Syllables fall, a jumble of
words on deaf ears,
Pitifully filling the drain
clogged with salted tears.
Intentions of the unintended,
the words, our worlds,
collide together untethered.
The porcelain white dish,
angelic in its glistening shell,
Cups the sweet fruit
lackadaisical in its bliss
like gentle waves of evening
lapping up peaceful solitude.
A white fluffy, sky gracefully
cascades unto the ground,
but within a maelstorm
thunders under the skin
at the sea of lost intentions,
letters of words left unsaid.
Thoughtless seconds, and the
broken sidewalk awaits to
swallow every inch of festering
madness of missed meanings.
The feathers have flown,
a colorful warning of obstinance
wings that will never be
broken or plucked to defeat.
Awkward and gangly, sadness
drips into iris pools of
distant emptiness lost to
all and none alike in the beyond.
Apologetics, like grains of
sand build a castle crumbling
under unjust insecurities.
The palette of emotions,
let it linger as a torn page
from disappearing woes.
A harmony profound has
danced with demons,
our dark becoming light.
- (Rebirth name: Akai)
- Race: Hesspa
- Age: unknown
- Profession: unknown; often referred to as the Wanderer
- Physical: Hessphasei has short horns. His scales are a deep, rich red – a unique color for his race. Four feet high.
A few rocks tumbled to the forest floor about twenty feet down. It was not a difficult or high climb by any means, at least during the day. At night, all Hessphasei could do was feel for footholds and hand holds, no matter how keen his vision. The going was slow. The distant swampland came alive behind him with the descent of darkness. Frogs and crickets croaked their symphony punctured by the strange whine of the common snipe found in the Anobi swampland. A glance behind would have revealed the glowing light bugs bringing a serene beauty to an otherwise musty existence.
Hessphasei knew it was misleading. Tonight he had almost been caught. Tonight could have been the end of his life.
On a mission for the emerging Rebirth organization, Hessphasei had returned to his
homeland to investigate rumors of an arrangement between GOUS and his kinsmen. He let the word go in a sarcastic grunt. Kinsmen would hardly be the word he would use; not ever again. The rumors didn’t surprise him, he would have expected as much from mercenaries and thieves. He had escaped long ago with his family, providing their services to those merchants who needed protection and sheltering from the predators of the road. His journey had eventually led him to Pythis where he found companions.
As GOUS slowly extended its hand to Pandoram, seeking a headquarters in the galaxy, Hessphasei and his companions realised what would happen. An agent of theirs had worked his way into the main ground forces of GOUS. He quickly found out that the Hesspa were the instigators of this whole mess. Unfortunately, he was shortly found out himself and GOUS made quick work of the spy.
The unfortunate event had not deterred Hessphasei and the Rebirth organization, though.
Determined to get to the bottom of things, Hessphasei volunteered to venture back to his homeland. And now, here he stood, a speck on a rocky outcropping looking over the vast swamplands. The Anobi swampland encompassed a large island string far south of Pythis, which was an easily defensible city. It would have been near to impossible for GOUS to take over Pythis, however; establishing a relationship with the Hesspa and camping out in Anobi did not bode well. Indeed, what Hessphasei had learned tonight was not good news.
He sighed and continued back into the cave behind him, his eyes easily adjusting to the dark. A gentle chirp emanated within and an elegant, small dragon stepped forth. Its body was completely black, blacker than the night. The only thing that shown was its golden eyes. It gave a soft nuzzle on Hessphasei’s hand. The Denor, or “dark dragons” as they were called, were a popular breed for the Hesspa used for transportation. Dark dragons resided in the holes of the rocky clefts that rose up on the islands. For the most part, they were nocturnal creatures. Hessphasei was given Issisa as a gift from his mother and father when he was a thessa (teenage Hesspa). They had long since passed away peacefully; Issisa had not left his side since. She had been the best Denor his parents had and he had cherished her companionship since that day. Unlike most Hesspa, he had not grown up with sisters or brothers. Issisa was the closest he had to family since his parents had passed. He would have her by his side for many more years to come.
The dragon nudged him again. She was getting impatient. The wind was calling. Hessphasei glanced back again at the brooding fortress of Anobi in the distance. Rebirth would have to move quickly, he thought, otherwise Pythis would soon find even its most impenetrable defenses to be futile. Issisa leaped agilely into the air, her great wings making a great swoosh as they opened. The wind was calling.
“Do not overrate what you have received, nor envy others. He who envies others does not obtain peace of mind.”
As all good writers do, I was eavesdropping the other day and it has also coincided with my philosophical muse (this time in the form of Buddha;). The conversation happened upon someone’s success and its outward measurement by someone else. This is somewhat of a contorted topic for most of us as we have been taught that success is measurable and is measurable in materials; thus we tend to envy those around us for having more whether it be a bigger house, a better paying job, a family, etc. We see success as tangible and outward, a goal that is constantly sought but not necessarily always found. Perhaps, then, we must venture inward, a journey into ourselves and become the hero/heroine in our struggle for that success-something that I would equate to inner peace.
Writing for me is not just an escape but an outward expression of who I am, who I wish I could be, how I see others, my inner most dreams and fears, etc. I believe this to be true for many writers, but as I lack the evidence, I will not put the label on them. In this outward expression, I have pondered often times what the villains and antagonists in my stories (as well as those I read) represent. In my quest to write a story, I have focused on making the villains realistic, someone you might encounter in everyday life. To that extent, I have taken all the qualities that I despise and even some that I think are okay but others may not like and put them into antagonist form. This seems to breakdown reality into a more simplistic troupe wherein good will triumph over the evil–the ultimate victory.
Amongst those dark, dank and dusty tunnels between the letters you’ll find reality behind the written mask. In that aspect, I truly believe writers and avid readers are better equipped to understand reality and to better seek their own success, or peace. We are less likely to label our own success based on others because we’ve seen through our different adventures, through millions of different characters’ eyes that success…it simply cannot be measured. It will never be a trophy to be held. Whether you stand against an army of rabid orcs or stand alone in the midst of a collapsing world, your success will not be something you can grasp. Instead, you will feel something within, something that stirs inside of you because against all odds you took a stand, you made yourself heard and you know, had you not, you would have lost the game.
Unlike a story, however, reality cannot simply end and perhaps you feel that you’re nothing like that hero/heroine you have read. That is where the discrepancy lies. Once that struggle is over, once that valiant victory is won, it won’t simply be a happy ending. Instead, we must treat our life like it is a series of stories, each with its own ending, each that, when finished, delivers you inner peace because you, the hero/heroine, took the less traveled path and, though treacherous, have seen the world for what it is. You may think you don’t possess the bravery, the perseverance or the knowledge to venture forth and you would be misguided by the most unexpected antagonist of any story: dependence. Never rely on someone or someone else’s opinion or expectations. It will only lead you astray from your own adventure and you will soon find that your success will gradually fall out of your reach. Whatever path you may choose, you won’t need a measuring stick to get where you are going, after all when “you step onto the road, and if you don’t keep your feet, there’s no knowing where you might be swept off to.”*
*Lord of the Rings, The Fellowship of the Ring. J.R.R Tolkien