacrifice that could conquer the grave.
I gave up my heart, with nothing to gain.
You ripped it apart, and mocked my pain.
I knew what would happen; I did it willingly.
There is still something greater that none will ever see.
It is too precious, to expose to sharp darts.
I call it, by name, my sacred heart of hearts.

Food

Food is a wonderful thing to eat.
It makes your tummy feel so sweet.
And if you are a-feeling down,
Just think of food and you won’t frown.
I believe Italian is the best.
Ravioli and the rest.
The spaghetti you eat will make you smile.
Pizza fills you for a while.
Next in line is breakfast food.
It puts you in a happy mood.
Toaster pastries taste so great
And smell so good, it’s hard to wait.
Waffles taste so very fine
And syrup makes them quite sublime.
Breakfast cakes have a great taste.
You eat it all and do not waste.
I think the very best thing to have
Is candy when you feel so bad.
Peanut butter, caramel, chocolate too.
If you have more, that is cool.
And then of course there is gourmet.
Stroganoff, noodles and sauce, they’re good any day.
Or you could have some Chili Chip Pie.
It’s so good, it’s for to die.
A camping specialty is cordon- bleu.
Chicken and bacon smothered in soup.
Succulent pieces of meat melting fast.
A savory treat you want to last.
Through it all, happiness in eating.
Food is the very best part of greeting.

Femme Fatale

She had that look, the look that stops all.
The cars crash, the lights stop, the towers fall.
Her eyes go narrow, and you shake to the bone.
Cold is your marrow, in terror you moan.
She rules the race with a fist of steel.
She drives the machine, both hands to the wheel.
An ability to kill and a look to control.
What she wants, she gets- her wish is your goal.
She speaks- your mind is controlled by the sound.
She walks- you are barred, no way to be found.
She breathes, and you find you cannot speak.
All power to her is shown rather weak.
Help me, you cry, as her feet step near.
Free me, you sigh, from my cold walls of fear.
Take me where no path can touch me with harm.
I am swept along, on your hot waves of charm.

The Odd One

In every state in the U.S., in almost all the world,
Many people have had their awesome reputations hurled.
That’s partly why everybody always goes with the flow.
They don’t want to get anyone to turn out their foe.

And that’s why, you see, there’s always a cool hip style.
If someone decides to dress right, they’re popular for a while.
And if some not-cool preppy says the right stuff,
Everyone is good to them and not in a huff.

You’ll find everyone will eventually compromise.
If their reputation’s at stake, they’ll avoid their demise.
It’s a noble brave one who defies the laws of tradition.
Looking for one who is weird, yet liked, would be quite a mission.

But though it’s a gigantic task, there still are a very few
Who do not base their lives on what others say and do.
These “Odd Ones” go their own way, are proud of what they are.
Because they are the exception, in life they will go far.

I am proud to say that an Odd One am I.
I can stay cool, when I get into a fry.
I try to do what no one else has already done.
I go against tradition, and still it’s really fun.

I guess you could say that in this I have experience.
I urge you to be an Odd One like me, from this time hence.
Do everything the way you want, and have your own kind of fun.
If someone asks who you are, tell them you are an Odd One.

No Fear

Falling down, forever descending.
Freefalling always, completely unending.
Never, no never, does one reach the ground.
No feeling emotion, no sense of sound.
An action all-new, before never done.
Once to start, a perpetual run.
A ray is impossible, or so they say.
No thing with a start can always stay.
Forever to forever, an expanding sphere.
Constant bombardment of shock.
No Fear!

Reflection

Flowers and sunsets and breeze so light,
Freeing my soul as it bursts into flight.
Birds singing joyfully, as spring comes again.
Memories flowing for times way back when.
Shadows of friends who have gone long before.
Their friendship endures, now and evermore.
Good times that helped to end a fun day,
And gave glimpses of sunlight when all seemed gray.
Places visited in years gone by,
Sad times that bring tears and cause one to cry.
Times that bring smiles for experience gained.
Nature’s cold shower whenever it rained
Working together for one and for all,
Yes, for together we stand straight and tall.

Camping

Camping is the best way to go.
You hike up a trail and then camp in the snow.
It may seem that you don’t want to go.
I’m telling you now, if you don’t you’ll be low.
The first thing to do is to bring the right food.
Ravioli, steak, pastries, and bacon should do.
Add some pancakes and chocolate chips too.
Bring your griddle and up goes your mood.
The second on your list is how to make fire.
You want to cook and some warmth for desire.
Bring some white gas and lots of salt peter.
It’s like a humongous, gigantic heater.
Next thing you’ll need is all the essentials-
Pocketknife, pots and pans, and all the utensils.
Bring some toilet paper, it does more than one thing.
It burns and starts the fire, for your pots it cleans.
You should also bring snacks for the trail.
It’s good to bring trail mix, without it you’ll fail.
If you have sweet food, have plenty to spare.
‘Cause everyone will want some be sure to share.
A great thing to do is to bring the right clothes.
When it’s winter, bring socks for your toes.
Since camping truly is the way to go.
Bring long underwear and a mask for your nose.
A thing to remember is sleeping time.
A sleeping bag’s good, though it doesn’t rhyme.
You need a tent to block the snow so
Santa Clause will say, “Ho-Ho-Ho!
The last and final thing you need to know
Is how to carry it without a lot to tow
You better pack light if you want to go.
Make it like you want it you’ll be singing so.

Broken

Seventy five is what you said.
I believed you- now I lay weak in a bed.
Seventy five of one hundred would win.
I can’t even raise this hand, it’s so thin.
Look at the waste you have made of my soul.
This is not what you said, and not what you told.
Look at this body, now one- tenth as strong.
You said this was good, why were you wrong?
My parents paid thousands for me to get well.
Their lives they’d give, their lives they’d sell.
They put faith in you and for that they have paid.
They watch in despair as I slowly slip away.
You knew it would kill me, and you said this was right.
I’ve stopped trying to live, I’ve lost my will to fight.
Is this what you meant when you said I would heal?
I am moved in a wheelchair, others feed me my meals.
Did you know I would die when you saw me that day?
Did you know Dad was wasting all the money he paid?
Did you think of the tears you would cause my mother?
Her one wish was for me, her prayers for no other.
All the x- rays and tests, the pills and the meds
Have not kept your patients from living as dead.
They say you’re experts, yet what good have you done?
You break peoples’ lives- do you find that much fun?

What Am I

I am he who walks alone
I live on earth, my quest to roam
I do not die but make things rust
After me, people start to trust
I bind man with knowledge of me, they race against me in vain
Ones in me eventually cannot see
I also make it rain
It is by me deadlines are set; men go to jail if I can’t be met
I get kids in trouble for being late
Those who die have me to hate
I’m as a circle which never ends
I have carved in me lots of trends
I always go forward, leave men behind
I make things dull, sometimes shine
I’m represented by watches and clocks
A piece of me in each “tick-tock”
Everything through me will always pass
I sometimes go slow, sometimes go fast
And now I tell you what I am
I may not always chime
I govern the earth, its unknown king
I am known as time

Good Versus Evil

From the beginning of time until the end,
Good fight bad, some don’t comprehend.
King Arthur of old versus the bad ones,
The Chinese army against the Huns.

God the Father faces the devil,
Because Satan decided to rebel.
The Church of God to the anti-christ,
The cat and the owl hunt the good mice.

The good leaders in the world tend to be rare,
But the bad leaders, you see don’t well fare.
Religious leaders who teach for gain,
Principles of old are now in vain.

Maybe we one day will regain what was lost,
If such is to happen, it will be at great cost.
But great cost aside, it has to be now.
Many have tried, but I don’t know how.

Evil knights and sorcerers of old
Have turned into robbers who now are bold.
Instead of dragons we have murderers,
Pollution takes from earth what was hers.

In this world where neighbors aren’t friends,
Companions of late now start to contend.
Feelings of hate and contempt are strong,
We must change, it is so very wrong.