‘I am concerned for Janet, Rudy. And for Jim.’
Rudy stood in his customary place behind the front desk, puzzled and surprised.
‘I believed that they were doing quite well, sir. I was not aware that there was cause for concern.’
‘Do you know what is happening this very moment?’
‘I believe I do, sir. Janet has just disappeared by becoming one with the trees, and Jim has just begun his march with the battle clan.’
‘You know as well as I do that what happens in the ‘Word Club’, as we have chosen to call it, is real. The people are real, the creatures of the wild are real, and the forces at work throughout the inner- and outer- world of the Word Club are real.
‘Yes, sir, I do’.
‘You know, then, that the danger is also real. The risks, the possibilities- both wonderful and terrible- are real. While it is possible for one to create conceivably anything, it is a given that creatures, people, and inherent forces, once created, will think and act for themselves. Do you understand, Rudy?’
‘I do, sir.’
‘Both Janet and Jim are, I believe, under the impression that while they can be hurt here, they are not in any real danger- that they are virtually invulnerable in the Word Club. I know you have given them a warning or two, phrased pleasantly for their benefit, but they still seem to view the Word Club as their own little playground; an all-new jungle gym, built just yesterday for their personal amusement. How long has our little club been around, Rudy?’
‘For over two hundred thirty years, sir, under various names and guises.’
‘Precisely. Over two centuries of new ideas, all growing and expanding on top of one another, with nothing to hinder the growth. That is the amount of wildness we are dealing with. That is the amount Janet and Jim have unwittingly begun to open themselves to- Janet in particular.’
‘What can I do to help, sir?’
The Perpetuator nodded, once. ‘We need you to take up the role we once had you set aside. We need you to go in again, as one of them. We still count you as our foremost field agent. You will need every bit of your experience, every ounce of your savvy to guide them through the rest of this, their second experience in the Word Club. We need you to leave now, this very moment, if you would.’
‘As you wish, sir’.
His eyes shining, Rudy left his place behind the front desk and approached the opposing wall. A most curious circular picture hung there. Within the smooth golden frame, molten silver flowed, running in an endless whirlpool of glowing color. Never did a single drop of the liquid metal fall out of the golden frame. Rudy stood still, gazing steadily, unblinkingly. After a moment of this the whirlpool stilled, and Rudy beheld a group of broad-shouldered, hard-faced men marching down a hillside. Another moment, and they were out of sight, the sound of their marching feet gradually fading away.
Still he gazed, allowing himself to take in the now-quiet scene. All seemed still at the top of the hill, among the trees. Rudy allowed his eyes to lose their focus, everything becoming blurred. For a moment longer everything was still, and then he caught it- movement just at the edge of his vision. He could not have said whether it was inside or outside the frame, for he did not turn to look; instead, he stayed as he was, in the same relaxed state. Steadily, the entire hidden scene began to unfold before him, and he saw where Janet now was.
She was not alone.
* * * * * * * * * * *
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
Choice
Once again total war fully fills me within
Much more and I feel I will die.
I search for some window, no matter how small
I can’t breathe, I can’t sweat, I can’t cry!
What path can I take to find my release?
I have not the power to Mend
…One by one, angels beautiful come to my side
A most bittersweet chance to lend.
Meetings past I recall, they were not in this guise-
I merely saw damsels sublime.
Now I hear their thoughts, a heart- wrenching choice
They are here, to tell me, is mine.
I can keep on my path, continue this course-
Endure my own thoughts till I’m through,
Or I can be altered, no longer myself
Unable to grow, always new.
What a terrible choice! Forever a babe-
Never growing, never thinking- no pain.
Or always growing, and ever hurting,
Fearing that I’ll go insane!
If I stay it may kill me, but my life will be real
If I leave, there’s no chance I’ll return…
"There are those who will need you, should you choose to stay;
Vital lessons you’ll help them to learn."
I cannot choose! I wish for both!
I want to grow out my heart.
I am eager to love, yet I feel deep inside
That so doing will tear me apart!
Paralyzed to inaction- they make my choice:
Gathering linen shining white,
Slowly, gently, they wrap me within
Until I am engulfed by the light.
Just before I am gone they whisper
"Someday you again may live
When you can take the wondrous love within
And every part of it give…"
Much more and I feel I will die.
I search for some window, no matter how small
I can’t breathe, I can’t sweat, I can’t cry!
What path can I take to find my release?
I have not the power to Mend
…One by one, angels beautiful come to my side
A most bittersweet chance to lend.
Meetings past I recall, they were not in this guise-
I merely saw damsels sublime.
Now I hear their thoughts, a heart- wrenching choice
They are here, to tell me, is mine.
I can keep on my path, continue this course-
Endure my own thoughts till I’m through,
Or I can be altered, no longer myself
Unable to grow, always new.
What a terrible choice! Forever a babe-
Never growing, never thinking- no pain.
Or always growing, and ever hurting,
Fearing that I’ll go insane!
If I stay it may kill me, but my life will be real
If I leave, there’s no chance I’ll return…
"There are those who will need you, should you choose to stay;
Vital lessons you’ll help them to learn."
I cannot choose! I wish for both!
I want to grow out my heart.
I am eager to love, yet I feel deep inside
That so doing will tear me apart!
Paralyzed to inaction- they make my choice:
Gathering linen shining white,
Slowly, gently, they wrap me within
Until I am engulfed by the light.
Just before I am gone they whisper
"Someday you again may live
When you can take the wondrous love within
And every part of it give…"
Yes
‘Yes,’ she says to me.
‘You have done great things.
You have endured trials, troubles,
And tribulations too.
You have also made many mistakes,
Though you have tried to rectify them
As best you could.
After it is all said and done,
What do you want now,
At the end of it all?’
‘I just want it over,’
I say as the tears spill
Down my cheeks.
‘Please, can’t it be over?’
‘It is not for me to say.
It is for God to decide
When to take you Home.
You will have to wait upon Him.’
‘I have been waiting for so long already.
My heart is breaking. I feel that I cannot
Bear this much longer before I break altogether.’
‘Perhaps that is what he is waiting for:
A broken heart and a contrite spirit.’
‘It hurts,’ I say to her.
‘It hurts so much to live.
I don’t understand why
I must go through this.’
‘I do not know either,’
She replies somewhat sadly.
‘I do know that you just have to keep going,
No matter what, and you will win the prize.’
‘Please,’ I cry. ‘Will you pray with me?’
‘I have been praying with and for you all along.
I will pray with you now, as well.’
‘You have done great things.
You have endured trials, troubles,
And tribulations too.
You have also made many mistakes,
Though you have tried to rectify them
As best you could.
After it is all said and done,
What do you want now,
At the end of it all?’
‘I just want it over,’
I say as the tears spill
Down my cheeks.
‘Please, can’t it be over?’
‘It is not for me to say.
It is for God to decide
When to take you Home.
You will have to wait upon Him.’
‘I have been waiting for so long already.
My heart is breaking. I feel that I cannot
Bear this much longer before I break altogether.’
‘Perhaps that is what he is waiting for:
A broken heart and a contrite spirit.’
‘It hurts,’ I say to her.
‘It hurts so much to live.
I don’t understand why
I must go through this.’
‘I do not know either,’
She replies somewhat sadly.
‘I do know that you just have to keep going,
No matter what, and you will win the prize.’
‘Please,’ I cry. ‘Will you pray with me?’
‘I have been praying with and for you all along.
I will pray with you now, as well.’
A Broken Heart
‘Yes,’ she says to me.
‘You have done great things.
You have endured trials, troubles,
And tribulations too.
You have also made many mistakes,
Though you have tried to rectify them
As best you could.
After it is all said and done,
What do you want now,
At the end of it all?’
‘I just want it over,’
I say as the tears spill
Down my cheeks.
‘Please, can’t it be over?’
‘It is not for me to say.
It is for God to decide
When to take you Home.
You will have to wait upon Him.’
‘I have been waiting for so long already.
My heart is breaking. I feel that I cannot
Bear this much longer before I break altogether.’
‘Perhaps that is what He is waiting for:
A broken heart and a contrite spirit.’
‘It is always ‘perhaps,’ isn’t it?
I never seem to know for sure.
I need to know how much longer
I must stay here.’
‘And what will you do once you know?’
‘If it is very soon, I shall cry in relief.
If it is not, I shall crumble in despair.
Nothing else seems to matter anymore.’
‘You must not give up hope, Adam!
Have there not been many signs
That your time is soon?
Have there not been many signs
Telling you that you don’t need to worry?’
‘My faith, perhaps, is not what it needs to be.
I have stumbled greatly. Now I doubt myself.’
‘Trust in God,’ she says to me. ‘He will make
Up the difference where you lack.’
‘I am trying to do so,’ I reply.
‘We are waiting for you when you are done.
Just keep trying for a little longer, and then
We shall be there to get you Home.’
‘Home,’ I sigh. ‘It is nearly impossible to wait.’
‘You have done great things.
You have endured trials, troubles,
And tribulations too.
You have also made many mistakes,
Though you have tried to rectify them
As best you could.
After it is all said and done,
What do you want now,
At the end of it all?’
‘I just want it over,’
I say as the tears spill
Down my cheeks.
‘Please, can’t it be over?’
‘It is not for me to say.
It is for God to decide
When to take you Home.
You will have to wait upon Him.’
‘I have been waiting for so long already.
My heart is breaking. I feel that I cannot
Bear this much longer before I break altogether.’
‘Perhaps that is what He is waiting for:
A broken heart and a contrite spirit.’
‘It is always ‘perhaps,’ isn’t it?
I never seem to know for sure.
I need to know how much longer
I must stay here.’
‘And what will you do once you know?’
‘If it is very soon, I shall cry in relief.
If it is not, I shall crumble in despair.
Nothing else seems to matter anymore.’
‘You must not give up hope, Adam!
Have there not been many signs
That your time is soon?
Have there not been many signs
Telling you that you don’t need to worry?’
‘My faith, perhaps, is not what it needs to be.
I have stumbled greatly. Now I doubt myself.’
‘Trust in God,’ she says to me. ‘He will make
Up the difference where you lack.’
‘I am trying to do so,’ I reply.
‘We are waiting for you when you are done.
Just keep trying for a little longer, and then
We shall be there to get you Home.’
‘Home,’ I sigh. ‘It is nearly impossible to wait.’
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
Word Club Part Two
Jim stared a moment longer at the computer screen, then sat back and rubbed his eyes.
‘Ben, do you want anything? I need a break.’
‘I wouldn’t say no to a couple glazed, Jim. Thanks.’
‘Alright.’
Jim made his way out of his cubicle, heading toward the coffee table and thinking.
I haven’t been able to focus on much of anything today. The smallest noise seemed to distract him lately. It had been growing all week, and today he could scarcely think straight.
Jim sighed. It was time to rectify the situation.
I’ll call Janet at lunch. She’s been wanting to go back since the moment we left.
‘Here you go, Ben. Enjoy.’
‘Oh boy. Just what I needed. Thanks, Jim.’
‘No problem.’
I hope we don’t have a disease or something. Barely a week past and it’s all either of us can think about.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
The bell jingled as the door opened.
‘Is that new?’ Jim wondered idly.
‘It wasn’t here last week,’ Janet replied.
They walked toward the front desk.
Rudy smiled brightly. ‘Welcome back to the Word Club, sir, madam. Would you like anything before you begin?’
‘I think we’re ready as is, Rudy. Thanks all the same, though.’
‘In that case, I will direct your attention to the large vault door set in the right hand wall just down the hallway behind me.’
‘A vault door, Rudy?’
‘Yes sir. Do you see it there?’
‘I do see it, yes.’
‘As with all things in this world we live in, the Word Club is in a state of constant change. Thus, the method of entering the inner world of the Word Club is also one of constant change.’
Jim and Janet both nodded.
‘I understand.’
‘That makes sense, Rudy.’
‘In order for you to enter the inner Word Club on your visit today, you will require both the practical application of the intellect you possess, and the unrestrained allowance of your intuition. It is these tools that allow true creativity to flow. Are you ready?’
‘Yes,’ they said together.
‘Then I will ask you to approach that vault door.’
Jim and Janet walked up to the doorframe.
‘And now it is up to you to find your way through it.’
They looked into each others eyes for a moment, and then smiled. Janet put her ear and her hand to the vault door. Jim began to turn the dial slowly.
‘Keep going, keep going…stop! Now back the other way, slowly… stop! Now to the right again…there!’ Janet paused, as though puzzled. ‘This has to be the strangest vault system ever made. I think we need to push the dial in.’
Jim shrugged. He pushed on the dial, and it began to recede into the door. Jim kept pushing, until there was a faint click, and then a great whoosh as the door swung inward away from them, into the inner Word Club.
For a moment both Janet and Jim simply stood in the doorway, breathing in the freshness of the air, their hearts becoming light with relief.
‘That was the longest week of my life, I think,’ Jim said, almost gasping the words.
‘I told you we needed to come back,’ Janet smiled.
‘You were right. I can breathe freely again.’
‘We can breathe freely again,’
‘Yes, we.’
Jim gently took her face in his hands. ‘Yes,’ he repeated. ‘You have freed us again, dear lady. For so great a gift, I thank you.’
After a moment Janet gently ended the kiss. ‘Come, my love. Let us explore this wondrous world once more!’
And so they lost themselves in the glorious wild. Together they ran through endless fields, climbed the highest mountains, braved the thickest jungles, and swam the deepest rivers. Jim defended Janet from the wild animals that roamed the land. He learned to fight the bear, the wolf, and the mountain lion. Janet learned the lore of the plants, the grass and the trees, for at times Jim lay close to death after his battles, and Janet spent many days in nursing her fallen warrior back to health.
In their wanderings, they saw exotic creatures, strange beasts, and beautiful birds. It was a world filled with colors and tastes and smells that were new to them, and they eagerly immersed themselves in it.
They began to see other humans, far in the distance and out of earshot. Jim was certain they were seen, though they were not approached. But one day they came to a new change. Janet sensed it in the air when she awoke, and quickly she went to Jim and shook him. Jim opened his eyes.
‘What is it, my lady?’
‘My love, warriors approach. I feel their anger and desire for battle. They come for you.’
‘I will defend you, lady, as I have done before.’
‘They wish you to fight for them, not against them.’
Jim could see them now, sixty warriors cresting a near hill to the south. Within his heart, he felt the desire to fight. Jim looked in Janet’s hazel eyes. ‘I do not wish to leave you, my lady. Bid me stay and I will stay.’
Janet shook her head. ‘It is not for me to stay you, my love. I bid you go. I will be near.’
‘How can I go, lady, when my heart lies with you?’
‘I will always be near. It is in you to fight. Fight, but fight for love. Fight for love, and you will be stronger, and swifter, your energy greater, your battle-heart fiercer. Be strong, my love.’
Insistently, honey lips pressed against his own. Then Janet seemed to fade. The trees began to appear through her skin; Jim could see the faint outlines of the leaves behind her, the grass through the skin of her ankles, the long-stemmed flowers swaying gently in the breeze. First they were merely hints, and then strong outlines, and finally her body was all but gone, all but her eyes, still staring into his own. For a moment they gazed, then they, too, were gone as the war band began their ascent up the hill. They halted at the crest. Only the war chieftain walked further, who came within ten feet of where Jim stood.
He looked at Jim warily for a moment, then spoke. ‘We need your help, wild one. Our enemy will long be at our hearth-doors this season. You will be one with us. One in name, one in heart, one in anger, one in spirit, one in strength, one in power, one in war. Fight with us!’
‘I will fight with you.’
‘Ben, do you want anything? I need a break.’
‘I wouldn’t say no to a couple glazed, Jim. Thanks.’
‘Alright.’
Jim made his way out of his cubicle, heading toward the coffee table and thinking.
I haven’t been able to focus on much of anything today. The smallest noise seemed to distract him lately. It had been growing all week, and today he could scarcely think straight.
Jim sighed. It was time to rectify the situation.
I’ll call Janet at lunch. She’s been wanting to go back since the moment we left.
‘Here you go, Ben. Enjoy.’
‘Oh boy. Just what I needed. Thanks, Jim.’
‘No problem.’
I hope we don’t have a disease or something. Barely a week past and it’s all either of us can think about.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
The bell jingled as the door opened.
‘Is that new?’ Jim wondered idly.
‘It wasn’t here last week,’ Janet replied.
They walked toward the front desk.
Rudy smiled brightly. ‘Welcome back to the Word Club, sir, madam. Would you like anything before you begin?’
‘I think we’re ready as is, Rudy. Thanks all the same, though.’
‘In that case, I will direct your attention to the large vault door set in the right hand wall just down the hallway behind me.’
‘A vault door, Rudy?’
‘Yes sir. Do you see it there?’
‘I do see it, yes.’
‘As with all things in this world we live in, the Word Club is in a state of constant change. Thus, the method of entering the inner world of the Word Club is also one of constant change.’
Jim and Janet both nodded.
‘I understand.’
‘That makes sense, Rudy.’
‘In order for you to enter the inner Word Club on your visit today, you will require both the practical application of the intellect you possess, and the unrestrained allowance of your intuition. It is these tools that allow true creativity to flow. Are you ready?’
‘Yes,’ they said together.
‘Then I will ask you to approach that vault door.’
Jim and Janet walked up to the doorframe.
‘And now it is up to you to find your way through it.’
They looked into each others eyes for a moment, and then smiled. Janet put her ear and her hand to the vault door. Jim began to turn the dial slowly.
‘Keep going, keep going…stop! Now back the other way, slowly… stop! Now to the right again…there!’ Janet paused, as though puzzled. ‘This has to be the strangest vault system ever made. I think we need to push the dial in.’
Jim shrugged. He pushed on the dial, and it began to recede into the door. Jim kept pushing, until there was a faint click, and then a great whoosh as the door swung inward away from them, into the inner Word Club.
For a moment both Janet and Jim simply stood in the doorway, breathing in the freshness of the air, their hearts becoming light with relief.
‘That was the longest week of my life, I think,’ Jim said, almost gasping the words.
‘I told you we needed to come back,’ Janet smiled.
‘You were right. I can breathe freely again.’
‘We can breathe freely again,’
‘Yes, we.’
Jim gently took her face in his hands. ‘Yes,’ he repeated. ‘You have freed us again, dear lady. For so great a gift, I thank you.’
After a moment Janet gently ended the kiss. ‘Come, my love. Let us explore this wondrous world once more!’
And so they lost themselves in the glorious wild. Together they ran through endless fields, climbed the highest mountains, braved the thickest jungles, and swam the deepest rivers. Jim defended Janet from the wild animals that roamed the land. He learned to fight the bear, the wolf, and the mountain lion. Janet learned the lore of the plants, the grass and the trees, for at times Jim lay close to death after his battles, and Janet spent many days in nursing her fallen warrior back to health.
In their wanderings, they saw exotic creatures, strange beasts, and beautiful birds. It was a world filled with colors and tastes and smells that were new to them, and they eagerly immersed themselves in it.
They began to see other humans, far in the distance and out of earshot. Jim was certain they were seen, though they were not approached. But one day they came to a new change. Janet sensed it in the air when she awoke, and quickly she went to Jim and shook him. Jim opened his eyes.
‘What is it, my lady?’
‘My love, warriors approach. I feel their anger and desire for battle. They come for you.’
‘I will defend you, lady, as I have done before.’
‘They wish you to fight for them, not against them.’
Jim could see them now, sixty warriors cresting a near hill to the south. Within his heart, he felt the desire to fight. Jim looked in Janet’s hazel eyes. ‘I do not wish to leave you, my lady. Bid me stay and I will stay.’
Janet shook her head. ‘It is not for me to stay you, my love. I bid you go. I will be near.’
‘How can I go, lady, when my heart lies with you?’
‘I will always be near. It is in you to fight. Fight, but fight for love. Fight for love, and you will be stronger, and swifter, your energy greater, your battle-heart fiercer. Be strong, my love.’
Insistently, honey lips pressed against his own. Then Janet seemed to fade. The trees began to appear through her skin; Jim could see the faint outlines of the leaves behind her, the grass through the skin of her ankles, the long-stemmed flowers swaying gently in the breeze. First they were merely hints, and then strong outlines, and finally her body was all but gone, all but her eyes, still staring into his own. For a moment they gazed, then they, too, were gone as the war band began their ascent up the hill. They halted at the crest. Only the war chieftain walked further, who came within ten feet of where Jim stood.
He looked at Jim warily for a moment, then spoke. ‘We need your help, wild one. Our enemy will long be at our hearth-doors this season. You will be one with us. One in name, one in heart, one in anger, one in spirit, one in strength, one in power, one in war. Fight with us!’
‘I will fight with you.’
Monday, March 7, 2011
Untitled
Here I stand, ready, the cliff’s edge before my feet.
In my hands are the charred remains, the book of my heart.
Below are the cities wherein I have lived, prisoner in them all.
I am through; I will give the ghost of my love to the world
And then, I will give my soul
Slowly, I run the book, mere disconnected, blackened sheets in my hands
Pieces begin to fall. Tears fall with them; it always hurts to share myself.
In my hands are the charred remains, the book of my heart.
Below are the cities wherein I have lived, prisoner in them all.
I am through; I will give the ghost of my love to the world
And then, I will give my soul
Slowly, I run the book, mere disconnected, blackened sheets in my hands
Pieces begin to fall. Tears fall with them; it always hurts to share myself.
Word Club
The Word Club, Part One
Jim peered up at the neon sign in puzzlement.
‘Janet honey, are you sure this is the right place?’
Janet looked at him askance. ‘Of course I’m sure. I entered ‘Breeding ground for the world’s most creative minds’ on the web, and this was top of the list. “A 24/7 symposium for all topics, genres, perspectives, persuasions, opinions, questions and answers relating to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness, as interpreted by any patrons past, present, and future.’”
‘Past, present, and future? How can they possibly-’
‘If we’re going to try this, Jim, we have to take it on their terms.’
‘They? Who’s ‘they?’’
‘The creators of this place. They refer to themselves as The Perpetuators. Not the most engaging title, I admit.’
‘Sounds a bit sophomoric to me.’
‘Like I said, we have to take it on their terms.’
‘Rather broad terms, I should think,’ Jim shrugged. ‘Ah well. Let’s go for it.’
The door swung smoothly in at Jim’s push.
‘Good evening, sir. Good evening, madam. My name is Rudy. Welcome to The Word Club, where every creative intelligence is welcome. While you are here, it will be necessary for you to abide by our rulebook.’
That’s very-
‘Blunt, sir. I realize it is, but it is imperative for your personal well-being that you do not cross the invisible threshold that runs throughout this establishment. I will now impart the rulebook to you.’
Did he just read my mind?
‘Section One, Subsection One, Regulations, Chapter One, Paragraph One, Rule One. “No patron or patrons will do anything, say anything, or create anything that has the potential to limit the creative juices in themselves and/ or other patrons with whom they may interact while within the perimeter of this, The Word Club.” That is the short version, sir, madam. The remainder of the Rulebook merely expounds upon the particulars which stem from the first rule. Should you be concerned that you will have surrendered your rights by agreeing to this rule, you are welcome to read over the entire rulebook when it is not in use.’ Rudy gestured to a dimly-lit table, set in an alcove to the couple’s right. A well dressed, balding man sat there, peering intently at the left page of what seemed to be an immense volume; so immense, that neither Janet nor Jim could see the end of it.
‘Is that a state senator? Our state senator?’ Jim asked, bewildered.
‘He doesn’t look very happy, does he? Why would the freedom to be creative make him unhappy?’
‘If I were to guess, madam, I would say that he is trying to find a loophole, by which he hopes to find plausible cause to shut down our little club here.’
‘Shut it down? But why?’
Rudy smiled amiably. ‘Doubtless that will become clear to you the more you visit and the longer you stay. If the first rule is sufficient for you, then, I direct your attention to the little white door at the end of the hall directly behind me. Once you find a way through that door, you are considered in complete harmony with the energies which fuel the creative spirit, which in turn fuels our entire operation.’
Operation?
‘Operation, process, endeavor, journey, and economy are some of the interchangeable terms. Each was, is, and will always be true.’
‘How are you reading my mind?’
‘Again, sir, that will become clear to you the more you visit and the longer you stay.’
Janet tugged gently on Jim’s arm. Jim gave a resigned sigh, and allowed himself to be steered down the hall to the little white door.
‘There’s no doorknob, Jim.’
Jim pushed. The little white door would not budge.
‘I think you were right, Janet. We’ll have to take it on their terms.’
They retreated a few steps.
‘Mmm. So what do we do?’
‘Rudy said ‘in complete harmony with the energies that fuel the creative spirit.’ I suppose the more creative we allow ourselves to be, the closer we come to complete harmony.’
Janet’s eyes seemed to lose their focus as she looked at him.
Jim was still musing on what it would take to be completely creative.
‘All creative geniuses, the ones whose creativity changes the world, believe that anything is possible, that our only limits are those we give ourselves, and that the way to succeed is thus to remove all our limitations.’
‘Jim! That’s it!’
‘We can do anything.’
‘So there are no real barriers!’
‘Which means that there is no door!’
An intense wave of euphoria swept over them. Hand in hand, they walked quickly to the door, kept walking, and passed through it as though it wasn’t there.
‘Because it isn’t,’ Janet smiled.
‘You’re reading my mind,’ Jim smiled back.
‘I like this place already.’
They both turned to look at the Word Club.
‘Whoa…’ Jim breathed.
Janet was momentarily speechless.
Before them lay an expanding panorama. Grass, flowers, and trees of all kinds grew rapidly before their eyes. Plains and mountains, plateaus and canyons, mighty rivers and beautiful streams as far as they could see.
And we can see as far as we want to, Jim.
Yes, and in as much detail as we want to!
Jim shook his head, struck by a thought. This is The Word Club?
Yes, sir. This is a club where words come alive.
Rudy? Is that you?
Yes, sir. I am part of the Word Club, after all.
Jim peered up at the neon sign in puzzlement.
‘Janet honey, are you sure this is the right place?’
Janet looked at him askance. ‘Of course I’m sure. I entered ‘Breeding ground for the world’s most creative minds’ on the web, and this was top of the list. “A 24/7 symposium for all topics, genres, perspectives, persuasions, opinions, questions and answers relating to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness, as interpreted by any patrons past, present, and future.’”
‘Past, present, and future? How can they possibly-’
‘If we’re going to try this, Jim, we have to take it on their terms.’
‘They? Who’s ‘they?’’
‘The creators of this place. They refer to themselves as The Perpetuators. Not the most engaging title, I admit.’
‘Sounds a bit sophomoric to me.’
‘Like I said, we have to take it on their terms.’
‘Rather broad terms, I should think,’ Jim shrugged. ‘Ah well. Let’s go for it.’
The door swung smoothly in at Jim’s push.
‘Good evening, sir. Good evening, madam. My name is Rudy. Welcome to The Word Club, where every creative intelligence is welcome. While you are here, it will be necessary for you to abide by our rulebook.’
That’s very-
‘Blunt, sir. I realize it is, but it is imperative for your personal well-being that you do not cross the invisible threshold that runs throughout this establishment. I will now impart the rulebook to you.’
Did he just read my mind?
‘Section One, Subsection One, Regulations, Chapter One, Paragraph One, Rule One. “No patron or patrons will do anything, say anything, or create anything that has the potential to limit the creative juices in themselves and/ or other patrons with whom they may interact while within the perimeter of this, The Word Club.” That is the short version, sir, madam. The remainder of the Rulebook merely expounds upon the particulars which stem from the first rule. Should you be concerned that you will have surrendered your rights by agreeing to this rule, you are welcome to read over the entire rulebook when it is not in use.’ Rudy gestured to a dimly-lit table, set in an alcove to the couple’s right. A well dressed, balding man sat there, peering intently at the left page of what seemed to be an immense volume; so immense, that neither Janet nor Jim could see the end of it.
‘Is that a state senator? Our state senator?’ Jim asked, bewildered.
‘He doesn’t look very happy, does he? Why would the freedom to be creative make him unhappy?’
‘If I were to guess, madam, I would say that he is trying to find a loophole, by which he hopes to find plausible cause to shut down our little club here.’
‘Shut it down? But why?’
Rudy smiled amiably. ‘Doubtless that will become clear to you the more you visit and the longer you stay. If the first rule is sufficient for you, then, I direct your attention to the little white door at the end of the hall directly behind me. Once you find a way through that door, you are considered in complete harmony with the energies which fuel the creative spirit, which in turn fuels our entire operation.’
Operation?
‘Operation, process, endeavor, journey, and economy are some of the interchangeable terms. Each was, is, and will always be true.’
‘How are you reading my mind?’
‘Again, sir, that will become clear to you the more you visit and the longer you stay.’
Janet tugged gently on Jim’s arm. Jim gave a resigned sigh, and allowed himself to be steered down the hall to the little white door.
‘There’s no doorknob, Jim.’
Jim pushed. The little white door would not budge.
‘I think you were right, Janet. We’ll have to take it on their terms.’
They retreated a few steps.
‘Mmm. So what do we do?’
‘Rudy said ‘in complete harmony with the energies that fuel the creative spirit.’ I suppose the more creative we allow ourselves to be, the closer we come to complete harmony.’
Janet’s eyes seemed to lose their focus as she looked at him.
Jim was still musing on what it would take to be completely creative.
‘All creative geniuses, the ones whose creativity changes the world, believe that anything is possible, that our only limits are those we give ourselves, and that the way to succeed is thus to remove all our limitations.’
‘Jim! That’s it!’
‘We can do anything.’
‘So there are no real barriers!’
‘Which means that there is no door!’
An intense wave of euphoria swept over them. Hand in hand, they walked quickly to the door, kept walking, and passed through it as though it wasn’t there.
‘Because it isn’t,’ Janet smiled.
‘You’re reading my mind,’ Jim smiled back.
‘I like this place already.’
They both turned to look at the Word Club.
‘Whoa…’ Jim breathed.
Janet was momentarily speechless.
Before them lay an expanding panorama. Grass, flowers, and trees of all kinds grew rapidly before their eyes. Plains and mountains, plateaus and canyons, mighty rivers and beautiful streams as far as they could see.
And we can see as far as we want to, Jim.
Yes, and in as much detail as we want to!
Jim shook his head, struck by a thought. This is The Word Club?
Yes, sir. This is a club where words come alive.
Rudy? Is that you?
Yes, sir. I am part of the Word Club, after all.
8:06 PM
Miracles bursting before One Poet's eyes. She has my Lily's Hazel Eyes; those eyes that shined like diamond's long ago...
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
Betwixt Light and Dark: My War and the Battalions I Face
*Read by the song-
The Final Countdown by Europe
The desert valley lay peaceful beneath a cloud-swept sky. To the east and west, the canyon walls loomed steep and high, their smooth slopes too sheer for any but the most fearless horse master to descend. To the south, the waves of the blue-green sea tossed themselves high; crashing into the cliffs that barred their way. To the north, far off in the distance, a travelling warrior could glimpse great mountains if his gaze were piercing, unclouded, and keen. Few warriors had such a gaze, for though many roamed in these areas of the wild, alone or with his or her war band, there had never yet a rumor spread of a battler with the name of Warrior- seer. Days when such souls had dwelt in this land were long past.
Tales were told of the deeds the Warrior- seers had done in those ages. There were many of the old men who held the younger generations captive with their stories of estranged lovers brought together again after years apart. Travelling warrior scholars regaled their spell-bound listeners with tales of entire mountain ranges brought into being with a single word spoken, of oceans and rivers that ceased to flow simply to allow a seer to pass, of days that lasted longer than their allotted two dozen hours, days when the sun stood still. Days when the battles fought therein found the fighters on both sides lying on their faces, too exhausted and faint from the blood they had lost, because of a day when the daylight never waned. Days when entire villages were laid low by fierce storms of a fury that had never been seen before. Days when every law that dictated the ways of Lady Nature was disobeyed.
Though the Warrior- seers were no longer to be found, the times were such that they were in the forefront of the minds of all people. War bands roamed freely across the land. Those who dared to settle in one place and build a village did so with the fragile hope that a war band would not come across they and their kinsfolk; the only hope free people had of surviving such encounters was their acceptance into the band and their own fighting savvy; if they could defeat the war band’s fiercest warrior in one on one combat, they and their kinsfolk were made part of the band. They were required to abandon their village, their traditions, their trades, and their dreams, to fight for the war band against every other, with their every breath. The idea of family, of brother and sister, mother and daughter, father and son, of cousins and uncles and aunts and other kinsfolk, was severed the moment a soul entered their band. From that moment on, a soul, whether male or female, was given to the unrestrained bloodshed of his or her enemy. The old and feeble did not survive long once they were made one of the band. If they were fortunate, they passed into the void within a week, the toils and struggles of the band overcoming their minimal strength. Their bodies were left unburied, their remains left victim to Lady Nature and the beasts that roamed the land.
The young were drawn immediately into conflict, those who were already part of the band teaching them the art of war from the moment of entry. Regardless of age, children were given the harsh tools of battle. The thick leather clothing, the armored helms, breastplates, leg and arm shields, were thrust before their impressionable young eyes. Metals of all kinds composed the armor they chose from. Steel, aluminum, tin, bronze, copper, silver, gold, nickel, titanium. The weapons arrayed before them likewise were of every metal imaginable; swords both curved or straight, spears short or long, maces with metal-spiked balls swung on chains or with heavy heads set on a solid shaft. The children were taught in the most practical and realistic setting available: in mortal combat with each other. The gentle toys and games enjoyed in the villages they left behind were replaced by the weapons and battles their war band gave to them in the stead of what they had known before. Though free people still lived in numerous areas and had many places of retreat and resort, each of them could feel the proverbial walls of eternal war closing in upon them.
Many of the free people, to survive in a world that was becoming more and more defined by war, bloodshed, bondage, and death, formed travelling villages; free people learned by the harsh realities of nomad life how to defend themselves against the war bands. Every member of the families and kinships that made up their people were bound together by necessity, by the ties of common blood, by the love between each other, by their hatred of the bloodthirsty animals that the members of the war bands became, and most importantly by the kidnapping of their precious children. Fear of the war bands, which in the beginning of their formation had caused people of the free world to flee, to hide, and to pray to their gods for deliverance, was changed almost overnight once free people headed out onto the trail they would make by the pounding of their own feet. Those feet, already working together in the villages at their back, were made one by the rigors of the wild land they embraced.
When a free people met a war band upon the trail, the most bitter, bloody, and decimating conflict took place. Free fighters freely bled, giving no quarter to the members of the war band. Those of the band, equal to the free fighters in battle and more powerful in their darkness and weaponry, sought to destroy them; dividing their numbers by their own, pitting their dark children against the home- bred, sun- taught youth of the free fighters, the war bands inevitably prevailed in such conflicts. They did not, however, succeed in their purpose of integrating the surviving free fighters into their band, for no free fighter ever survived. A free fighter would never surrender; every last one fought to his or her death. Because of this choice of the free fighters, the war band was destroyed at its heart. No dark warrior could remain with others of his or her kind after being pierced by the light that dwelt in a free fighter’s indomitable heart.
Free people everywhere knew in their souls that they were standing on the cusp of the most terrible battle that they and their kin and every free fighter everywhere would face.
The battle for the preservation of their right to choose whether or not they would take another breath.
. . . . . . . . . .
It has been two centuries and one half since the time that I walked among the sons and daughters of Man. I have seen births and deaths innumerable. I have seen the hearts of mothers break, and the strength of fathers fail. I have seen sons thrust out as innocent thieves from the place they called home, to seek humble shelter among those few they knew out in the cold world. I have seen daughters unwittingly abused because of the lack of understanding their abusers had of who they were: precious daughters of the God above their cursed heads. My own Brothers have fled this land, for they have lost their hope that this wretched world can yet be saved from the chains that bind it fast; chains whose ending lies in the hand of him who is the enemy of all of God’s children. Those who yet serve the light in this area of the earth are vastly outnumbered by our enemy’s
adopted children, children who once belonged to our dwindling ranks. Children whose darkening souls are being taught by our enemy to hate the light that gave them birth.
I myself am one of them. The darkness in my soul is deeper than that of any other man; the abuse I have received at others’ hands and dealt back again is harsher and more heartless than the abuse suffered by daughters of God upon this earth. The light that I have known is brighter than the noonday sun; I can no longer gaze upon it and receive no harm as I once did. My eyes are no longer the pure oracles they once were. I have embraced the light and turned and walked away more times than an immortal mind such as my own can recall. I have been immersed in God’s light and buried beneath the enemy’s dark chains. I cannot die unless I so choose, and yet the endless stretches of time before my eyes, eyes that are both piercing, unclouded, and keen, hold no answers for me of what I should do. I cannot choose between light and dark, for both hold priceless treasures for me. Both make up a vital, irrevocable half of whom and what I am. I do not see evil in the darkness; I see the desire of God’s children to experience the wonders of this world in all their unshielded, unfiltered, natural, breathtaking, soul shaking, brutally honest splendor.
I see heaven’s light in my enemy’s darkness. I cannot choose between them, for they have become one and the same.
Here I sit, in the center of my wind swept valley, canyon walls before and behind. The sea is far away to my left; its waves I have sailed, its winds and storms I have survived, its ebbs and flows I have committed to my memory. I am caught at the center of them all.
Hills and vales, small mountains and great mountains and razor sharp peaks I see in the far distance to my right. No sweet singing birds fly overhead to ease my wandering heart’s song. No desert or mountain animals scurry around me among the tufts of grass and rocks and desert trees scattered throughout this place. No living creatures live within miles, though the climate and natural food available for them abounds. It does not look it to the naked eye, but to such eyes as mine, eyes touched by God’s own hand, I see the innumerable hosts of men who have died here, battles and wars of every kind and by every people. It is in this place that every soul comes to die, for it is not a battlefield for legions of trained soldiers, or hosts of the roaming horse people, nor yet for the hosts of light and dark whose paths will soon bring them here, to face each other as two fully fledged hosts, born and bred in exact opposition to each other. Their very nature compels them to seek each other’s total annihilation.
This is the battlefield where souls are saved from the darkness and embraced by the light, or where those souls are overcome by the darkness to become servants of our common enemy.
And so here I wait, standing upon the eve of the day when these powerful forces shall meet, upon the spot where I now stand, to bring the human race to an end. My task, which I have awaited two and a half centuries to complete, is impossible for any but the most impossible of Warrior- seers, impossible for their acceptance of all things in opposition, impossible for all seers save one.
Impossible for any save the Warrior- seer who dared to take both into his broken heart long ago in the hopes that such forces, brought together, would join to create a place where opposites would dwell in peace.
The Warrior- seer who, depending upon the People’s choice of life or death, war or peace, love or hate, will end this conflict forever. Either they will swear by their eternal souls to cease their warring, lay down the weapons of death they carry, accept the truth that their opponents have as much worth as they themselves do, and become one, or I will take my own weapon up again, and fulfill the heartbreakingly bittersweet fate it was destined for. It will break my already broken heart. It will never be mended again; shattered for eternity by the task required at its own cost.
My weapon shall be wielded against them, and by my own immortal hand will I end this eternal conflict.
I will slaughter them all. And in destroying forces whose essence I am, I will slaughter myself.
My own heart. My own life. My own immortal soul sacrificed to bring to pass the world’s ending.
On the morrow it will be done.
. . . . . . . . . . .
The patriarch laid his hands, one by one, upon each father’s shoulders. The fathers, gathered all round him, turned from him as soon as they felt his touch, to return to their kinships.
Every kinship stood in readiness for the fathers to return and give the word that it was time. Every family was gathered, mothers, sons and daughters, grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins and second cousins and adopted members and in- laws, waiting upon the word to move out.
The news had traveled among the kinships, slowly at first but with increasing speed, that their enemies were gathering into one great horde of bloodthirsty savages, that they intended to fall upon them as one and wipe them from the face of the earth. Runners had been sent throughout the land from kinship to kinship, bidding all who desired to retain their rights and privileges, and to keep their families intact, to gather together in the great valley that lay at the roughly central point between the war bands’ territory and their own. The kinships who owned horses and other saddle worthy beasts were already gathering at the valley’s western edge. The rest of the kinships would be travelling all that day, and some through the night, to join their friends and fellow sufferers in one last bitter, bloody, life stealing battle against their common enemy. They would exercise their power, the power that had been handed down from their father Adam, untold ages of time long gone past. By the power that bound them together, inside and outside of time, they would stand against their enemies, outnumbered by more than one thousand to one, and fight. Their chances of surviving the conflict hinged upon one slim thread. The same thread that held the very earth they would stand upon in one piece. The same thread by which their fathers had stopped the waters from flowing. The same thread that had returned the breath to the dead man’s lungs, and removed mountains out of their place, and carried villages whole into the whirlwinds to return no more. The thread upon which the world and everything that lives in it and on it hangs.
The single, slender, simple thread of faith.
The Final Countdown by Europe
The desert valley lay peaceful beneath a cloud-swept sky. To the east and west, the canyon walls loomed steep and high, their smooth slopes too sheer for any but the most fearless horse master to descend. To the south, the waves of the blue-green sea tossed themselves high; crashing into the cliffs that barred their way. To the north, far off in the distance, a travelling warrior could glimpse great mountains if his gaze were piercing, unclouded, and keen. Few warriors had such a gaze, for though many roamed in these areas of the wild, alone or with his or her war band, there had never yet a rumor spread of a battler with the name of Warrior- seer. Days when such souls had dwelt in this land were long past.
Tales were told of the deeds the Warrior- seers had done in those ages. There were many of the old men who held the younger generations captive with their stories of estranged lovers brought together again after years apart. Travelling warrior scholars regaled their spell-bound listeners with tales of entire mountain ranges brought into being with a single word spoken, of oceans and rivers that ceased to flow simply to allow a seer to pass, of days that lasted longer than their allotted two dozen hours, days when the sun stood still. Days when the battles fought therein found the fighters on both sides lying on their faces, too exhausted and faint from the blood they had lost, because of a day when the daylight never waned. Days when entire villages were laid low by fierce storms of a fury that had never been seen before. Days when every law that dictated the ways of Lady Nature was disobeyed.
Though the Warrior- seers were no longer to be found, the times were such that they were in the forefront of the minds of all people. War bands roamed freely across the land. Those who dared to settle in one place and build a village did so with the fragile hope that a war band would not come across they and their kinsfolk; the only hope free people had of surviving such encounters was their acceptance into the band and their own fighting savvy; if they could defeat the war band’s fiercest warrior in one on one combat, they and their kinsfolk were made part of the band. They were required to abandon their village, their traditions, their trades, and their dreams, to fight for the war band against every other, with their every breath. The idea of family, of brother and sister, mother and daughter, father and son, of cousins and uncles and aunts and other kinsfolk, was severed the moment a soul entered their band. From that moment on, a soul, whether male or female, was given to the unrestrained bloodshed of his or her enemy. The old and feeble did not survive long once they were made one of the band. If they were fortunate, they passed into the void within a week, the toils and struggles of the band overcoming their minimal strength. Their bodies were left unburied, their remains left victim to Lady Nature and the beasts that roamed the land.
The young were drawn immediately into conflict, those who were already part of the band teaching them the art of war from the moment of entry. Regardless of age, children were given the harsh tools of battle. The thick leather clothing, the armored helms, breastplates, leg and arm shields, were thrust before their impressionable young eyes. Metals of all kinds composed the armor they chose from. Steel, aluminum, tin, bronze, copper, silver, gold, nickel, titanium. The weapons arrayed before them likewise were of every metal imaginable; swords both curved or straight, spears short or long, maces with metal-spiked balls swung on chains or with heavy heads set on a solid shaft. The children were taught in the most practical and realistic setting available: in mortal combat with each other. The gentle toys and games enjoyed in the villages they left behind were replaced by the weapons and battles their war band gave to them in the stead of what they had known before. Though free people still lived in numerous areas and had many places of retreat and resort, each of them could feel the proverbial walls of eternal war closing in upon them.
Many of the free people, to survive in a world that was becoming more and more defined by war, bloodshed, bondage, and death, formed travelling villages; free people learned by the harsh realities of nomad life how to defend themselves against the war bands. Every member of the families and kinships that made up their people were bound together by necessity, by the ties of common blood, by the love between each other, by their hatred of the bloodthirsty animals that the members of the war bands became, and most importantly by the kidnapping of their precious children. Fear of the war bands, which in the beginning of their formation had caused people of the free world to flee, to hide, and to pray to their gods for deliverance, was changed almost overnight once free people headed out onto the trail they would make by the pounding of their own feet. Those feet, already working together in the villages at their back, were made one by the rigors of the wild land they embraced.
When a free people met a war band upon the trail, the most bitter, bloody, and decimating conflict took place. Free fighters freely bled, giving no quarter to the members of the war band. Those of the band, equal to the free fighters in battle and more powerful in their darkness and weaponry, sought to destroy them; dividing their numbers by their own, pitting their dark children against the home- bred, sun- taught youth of the free fighters, the war bands inevitably prevailed in such conflicts. They did not, however, succeed in their purpose of integrating the surviving free fighters into their band, for no free fighter ever survived. A free fighter would never surrender; every last one fought to his or her death. Because of this choice of the free fighters, the war band was destroyed at its heart. No dark warrior could remain with others of his or her kind after being pierced by the light that dwelt in a free fighter’s indomitable heart.
Free people everywhere knew in their souls that they were standing on the cusp of the most terrible battle that they and their kin and every free fighter everywhere would face.
The battle for the preservation of their right to choose whether or not they would take another breath.
. . . . . . . . . .
It has been two centuries and one half since the time that I walked among the sons and daughters of Man. I have seen births and deaths innumerable. I have seen the hearts of mothers break, and the strength of fathers fail. I have seen sons thrust out as innocent thieves from the place they called home, to seek humble shelter among those few they knew out in the cold world. I have seen daughters unwittingly abused because of the lack of understanding their abusers had of who they were: precious daughters of the God above their cursed heads. My own Brothers have fled this land, for they have lost their hope that this wretched world can yet be saved from the chains that bind it fast; chains whose ending lies in the hand of him who is the enemy of all of God’s children. Those who yet serve the light in this area of the earth are vastly outnumbered by our enemy’s
adopted children, children who once belonged to our dwindling ranks. Children whose darkening souls are being taught by our enemy to hate the light that gave them birth.
I myself am one of them. The darkness in my soul is deeper than that of any other man; the abuse I have received at others’ hands and dealt back again is harsher and more heartless than the abuse suffered by daughters of God upon this earth. The light that I have known is brighter than the noonday sun; I can no longer gaze upon it and receive no harm as I once did. My eyes are no longer the pure oracles they once were. I have embraced the light and turned and walked away more times than an immortal mind such as my own can recall. I have been immersed in God’s light and buried beneath the enemy’s dark chains. I cannot die unless I so choose, and yet the endless stretches of time before my eyes, eyes that are both piercing, unclouded, and keen, hold no answers for me of what I should do. I cannot choose between light and dark, for both hold priceless treasures for me. Both make up a vital, irrevocable half of whom and what I am. I do not see evil in the darkness; I see the desire of God’s children to experience the wonders of this world in all their unshielded, unfiltered, natural, breathtaking, soul shaking, brutally honest splendor.
I see heaven’s light in my enemy’s darkness. I cannot choose between them, for they have become one and the same.
Here I sit, in the center of my wind swept valley, canyon walls before and behind. The sea is far away to my left; its waves I have sailed, its winds and storms I have survived, its ebbs and flows I have committed to my memory. I am caught at the center of them all.
Hills and vales, small mountains and great mountains and razor sharp peaks I see in the far distance to my right. No sweet singing birds fly overhead to ease my wandering heart’s song. No desert or mountain animals scurry around me among the tufts of grass and rocks and desert trees scattered throughout this place. No living creatures live within miles, though the climate and natural food available for them abounds. It does not look it to the naked eye, but to such eyes as mine, eyes touched by God’s own hand, I see the innumerable hosts of men who have died here, battles and wars of every kind and by every people. It is in this place that every soul comes to die, for it is not a battlefield for legions of trained soldiers, or hosts of the roaming horse people, nor yet for the hosts of light and dark whose paths will soon bring them here, to face each other as two fully fledged hosts, born and bred in exact opposition to each other. Their very nature compels them to seek each other’s total annihilation.
This is the battlefield where souls are saved from the darkness and embraced by the light, or where those souls are overcome by the darkness to become servants of our common enemy.
And so here I wait, standing upon the eve of the day when these powerful forces shall meet, upon the spot where I now stand, to bring the human race to an end. My task, which I have awaited two and a half centuries to complete, is impossible for any but the most impossible of Warrior- seers, impossible for their acceptance of all things in opposition, impossible for all seers save one.
Impossible for any save the Warrior- seer who dared to take both into his broken heart long ago in the hopes that such forces, brought together, would join to create a place where opposites would dwell in peace.
The Warrior- seer who, depending upon the People’s choice of life or death, war or peace, love or hate, will end this conflict forever. Either they will swear by their eternal souls to cease their warring, lay down the weapons of death they carry, accept the truth that their opponents have as much worth as they themselves do, and become one, or I will take my own weapon up again, and fulfill the heartbreakingly bittersweet fate it was destined for. It will break my already broken heart. It will never be mended again; shattered for eternity by the task required at its own cost.
My weapon shall be wielded against them, and by my own immortal hand will I end this eternal conflict.
I will slaughter them all. And in destroying forces whose essence I am, I will slaughter myself.
My own heart. My own life. My own immortal soul sacrificed to bring to pass the world’s ending.
On the morrow it will be done.
. . . . . . . . . . .
The patriarch laid his hands, one by one, upon each father’s shoulders. The fathers, gathered all round him, turned from him as soon as they felt his touch, to return to their kinships.
Every kinship stood in readiness for the fathers to return and give the word that it was time. Every family was gathered, mothers, sons and daughters, grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins and second cousins and adopted members and in- laws, waiting upon the word to move out.
The news had traveled among the kinships, slowly at first but with increasing speed, that their enemies were gathering into one great horde of bloodthirsty savages, that they intended to fall upon them as one and wipe them from the face of the earth. Runners had been sent throughout the land from kinship to kinship, bidding all who desired to retain their rights and privileges, and to keep their families intact, to gather together in the great valley that lay at the roughly central point between the war bands’ territory and their own. The kinships who owned horses and other saddle worthy beasts were already gathering at the valley’s western edge. The rest of the kinships would be travelling all that day, and some through the night, to join their friends and fellow sufferers in one last bitter, bloody, life stealing battle against their common enemy. They would exercise their power, the power that had been handed down from their father Adam, untold ages of time long gone past. By the power that bound them together, inside and outside of time, they would stand against their enemies, outnumbered by more than one thousand to one, and fight. Their chances of surviving the conflict hinged upon one slim thread. The same thread that held the very earth they would stand upon in one piece. The same thread by which their fathers had stopped the waters from flowing. The same thread that had returned the breath to the dead man’s lungs, and removed mountains out of their place, and carried villages whole into the whirlwinds to return no more. The thread upon which the world and everything that lives in it and on it hangs.
The single, slender, simple thread of faith.
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