A Prologue to SleepThe goodnight whisper
My mind wanders and wonders
is it goodnight for good
or just tonight?
Will the fist 'round my heart loosen
or do you wait in the shadows
watching me move in my sleep?
Do you see the tear or
is it water to you?
Is blood just red to you
or can you taste the truth?
Or is it just a game?
an unjust game
forever a game.
Sleep is a struggle
well-fought and well-rewarded
it comes easily when it comes
and within it lies you.
What you were meant to be
what you have become.
There, at least
There, at least
There, at last, I'm free.
ConclusionSo those words
and promises and
those hugs you gave
were they empty
or filled with
and poetry and
music you gave
were they borrowed
for me or
for your conscience?
And when it all ended
And I was like no one
And you were like them
All of them
was it my fault
or were you just
RollercoasterSure, I'll take your classes
write your essays
do math until my ears bleed.
I won't ask questions.
I'll pretend you're God.
Yeah, I'll sign those papers
file these taxes
take out those loans.
I won't cheat you
I'll act like it matters.
Okay, let's get married
I'll dress up nice
we can have cake
I won't lie to you
I'll try not to die young.
Alright, I'll ride this rollercoaster
buckle my belt
pull down the bar
I won't scream
I'll keep my eyes open as long as I can.
Let me know when it's over
so I can close them again.
EncounterI walked past myself on the way home today.
He was 46. Hungover. Black, white, and grey.
At first I denied it was me.
There I was; lonely, old, broken and dirty,
Twice as wrinkled as I had been at thirty.
Walking these same streets, twenty-five years from now.
Then I saw through his eyes what'd become of my life;
How I would lose my home, all my money, my wife.
No car, no friends, no direction, no job.
My hair was a mess, I was dressed like a slob.
And as I stared at this man, I became him.
I turned around, face-to-face with 21-year-old me,
His eyes still bright with the hope of what he could still be.
He looked at my hand, where a ring had once been,
Then into my eyes and back down again.
"Where did she go?" he asked me.
I reached out and touched his young shoulder and cried,
And watched his blue eyes while a piece of him died.
I became him.
"Never," I whispered, and hurried away.
Home to my wife and child, to say,
"I love you."
I changed my future today.
"A Series of Letters" - 10Dear Miss Kravenmoore,
I apologize for being so long in my correspondence. Ive had many setbacks in my tasks of late, and in fact Ive neglected the things that are truly highest on my list of priorities.
Much has happened since last we spoke most notable and pertinent being the conversation I had with the High Priestess Mynora shortly after you and I last saw one another. She called you Annika, which happens to be a name of particular note to me. I would highly appreciate some time to talk with you, about this name, and about some other things that have been on my mind in recent times.
Again I apologize for such a lengthy absence from your life, Miss Kravenmoore. Please, write back soon.
"Ethereals" - 9 It had been a long flight, and the wind had brought a crispness and a chill to Berufengs face. The talons of a great viridian drake had latched onto his spaulders and lifted him from the ground, soaring over the alien terrains of the Outland.
A violet wasteland was swirling beneath him, and in the distance he could see enormous mana-domes he recognized as the ecodomes of the Netherstorm. He and Mynora had stopped there only briefly on their recent vacation to Outland, and met many men of a race called ethereals who were well-versed in the strange workings of the magical world. Within these ecodomes, they maintained a jungle climate and environment, and studied the various indigenous species which would, outside the plasma walls of the domes, be ex