Warm Winters

The worst part of the winter is now over and now it's becoming more and more like spring each day. The weatherman on the Tv is always calling for colder weather coming. Somehow, I don't think that'll be happening anymore. This year is the year of changes. At least it is for me. It's the first year I actually start anew. It's my reinventing year and a year of actually making a name for myself. I actually don't care how hard it gets from here on in. I've lived through worse and now that it's over, I can see what I'm supposed to be doing and not having to be dragged by dead weight.

I've finished a section of my new book. For some reason I got hit with a rush of "The Urge" and I'm trying to see how long it will last. The title of it is pretty much set and it actually fits perfectly. I think once I've got this book out of the way, I talk more about the original project and how it actually got to this point. Besides, if you've been paying attention to my blogs for the last few months then you know what this book is for and what exactly I'm planning to do.

But moving on beyond that, I've been asked about a new poem. It's funny when people ask me when I'm going to post again. The truth is, I don't ever really know. Right now, it's 8:26 A.M. and for some strange reason, I am very much in the mood to create something. There was a thought I had a while ago about this vivid day-dream I have. Perhaps if I just wrote it down I wouldn't have it anymore. So that's what I intend to do.

Danzer...this one's for you.

Colored light brightening the hall
taking the shapes of the memories
etteched into the aged glass.

The room so filled with peace
the silence is thunderous.
The wooden seats all empty
and the robed speaker long gone.

A symbol of love and protection
hangs from the pale ceiling,
the figure on it in much pain
and though he shows it on his face
never in a million moons
will he ever feel it.

Below him kneels a figure
silhouetted by the darkness of the clothes he wears.
By his side, a rememberance of the oath he swore long ago.
Time has not been kind to it nor him.
As it has aged, so has his will to honor a promise
he made long ago
before the very figure above him.

The expression on his face
could speak the words of a thousand books
and could never express enough of what he's seen.
Without a word
he speaks to the figure which gave him
the strength and the will
to do as he has done for so many years.

Now,
in a room filled with the sounds
of souls long forgotten
and thoughts left unspoken,
he makes one last request
of a father he never met in person
but walked with all his life.

He reaches for the burden at his side
and casts it in front of him.
A promise is now broken,
the weight on a mind now removed.

The echoing clatter fills the hall.
Ringing forever in his mind.
Nothing left for him to carry
except the memories in his heart.

They do not clatter
like steel and stone.
They will linger
as a scar for all time.


Until next time.


© Archangel 2008