The following's copyrights are waved for electronic text only. Any printed media versions of all or part is a violation of copyright law. Duplication of this text by electronic means is restricted to distribution with Readdx-Win (in ZRW/ZRFW) as the primary viewer, even in such cases where this program is not compatible with other (non PC compatible) systems. The purpose of this distribution is to demonstrate attributes of the above mentioned program with regards to certain types of literature, and demonstrate the effectiveness and ease of use with its background file compression when used with text files. This has been severly edited down to keep the archieve size down, although Vestabur has been added. To load files into Readdx-Win, click on the filename using ZIP Runner 7.5 or ZR FileWorks 7.5 and press F3. To check compression rates on .txx files, click the filename and the view icon (looks like an eye) as you would for ordinary compression archieves. Montage By Jared P. DuBois (c) Copywrites 1986,87,88,89,90,94 Montage is from.. The Vestatile Verse repetition Triumvirum Quadranine pentacle Montage is.. neither acceptance nor denial -+-The Immortals, Mortal Rectitude (Affinity)*, (Centricity), (Life (again.)) -+-Time Again, In Ignorance maelstroms leading up (Rites of Passage), (Landmarks Left By) (Chasten Not I), (A Moment's Peace) -+-Distance Closes In, In My Prime (Less than Whole), (What was then) sounds of our love's song -+-As it is -+-Absence Presence and Promise Fulfilled (Once Bitten), (Four- Leafed Clovers) -+- Remembrance, (A Single Rose) (I found my soul), (We Once Touched, Goodbyes) (To Be You, Give me love) of life and truth and fate and lies (The Long Journey) -+-The Wayfarer, The Executioner -+-The Cauldron of Fontaine, Vestabur (Once a King) to make a sound or stir -+-Contemplating Freedom, Fears of finding out -+-The Haunting, (I cannot see me), (My mind is Free) -+-Once is me, (Starry- Eyed and Boisterous) to question why -+-Our Legacy of Lethargy, To Wit -+-(Outgrown Innocence), (Death of a Child) -+-Automatons, (The Eternal Yoke) -+-Sword of the Slight, (Conscientious Objectors) the indomitable straits of time -+-Motions Passing, Eclipsed, (Momentous Moments) -+-Moments of Repatriation, (In Unison), (Prismic) -+-Waiting, Tomorrow on into the sunset -+-The Dark Horse, Excelsior -+-Crystal Castles, Lexicon * = not incuded, -+- = included neither acceptance nor denial The Immortals Beat fast oh heart of endless motion that carries us through the shrouded stillness of the omnipresent cold eternal night which holds countless souls captive, entombed within its endless fiefdom smothered in angst and robbed of sight Move quickly you who dare to think that you have any relevance to it all or it to you or you to what is right lest you may learn that nothing matters to life which you may cherish or despise and to death which merely continues this plight No future is real and the past slips away, not wanting to be remembered or relived, not holding onto you nor letting you hold it as you are perpetually thrown into nothingness and then let to grasp at something yet that something never enables you to quit Constant scurrying with nowhere to go is the empty fate which befalls us all and holds us in the wake of endless questing after truths that lose their importance as easily and as often as we lose our lives without diminishing our spirit's vesting Mortal Rectitude Pushing ever towards the end we reach out for the newest and latest and we receive them yet again never doubting the relevancy or immediatcy of evolution Seeing ourselves decay and knowing our governments and systems, our attempts to keep change at bay, condemn us to see that our lives and ritual actions are institutions Doomed to eventual obscurity we struggle to achieve eternal importance lest we become forgotten history always believing that to be remembered is to live, an absolution Pegged into the fold, locked into a slice of eternal time chained to life fading and old ever acknowledging neither acceptance nor denial is resolution Time again Never is ever ever enough for life itself is in the extreme surpassing itself time and time again for that it is and for that must it always be as this or that comes to rule each moment becoming that time while chaos itself reigns supreme for all that may no matter what, no matter when must bow to this Time becomes time again defining itself anew each resurgent light as all of creation falls down to this until it was and then never again would it, could it be paved over by insatiable lust for life driving those others over that which drove it seeking to become that moment, become that life which by turns gives life and feeds off of it living by giving what does In Ignorance In ignorance I look to the sky sensing some higher order, some higher mind as yet unknownst to me so I pass it by enjoying peace and pleasure and like in kind for place untold cannot bind In ignorance I live each day without fear oblivious to death omnipresently everywhere in each potently deadly soul be they far or be they near for life and death and consequence we each share needing to be needing, being to dare So life leave to mystery and to death leave the facts so cold and unchanging written in black upon black for living is standing with the truth to our backs facing the yet-to-be true, the ever changing track surmounting the known with each little act Thinking meaning existed then, or when, or ever we see ourselves as lost and forever wandering blind yet to see truth as evolving becoming full truly never is to accept ignorance as a fact, a mean state of mind knowing all knowing soon succumbs to time maelstroms leading up Distance Closes In Distance closes in and horizons once seemingly endless become known, and being known, uninteresting as the playpen to the room, the room to the yard, the yard to the street, ad infinitum The planet, being known thus becomes to small to frame us so we search out new limits to our view and overlook the unknowns at home in our cities, our streets, in our peoples, and in ourselves Infinity itself collapses under the weight of impressive stares as if to say what else can I do, what more can I give and we ourselves, not knowing, merely shrug and walk away saying we only thought there'd be more In My Prime I see myself in my minds eye in my youth stout and strong and in my prime too untamed and too untried not to think that all the world could be bent towards my will by my pride Wary now, I seldom wander to find fulfillment of futile goals lying ever yonder yet in my heart and in my dreams I am still a fool eagerly awaiting opportunity to cast away my wisdom if sorrow it means Is ignorance bliss, I wonder debating whether incremental time is some cosmic blunder for when age brings us aquiessence for lessening roles in lesser amibitions we still believe we are more and have more as we lose faith in our essence sounds of our love's song As it is As light as a feather that flutters to and fro fancifully upon the slightest breeze As strong as the feeling of futility at the suppression of an undeniably growing sneeze As warm as the color of a blazing crimson sun on a pale morning sky As safe as a prison or the painted sanctuaries in which we all shall lie As indefinable as the moment in which we finally come to know and love ourselves As rich as the body and soul of mother earth which gives but never sells As these and so much else, so is my love for you and so shall be forever more As easy as it is to say it is far the more difficult to feel all is real and I am yours Absence, Presence, and Promise Fulfilled Without love I am free to cultivate hate without fear of any unseemly contradiction to drive me to purge either one or the other With love I may love just a few without need to share that love with all or justify loving anyone better or more Within love there is the hope I may live without seeing anyone in my heart clearer than anyone else who is no less worthy of the same Rememberance As I lay down to sleep I pray this memory I shall always keep of you with me now in my time in my world, in my soul, and in my mind for though we must continue to change I hope to keep a piece of this treasure of pleasure brought by loving you to me with me always, even in my darkest hour when my body lies cold, bled dry of feeling and power, for if I have but this memory of you I will still have love and joy and peace and light and a little slice of the best time in my life of life and truth and fate and lies The Wayfarer Torn and tattered were his clothes and his face, like a well worn overgrown trail, inspired polite respect with a twinge of fear in the people whom he passed as his soul set sail to find some wondrous place to finally rest and upon that day he felt it drawing ever near It was the fourteenth day of December when his feet first carried him into the town where he would meet the strangest of fates and revel in the wake of the unseen forces that abound between the reality of day and the darkness of night which draw one unknowingly into the eeriest of states In an little old inn on the edge of town the wayfarer stopped for warmth and a drink but this was no ordinary inn as he soon found out for the innkeeper had devious eyes which would wink whenever the wayfarer thought something was strange and the walls themselves seemed to scream or shout Intrigued by the strangeness of the place the daring traveler decided to stay the night but after making a quick check of his room his eyes caught flash of a hideous sight of a wolf standing bloodied over a mutilated body and when the brief vision ended, he felt impending doom Hurriedly, he splashed his face wet in a water basin at the end of the hall, his heart racing at the marvel he had seen driving him to take some action or to call for help from some sorcerer, demon, or god to help him vanquish this terrible dream Once again in the inn's tavern he instead chose food to regain his composition for he felt that he would need all his senses to do battle with the demonic apparition that lay waiting for him in his room yet also in some other world behind unseen fences He felt its presence even then as he ate in an attempt to gain strength, he felt it chiding to him to run while he could but he did not listen to it at any length, just long enough to know it was still there and that if it could destroy him it surely would The man at the bar let out a laugh that sounded as deranged as its meaning was obscure but before he left the room in a frenzied delight he had pointed to the wayfarer sitting demure and said nothing though the meaning became clear in that he was a fool for not feeling proper fright Alone in the room of the wolf he sat expectantly upon a wooden chair and with his gun at his side and knife in hand he waited for something or someone to be there but though the feeling grew ever more intense nothing appeared that he could see or understand Soon he began to grow tired yet the more that he gave into this tide the more invigorated he felt himself become until he lay wide awake on the other side where the wolf lay waiting in a field of green and the light of the moon was now the sun He stood up and gave chase to the wolf although he was no longer certain why for this world was certainly not like his own as it had orange plants and a bright pink sky and as he grew nearer to the fleeing wolf he realized it was unlike any he had known The ominous hatred and venomance which he had sensed back at the inn no longer was present in this strange new place though still he felt driven to purge this sin, this horrible abomination incarnate in the wolf seeming so near that he could sense its foul taste Then the wolf grew tired at last and turned to face the wayfarer's approach yet it did not show any sign of fear nor did it turn hostile when he drew close, instead it quietly awaited its impending fate as the hunter flung himself at it like a spear The wayfarer's confusion grew still when the wolf seemed to vanish in the air but the feelings still had hold of him and as he fled across the plains in despair he noticed that his body had disappeared while he ran within the wolf's own skin Over the next hill he came across a man whom he vaguely noticed was himself and as the man began to shudder back the man-wolf felt the fear rise in itself growing stronger until both were one at the moment its teeth gnashed open his neck Screaming, the man was again in the room far too shaken to think of anything's meaning as he packed his things and hurried away into the darkness of that fateful evening when worlds collided for one man never known except for the footprints in the snow never shown The Executioner The moment of truth appeared within the blink of an eye as I solemnly raised my gun before my quavering victim The Executioner of Justice is the name I chose long ago and that far off day gone by is suddenly thrust before my eyes Was it my passion for life or some perverse taste for death that made me love the work which came to dominate my life This kill will not come easy and this face before me shall not be quietly put to rest in my tortured silent nights This time I cannot believe that this tragedy is just and the innocent eyes before me reflect the truth of my task Countless times before I could have questioned but instead I chose to remain ignorant of the manipulations of the halls of justice that determine who shall live or die This time it was too blatant, an example to be made, a statement of brutal blindness to keep the rank and file in line Right and wrong are dissolving in my long inactive mind and the fresh wind that blows is filled with condemnation My hand begins to violently shake and the gun grows heavy within as if the weight of my deeds are now alive in my instrument of death An explosive turmoil erupts within as I am faced with countless questions of life and truth and fate and lies and of my own inevitable demise The forces ripping me apart are great but the solution is so near and easy and in an instant later it is over as the echoes of the shot die in the air My eyes grow dim and my heart heavy as I watch the body hit the floor and I convince myself I will survive the haunting truth my soul had seen Cauldron of Fontaine In medieval days of nightmarish lore when the unspeakable occurred far too often for any to keep score there was a abomination vested upon a town which knows no fame save for being the birthplace of the Cauldron of Fontaine Made from the iron of thirty swords that took the souls of scores of men the blackened pot would feed the hoards of those who served the darkness and reveled in the terror vexed upon Man, taking great pleasure from each atrocity their demonic leader would command The deeds of this troupe defy telling without disturbing the sensibilities of those who find righteousness compelling so it should suffice for me to say that the results of their debauchery boiled in an evil mixture in that cauldron as the dignity of humanity was forever soiled The village once known as Fontaine was peaceful before those days, before the devil called Raven came in a firestorm of reckless abandon asking for followers to seize the day, to profit from the confusion, to take all and make heaven pay In desperate times such as these men were all too willing to follow one who did as he pleased fearing neither the wrath of God nor the formidable armies of kings that were heralding forth another age for which chivalry valiantly sings Twisted was Raven's maniacal mind bent upon a life everlasting and so unrelenting was he to find the key to achieving this hopeless dream that he dared leave no stone unturned until immortality was his prize and its secrets were at last learned Fools always follow where greed leads and in those days of long ago that road was known as alchemy, where science and mysticism joined and produced a mutated child which died attempting to tame a world where blind instinct ran wild Raven was convinced that this was the way that he could at last be immortal and forever postpone his judgment day so the dreaded cauldron was conceived to concoct that elixir of eternal life made from the fluids of life and death taken ceremoniously with a lethal knife Blood flowed endlessly for years hence as more villagers became convinced that the Angel of Death could now be fenced leaving them free to live lives of lust without fear of any final hereafter until one by one they all met the blade to the tune of Raven's menacing laughter Decrepit and fast turning gray, Raven realized his failure far too late as he too lived to see the day when he was chosen as a sacrifice to feed the younger who gained claim upon his legacy of unbridled brutality justly giving him taste of the same Though they all now wear death's chains, as a monument to those dark days an undistinguished black pot still remains for on a museum shelf behind a glass case sits the Cauldron of Fontaine as a relic from another world achieving Raven's pitiful aim Vestabur Of all the great legends which ever were no name rings truer than that of the mighty Vestabur who gave all for nothing chasing humanity's forgotten cure In the land of Vikings during the most violent of ancient days this strongest of warriors wept for man's seemingly eternal malaise which pitted man against man and goodness against stronger selfish ways Finding none who were worthy of his inestimable prowess of force he then sailed off alone letting fate decide his course driven by a sense of uneasiness and determined to find its source For fourteen lonely days and fifteen turbulent nights no glimpse of sunlight broke the clouds and no sign of land reached his sights until at last upon that final day he saw mountains of astonishing heights The mountains reached right to the sea barren of any form of living thing, so empty and gray and desolate no comfort did its appearance bring with such an endlessly imposing facade that even the sea birds no longer did sing Hungry and weary from his journey, Vestabur hastened to go ashore but little respite did he receive as his hands became bloodied and sore trying to climb those rugged cliffs which appeared to go on forever more After what seemed an eternity, he reached the top of a peak only to be confronted by a winged creature that could speak which had hovered before him and asked him what he seeked A dragon some would call it though dragons were not so small for this scaly quite ugly sprite stood no more than three feet tall and because of its tiny wings, one wondered how it flew at all Vestabur thought for a bit and then said, "To end my pain for I am tired, cold, and hungry and am quickly becoming lame as I have traveled long and hard only to find nothing gained." After a long pause of suspicion the creature looked wary and replied, "A bed and shelter and food, these things I can easily provide but surely thou travels not for these for everywhere these comforts reside." The warrior let out a thunderous laugh and said, "Thou art a wise sprite for seeing deeper than I might wish but thou art most certainly right in that I seek relief of a deeper pain than one can name or hold in sight." He continued, "If thou wouldst comfort me with the provisions that thou didst say I would be in thy gravest debt and shall be most eager to repay by naming my pain as yet untold if it pleaseth thee for me to say." It was early the following morning when Vestabur awoke invigorated and refreshed that he told the sprite his woeful tale of how the worst in Man destroyed the best and it was then that he heard the prolific words which would set him upon his greatest quest The creature spoke in a low solemn tone, "Thy vision is true and thy heart is pure for there is a plague of greed upon the land by which Man is poisoned and cannot long endure but all hope has not yet been lost for there is a place which covets the cure." "Devils be damned and heavens praised," Vestabur abruptly and joyfully exclaimed, "A thousand blessings be upon thee if thou wouldst only speak the name of that place which has come to possess such an auspicious claim to fame." "Mubarakk," the winged creature said as it began to fly out of his sight, "Sail in the direction of the setting sun for a hundred days and nights, turn back for no one and nothing and never give into your fright." Slowly Vestabur made his way down the dangerous steep mountain's edge working his way away from the house that the creature had built upon a ledge with his mind dwelling upon the words the strange creature had last said The fury of the seven seas hath no fury like that of a man possessed to achieve that one goal or reward that he knows in his heart to be the best, not for himself but for his whole world and Vestabur was driven by nothing less Through the harshest of storms he sailed unrelentingly plodding on toward some place where he knew he would be gravely taxed in a test which could affect his whole race so he bore the worst the sea could give and he swore he would not act in haste During a rare moment of peace and calm he happened upon a lush tropical isle, a garden of endless sensual delights radiating a joy that could make the devil smile so it was here that he stopped for more supplies and a place where he could rest for awhile Words cannot describe the beauty of that place or of the friendliness people there had showed upon the storied stranger weak and frail half starved and half crazed by his chosen road to rid the world of its evil and its pains that some unseen god or demon ungraciously bestowed But here there was no hate or selfishness and the world he left behind seemed to fade away, just a nightmare that lingered in some twilight time forgotten but not leaving its importance betrayed as it clamored to him in his restless troubled sleep and its resolve in hope there too vice could be allayed And the love that had been denied to him before came to him in that wonderful enchanted place in the guise of beauty Mirimaney Kondessay who embodied the purest of virtue, love, and grace with the glimmer of a thousand stars within her eyes and a radiance as great as the sun within her face Here was contentedness and here was untold joy which he had never dreamed could be before yet deep within he knew he'd never see again for he knew that this place was merely a door to be passed through and left behind forever and that more pains of the past lay in store Though this hurt was far deeper than any others, Vestabur left quietly during one calm night again sailing toward the land of the setting sun cursing himself for being too weak to ignite courage enough to bid farewell his new bride and still be able to continue on with his plight Five weeks hence, his supplies again exhausted he found another island to look for food to eat but no land of paradise was this evil isle as death lay everywhere eager to meet this giant of a man who dared enter the domain of the Banu tribe with painted hands and feet In the shank of the evening the blood bath erupted as Vestabur awoke to them attacking him one by one yet each time he triumphed, another foe lay vanquished, and over a hundred lay dead before the dying was done when ten men rushed him cracking his skull for as the mighty Vestabur fell the battle was won When he awoke he found himself tied upon a yoke of precious metals lined with jewels in the hall of a gigantic luxurious marble palace among sculptures carved by the finest artisan's tools, displayed along beside them atop a high ledge being gawked at by a court filled with noble fools From his perch he could look down and see the story of the kingdom unfold beneath his eyes as the monarch sat upon a throne of the finest jade doling out the most incredulous of lies eagerly consumed by a nation taught only obedience caring not that they had no will to compromise Thrice daily he would be washed and fed serving no more purpose than that of a living statue declaring to all the power of the emperor which his bound and helpless state showed true yet only his body lay confined and constrained while his mind raced to uncover any opportunity cue For the first time in his victory filled life Vestabur was held prisoner like some animal in a cage removed from the freedoms he had always known and daily he held witness to his mounting rage at the atrocious abuses of power going on below which we affecting him more than he could ever gauge As he saw even mere children condemned to die for deeds done by their parents or other kin he vowed he would rid this world of this tyrant before resuming the task long ago did he begin believing nothing he could do could ever surpass this victory over viciousness which he had to win After the trials which always ended up executions, Emperor Kyrik would stand alone in this hall admiring his statues and opulent ornaments gloating over having the power of death over all and one day he spoke to Vestabur shackled high above, "Thy head from thy neck might as easily fall!" "Thou wouldst suffer far more than me for I knowst a place of untold treasure," Vestabur answered, "and beauty far greater than could give such a beast as thee pleasure for the wealth of this place surmounts all that thou has is this hall or could measure." "And all I must do to have this marvelous wealth is to set thee free I supposeth," the emperor said, "yet I be not the fool thou thinkst I am for only moments later I wouldst surely be dead though I thinkst thou speaketh the truth so I shall send out my armies to search instead." Moments later the emperor returned to the hall where Vestabur stood consumed by his flaming hate for the man who now predicted complete success in plundering all wealth as his armies would devastate all peoples weaker be they near or far away and as he said so Vestabur realized it was too late Suddenly he was struck with a vision of the island of boundless beauty and grace being raped of the riches it shone forth, the kindness and the love too strong to erase would doom them to be destroyed one and all as the vipers poisoned that wondrous place As the emperor laughed far below Vestabur saw him directly beneath the ledge and summoning all the strength left in him he tipped the stone stockade using his foot as a wedge tilting it forward inch by inch as his foot crushed until at last the stone and he tumbled over the edge He awoke upon a gallows before a crowd shouting curses at him for killing the emperor, no joy did they have for being set free as they began to stone the mighty Vestabur and the reasons why he craved that death were so tainted by this he could no longer remember "These fools shall never become free," Vestabur thought as he prepared to die, "for they haveth no meaning or goals in life save for those given by some ruler up high and such as being as me wouldst never be forced or force others to live out such a lie." Bracing himself for the final yank nearing, he felt proud for having the chance to have been and he feared not death nor pain nor loss for he knew that this was not his true end because his quest was still not near resolution meaning he still would be though knowing not when He saw the coming events proceed in stills, like photographs or like cards taken out of deck, when the trapdoor fell and chaos ensued while the rope snapped close around his strong neck seeing lightening strike the crowd around him then seeing the whole scene fall to a distant speck End of Part One Vestabur- Conclusion (middle parts missing) How Vestabur had come to arrive there I doubt that anyone could truly say and where exactly there might have been could easily go unknown for a million more days so sadly I am left merely able to say that at long last Vestabur had found his way This isle was a perfect circle with a solitary peak which rose forth from the center and ended in a cloud but no joy came from his mighty heart as it raced with a ferocitiy such that he thought it echoed out loud and a solemn melencholy gripped his whole being fearing the cloud above was his eternal shroud Driven by forces too powerful to dare resist he laughed as he pondered his very first fear, that of reaching the end of his long troubled journey, not of failing but of the success now drawing near and that vague notion of a final resolution made him shake violently as its meaning became clear No more venturing would be should he succeed in ridding the world of all ails and ills as his meaning dissolved before the face of the resolve that drove him here and would carry him up that hill which cursed his success and dared him to leave while he still knew who he was, knowing he could be still But fear could have no hold over him and he let the sensation run its course and go as he slowly made his way toward the town that his visions of forebearance quickly let him know would await him at the foot of that mount and would surprise him with an unexpected foe Pleasant were the people of this remote town eager to meet and greet this great stranger, so accomodating and polite, he was so entralled and taken aback by this kindness he saw no danger in dalying for a time to repay their generous hospitality when asked to stay awhile and tend to their manger Strange animals he found in that pristine barn where he came to work to tend their stout stock, healthy and boisterous and so uncannily attuned to service that he had but to think to command a flock of sheep which went daily to a meadow undistinguished but for an errily glowing pile of mountain rocks There at dusk after a hard day's work atop the rocks he felt free as never before in command of his self and his destiny so much so that the future he dreaded lay in store now seemed ameniable and even freindly to him smiling down on him because he dreaded it no more Day after day went past while he worked without notice of the time or the passing seasons that soon changed to years, then many years but this seemed not to his goal to be of any treason for this was but a temporary stop on his journey and all must always be because of due reason Four and fourty years passed before he noticed how those rocks that he sat upon for so long were to be found in every house and every meeting place, and how they glowed when the townsfolk would throng for some festive event which celebrated each new day as a new era never seeing how much that view was wrong Time made no mark upon this forgotten place as generation after generation came and passed without making any innovation or any new creations to distinguish one era from the next or truths from the mask tradition builds to preserve all views from before and strives to keep any questions from being asked This is in all lands but nowhere else was it so clear as here where there was no small task ever new nor any thought different than those of the day before for even as children learned and constantly grew there was no dividing lines nor any individual patterns setting them apart from each other in what they did or knew Individuals had no meaning to be found here as all worked to serve all others without thought for themselves or for the betterment of others who shared not their secluded seemily ideal spot yet they did not know of the horrors that lay beyond their vision or of the wrongs elsewhere wrought Yet Vestabur found his gift of inner visions not to be strange nor did he find anyone astounded by his presence nor did they ask of where he came and when he spoke of the past, they were not dumbfounded but would knowingly bow their head in aquiessence whenupon the sorrows of the outside world were sounded Longing to know just how much they knew Vestabur questioned his friend Baynu without respite until at last he admitted they all knew the truth of the world from which he had long left in flight and he too said the cure to all man's troubles lay at the top of the mountain forever in their sight Furious, Vestabur lashed out in utter condemnation at the whole town knowingly just standing by doing nothing while evil lay everywhere hurting all while they did nothing to aid in its possible demise, instead languishing in the luxury of goodwill without the fortitude to make all of mankind so wise "But what of thou," Baynu said in a forgiving way "We cometh heer by our forefathers searching like thee and it was here that the stones lastly didst them comfort letting them know from their demons they be free not having to purge themselves of others shortcomings and sins and giving them peace the world beyond wouldst not let be." Again rekindling the fire that led him here, he fled the town in a fit of unseemly haste violently clawing his way up that mountainside not allowing himself chance to rethink out of fear he'd waste this one last chance to gain what he had come for, to rid life of its bile and bitterness of taste He climbed until he could climb no more frozen by the winds chiding "Death is at hand," and there he most surely would have died had it not been for the kindness of a man who had made his camp near the top long ago in the mists of a cloud high above the land Small he was though he did not look frail and his temperment was decidedly meek yet Vestabur felt humbled and quite afraid of this man who many might think to be weak for the fire in his eyes and the weight of his words left the giant too afraid to dare speak Though this man did his best to reassure him, Vestabur could not come to feel at ease here for always was he the most powerful one yet this tiny man somehow made him to fear even though he knew this man meant him no harm making him ever more uncomfortable when he came near After a time he found the courage to speak his irrational fear to this gentle little man and he found himself being able to clearly express notions that he did not even fully understand while saying to this compassionate patron of help how he feared himself no longer in command The look on this stranger's face released him from the fear that he felt within his heart for Vestabur understood that this man knew his fears and his need to feel apart, to be bigger and better than all the rest and how he had need for them all in his heart "That thou wishst to serve thy people is honourable is didst bring thou to me here on thy mountain today," the man said, "as my wish to serve my people faithfully hast brought me here to await thee and to help thou learn what it is thou seeks." Vestabur relayed his entire life's history to this stranger upon a cliff high in the air telling him of his joys and his loves lost and how the whole world seemed in deep despair hoping that when he ended his tales of his past he might be told if his future lay there Instead the man said nothing at all of what Vestabur ought next to wish to do as he motioned toward the top of the peak saying, "The end is there to go if thou needst to but what thou may find is within thee now and will still be there when thy journey is through." With great trepidations, Vestabur went outside to gaze at the peak barely visible in the pall seeming so near that he could be there now without needing to have to go there at all and without realizing it he was doing so, climbing as if answering some inner call Then it happened as the universe ended without Vestabur or the snowy mountaintop because it all had come to an end long, long ago before the beginning with no story now to stop for he realized what he wanted could never be as his whole life fell like rain or a single teardrop Wanting for everyone to live in joy, knowing what it truly is like to live free was to him then and is to us in our time now forever to be more of a dream than reality as it can never be that for any who are free not to be able and therefore not to do, us misery to make a sound or stir Contemplating Freedom Wondering where wistfulness went my mind briefly yet sagaciously moves to a time when I thought not of myself before doing and maybe, before being letting not preconception deny experience Why is it now inconceivable to me to stand naked on the roof beneath the stars, to run gaily through the feilds rolling with life and not think myself an ass for loving life so much as to engage in harmless foolish fun Where what becomes what for and why not why is where who I have come to be has since lost me in the trees whose protective leaves let no one see the boy inside the man, the girl behind the woman, loving what little sponataity we're still graciously allowed The constraints are mine to have or have not and respect the invisible instigation to keep hold, to keep in check that urge to burst out laughing whenever we feel we've stepped into the absurd yet absurdity lies at the heart of all around us only now sorrow has replaced the joy Fears of finding out Fear drives one away from the mirror, fear of looking too deeply at bare facts fate has dealt under pain of death, fear of seeing what lies beneath us is only fear of seeing nothing at all Catch a glimpse of yourself as you hurry off to nothing important and you struggle to gather worthless items valued only by those who feel incomplete insatiably grabbing all anyone else wants Fears of not having what others have, fear of not gaining what is prized most, this is what ascribes the dictates of beings who hoard everything to feel they have something other than the emptiness which devours their souls Fighting the listlessness contriteness makes we strike back by attacking those we know who share the same circumstances we endure cowardly yet they have the gall to appear contented so we destroy them to destroy ourselves The Haunting As I gaze at the reflections dancing across the surface of one of nature's many shallow pools, I feel as though I am looking at the ghosts from another time At the touch of my hand they scatter only to once again reappear as the waves slowly begin to quell and they reveal to me their stories for they know I need to hear them But these faces that do haunt me are not of strangers of long ago nor are their tales unfamiliar for they are the different ages of me and their dreams that did not survive They are in pools of rain and window panes and they will follow wherever I go until the day when I take them back if ever I decide to again be whole and no longer bar them from my soul Once is Me Once is me yet I am every time close at hand Over and under, above is below Neither I am, neither I know Yet and then, both are now Never was I, only how Once is me, more is less falling away from the crest to question why Our Legacy of Lethargy We live beyond our means and ponder this facts significance as we anesthetize ourselves upon computer simulated dreams, living a life of decadence defiantly brandishing our death song We are the highest form of civilization outnumbered by the rest of a dying humanity that languish in shanty towns feeding off trash as we grow fat in a cultural stagnation that cannot confront this abominable insanity dealt to us by those in a long irrelevant past Our toils are but few yet our needs and lusts are many as we feed off the carcass of morality stripping bare whatever is in view, killing those without even a penny and reveling in our own banality With a cannibalistic fervent we exploit the desperation of the masses fighting for resources long since dried by generations whose resources recklessly spent always gave priority to the upper classes which gained ground while the rest slowly died They were the ones who begot us as we inherited their wealth and brutality along with a wasted and worthless planet that shall soon be ground into dust so we earnestly accelerate this harsh reality and rape the few resources left without regret To Wit Yea, how the tables become turned by the clever ones deftly defying criticism for the abuses or misuses of their powers by exalting the common man who succeeded in helping others near or during their rein thus 'proving' that goodness always flourishes and those who cannot see it are blind Shies, the contemptuous praises be as the praiseworthy are owed their acclamation to the very perpatrators whose life long wrongs they sought with their very lives to undue, fated to have the enemies of their passions eulogize to all their struggles and erst putting it in a perspective void of truth Better they be not to be named or known than to have their virtues so valiently to be sung when hence the very meanings they bestow become tangled in minds by subversive retellings and having their chaste deeds done for good and all used to make good men doubt their own good will removing aspersions aimed at more obvious targets Automatons Man or machine, that is the question which remains to be seen Shielded by uniforms, we lash out beating and killing those who are our own brethren as we convince ourselves we have given up all rights to question why We poison and maim, all the while believing we are not to blame Behind desks and thick glass, we protect our jobs by following mindless regulations often hearing pleas from those that they destroy, sympathizing yet never helping Part of the system, we fail to rise above the limits of its questionable wisdom Filling the functions of some prepackaged lives we lose sight of needed changes and by identifying ourselves with socially programmed desires, we become something less than human Sword of the Slight Outside of the mainstream the ship of my soul drifts slowly away cast out upon the uncharted seas of isolation and unmet needs, cast out only for being different by being deficient in an aesthetic way carrying a face doomed only to displease No one speaks of it, of my incarcerating disfigurement which inevitably will draw their eyes as I invade the confines of the sight of the people in a picture perfect world grown accustomed to uniformity as enforced by the sword of the slight They smile as they turn away and say they are sorry but no, they do not think that I am the right one to suit their needs or to be of any help while continuing the unspoken catharsis of the submersion of the unseemly who cannot by numbers defend themselves Living the life of a pariah is a harrowing yet illuminating way to be as you see a great fear hidden safely away, a fear of ugliness or of imperfection in people too immersed in superficiality to know or care deeply for the minds within and blind to prejudice's subtlest manifestation the indomitable straits of time Motions Passing Motions passing, no one's asking how it all could be Days ending, new ones pending flowing eternally Onward time, leaving all behind never letting them be known Only facts, leaving no tracks except visions once shown Empty places, last embraces wanting to stay real Everything cries, its disguise breaks with fate's last seal Eclipsed The motions of the universe, so damningly precise and congruent mark the seasons of my life upon an eternal timepiece created by the spinnings of stars and mimiced by our watches gears But what of me, I shout letting my frustrations spill out to become absorbed by the blackness of the peaceful autumn sky which never breaks its stony silence to comfort or admonish me Left to wonder or to die by divine providence or cruelty I stand alone too empty to cry for everyone and for myself fated to be kept from understanding the purpose behind their pains In conquest or perhaps resignation I tune out the vastness before me as I slip further into unconsciousness falling asleep under a cloudless sky for the indomitable straits of time bind enough to destroy my hopes of understanding Moments of Repatriation There comes a time in everyone's lives when we cease to press on forward and then pause to take our bearing on where we are or where we are going The motions of the universe appear to halt and our very existences seem to hang in limbo while our minds take stock of our intentions and compare them with our lives thus far Out of the world and deep within ourselves we weigh the benefits and risks of returning yet we gain precious momentum by confronting the true desires we have for our lives As suddenly as it stopped, life starts again and the wheels of the world again turn pushing us on towards our destinations somewhat wiser and more self-aware Waiting Waiting for the perfect moment when all of the stars align and rapture lies only just behind that moment creeping up slowly from the soul up into the mind Waiting while thousands pass before you though you are blind seeing only what is yet to come, seeing only that some-other time which you might never live to find Waiting while wondering why you wait to live but not to die leaving all of the living left behind walking through today seeing only tomorrow with yesterday's dreams still driving your eyes Waiting without even knowing or knowing but not caring, you die each day a thousand deaths, a thousand lies for perfection lay in each hour, each minute with only your conception of it to give it its disguise Tomorrow Tomorrow I shall awake to the dawn of a brand new day unseen, unknown to any who live today and think and dream and believe that they know what with it will come or may as I too asleep to it still yet hail its new way and dare embrace, to touch, to taste in haste that which casts today away for the sake of forsaking this day that stays too long making me gaze longingly at unseen days and praise that which may bring only greater pains, to chance to lose, yes, but to chance to gain, is twice but chance to lose more of the same on into the sunset The Dark Horse Built like a mighty fortress, the dark horse rides asunder with its giant hooves tearing up the ground, making sounds like rolling thunder Relentlessly it surges forth like a vengeful demon of the night making all bear witness to its unbridled fury and its overwhelming sense of might Bound by the truth of existence and binded to an earth dominated by Man, it searches for escape the only way that it knows, by running as far and as fast as it can Running to every corner of the land, one and all will sometimes hear it as it thunders past seeking limitless pastures and freedom for its restless spirit Excelsior One by one I shall cut the ties which will bind me to the ground and I shall feel the pull of the heavens begging me to rise forth and come hither I shall sit in the comfort of my airship and watch the world fall beneath my feet while setting my gaze upon a far larger world whereupon the distant and unrelated become one As I look down from my celestial throne and revel at the expansiveness of my new sight I shall carry with me the hopes of the spoiled and the damned, as they bow before me longing to be set free Over boarders and barriers I shall drift away in my craft crowned by heat and golden sunlight and as countries and continents fade to a distant blur I shall learn true freedom at the mercy of destiny's winds Crystal Castles I live beneath crystal castles in the sky Castles waiting for me until the day when I can fly They are beautiful, too beautiful to be seen Instead you feel them in your heart and in your dreams Castles of wonder too magnificent to describe With towers of hope to make your soul come alive They fly high above us yet they are always in our reach Only love can take us there, love we can learn but never teach Lexicon Everyone anxiously jumps upon an antique train called Lexicon riding forth steadily toward the sun carrying all and sparing no one Out from the multitude of paths it surges forth leaving all else past accommodating all wherever they need go and showing them places only others know Those who are hurried share space with those who care not for a frantic pace as they sit together riding the same line, both reaching their destinations on time It brings together all and lets them share each other's truths and each other's cares as they enjoy the ride in comfort and style becoming closer with each passing mile On into the sunset Lexicon rides and at each stop its prominence presides as each young generation climbs on board eager to know the perspectives it moves them towards