Truth? Haunting illusion; lying uncertainty; an argumentnever begun. UnderstandingNightmares, and dreams, of flyingSomewhere between the clouds and the earth far belowfears and aspirations; all that we do.Mathematical expressions about reality and being;Every place to which we never go.The way a stick in water is bentor the sun rising and the sky turning bluethe way it always has
Escaping Run away! Run away!Truth awaits; across the river waits,with open welcoming arms; reaching out, extended, embracing armsShall we turn away and leave her? Shall we flee now and abandon her?The mysteries now behind us draw; ever closer, pursuing draw,as if brought to us by fate: the ever fickle, angry fate.Life is naught but a question; a sometimes jesting, sometimes mournful questionto which we have as yet no answer; to which, perhaps, there is no answer.As though, perhaps, distiny herself separates question and answerfor the longing and confusion that define the unenlightened human life.
Angry Angry, we exact a tired, bitter titheof blood and fire, offering a thousand deaths;Young men sacrificed; Ashteroth's vengeance exacted; a generation stolen from their children's arms.Shall we bow and scrape, faces to the dirt,as the reinvigorated nobility pass? There's a hanging treesomewhere around the bend; lynchings are alwaysfun for all involved. Sitting in the temple, prayer shawlsbrushing the floor, one bleached lamb afteranother.Furious, we rail against all boundaries, but cringeat removal's horror. What is beyond is Cinderella's stepsisters: no eyes, blind and bitter as we inheritthe investment we made (
R_L An endless game; what class? Character?What world is this, in which we play?Move two squares (or hexagons; it doesn't really matter, does it?)And await the advances of innumerable opponents.There, on the hill, just entering range,Four hulking monsters, whose roars of hungerAre drowned out by a thousand 20-sided die rolls.A hit, a hit! Direct to the heart of one, and she fallsAnd the others breathe fire in their frustration.I run away, take my leave,Ring around the Rosie! Level up!Paladin, another victory.
Antietam Two young lovers, brash, fiery, yet far too experienced, facingAcross an empty field of yellow corn, wheat unthreshed, andA fence, white, and a sunken road, gray and blue, a rainbow,Blue eyes and gray staring through a prism, preparing to embrace, forever disputing, unready to reconcile.Banner brave, bright drum and fife play, rhythm and tuneCalling men and boys alike to come, join in the terrible Parade, from Sumter and Bull Run and Wilson's Creek toThe cold gray and green of this place and a thousandOthers, five years of blood and pomp and circumstance.With morning's cool light, walking, strolling, bearingHeavy burdens
Leaf A leafcrashes quietlyto earth andrests on the stillcarpet of itspredecessorsunafraidyet stillafraid to moveit lies softly anddoes not breakthe Silence.
a story This is a story about aman who walked orperhaps he was awoman but it doesn'tmatterbecause he walkedhe saw thingsthat made him smileand cry sometimesat the same timethat's ambiguityor perhaps its irony but it doesn'tmatterif a man walksor sees or talks or praysor whispers becauseone breath is all that is given between birth and death.So perhaps, walking is only that.
From the Earth... The boatman, wearing an off white leather lab coatand green crystal aviator's goggles,remembers to walk his three headed dog.His master Dante, quick to angerbut slow to sin, stands at the dockarguing with a man who fishes for coins.Rossum patiently awaits a division of labormuch in the manner of Leonardo.Walton, in the mountains and the city,frowns and smiles at Bartholdi's childrenand the factories.Henry, not Gerald, is ecstaticwhile the world falls all to ruinnothing remains but a gentle ride and an endless, smooth paved road.The angry Cyclops, eyeless, roars and throws a stone;Poseidon is at last avenged the
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