And Ever I Go Onward

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Silent tears rolled down the boy’s face. His father laid one hand on the boy’s shoulder, gentle but firm, the other pointing into the distance.

“Where do I go?” the boy asked softly.

“Where we all must go. The journey is long and dangerous. But you are ready.”

“Why must I go alone?”

“We are all alone, my son.”

The boy tried to turn, but his father’s hand kept him firmly turned to the horizon.

“Go now, my beloved son. We will see each other again one day. Until then, look to the end, and walk, do not run, until you get there. Go. And no matter what you see or hear along the way, never look back.”

The weight of his father’s hand lifted. The boy took one step, and then another.

A dull thud echoed from behind and to the left, and the breeze carried his father’s voice, whispering the boy’s name.

“I love you, too, Father.”

The boy’s words were lost on the wind as he walked onward, his gaze never turning from the horizon.

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A sea breeze blows
carrying a sacred whisper.
A voice
recognizable
muffled by the sound of tears
falling silently.
The loudest sound of all –
the echo within a heart
still beating
with no purpose.

A sea breeze blows.
I give to it my last promise.
Remember
I am always here.
Ever searching on the breeze,
calling silently,
louder than the echoes
of waiting now and ever.
Just listen
and remember.

I Said “Good Day” to the Devil in Disguise

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When first I saw him, I was a young man,
no more than twenty and three.
He said she left me because of my past.
Her future lay not with me.
I asked for salvation, and he replied,
“With me now you must surely stand.”
He gave me a blade that I pressed to my wrist.
His smile said, yes, that’s what I planned.
And even through tears, his true face I could see.
I let the blade fall fast away.
“You are not the Angel, Sir.”
That I did say.
“And so I must bid you good day.”

When the World Was New

Those heady blossoms,
I can see them now!
Once, and only one more time,
I lie down
trusting
as one who knows the summer’s day is in my heart again.
How surely can one know
how and when and where and why?
Is it not the case that even
angels
fear to tread
where hope and rays of sunlight die?

Lost to the ages
is that special time in youth
when one has dreams of knowing
that which was and is,
and that which only happened
in the mind of one who never came this way before.
Who can remember
when darkness failed to stir
the dreams of dreamers in a fantasy of dread?
The deepest recess of imagined fear
cannot be the only place where every mind and heart
recalls the emptiness that came before.

Then one day,
I fear the last but one,
it all came tumbling down around the trees in some lost garden.
Oh, to feel again!
Why does a soul shy away from pain
when pain is all that can outlast the years?

If spirits come and go,
wanting,
there is nothing left to keep for any day besides tomorrow.
If only there were fears that bleed
the blood of every joyful and forgotten sorrow,
then could I guess
the end
of the one and only true beginning.
And this world could be lost
without shame,
without the guilt of doubt and tears and wonder.

There would only be the day
that comes both in the past and in the future,
when all will begin again.
New
but also old
for the final time
that is also the first.

Meet Me in That Nightmare Forest

I was walking a solitary path through a deep, dark forest. There were no sounds around me. I glanced left and right as I walked, but there was nothing to see except the trunks of trees so thick and tall no light broke through from the sky above, their bark so rough I thought my skin would be sliced open if I reached out to touch them. Despite the darkness, I was not frightened. I did not wonder why the leaves did not crunch under my feet nor did I ask myself where I was going. The path narrowed and curved suddenly but the forest barely seemed to change, no matter how far I progressed.

On a whim, I glanced back over my shoulder and was certain I could make out a lone dark figure following behind me, just coming around the bend in the path. Even though I could not discern any distinguishing features, I felt a deep aversion to that dark figure. It did not matter what it was or why it was following behind me. I dared not look back again, somehow sure that were I to do so, that figure would be even closer.

I looked down at my feet, overcome with the desire to walk faster, but they kept moving at a steady pace, and I was carried ever farther along that forest path. The ground grew suddenly steep, and the path widened enough for two people to walk side by side through the trees. I felt a surge of panic, as I could not quicken my pace as I started up the incline. Try as I might, I could not force myself to move faster and, even as my fear of the dark figure intensified, I tried to resist the urge to look over my shoulder again. The need to know what was coming overcame me, however, and I stole a fast glance behind me.

The dark figure that had been almost one hundred yards behind had gained on me by more than half that distance.

A certainty that I must quicken my pace gripped me like an icy fist. But try as I might, I could not force myself to move faster, although I did not grow weary or lose my breath as I climbed up that forest hill. I felt a chill run down my spine and I knew the dark figure was closing in on me. I lowered my head and pumped my arms desperately, but my feet stubbornly continued to move at the same pace. The silence around me was as the thickest liquid through which I attempted to push my legs, pressing on me from all sides.

It was at that moment that I heard the unmistakable sound of a footfall.

My heart beat faster and faster but my legs continued to walk with the same maddeningly slow stride. Another footfall, and then another, echoed in the dense forest of trees and my eyes rolled frantically from side to side as I searched for any route of escape from the path and the figure that pursued me. I stole one more glance back over my shoulder and saw the dark figure just ten feet behind me. It, too, seemed to be walking at the same, ever unchanging pace, yet it had gained on me so quickly. It was tall, but with no distinguishing features other than the long, long legs that carried it ever closer. When I turned back to the path in front of me, I saw that I had almost reached the top of the slope. More footfalls rang out, and I suddenly realized that the steps were not coming from the dark figure behind me.

They were coming from the hilltop in front of me.

Slowly, as though rising from inside the earth, you approached me from over the crest of the hill. At the very top of the path, you stopped and waited for me to meet you, your arms outstretched. Your face seemed to glow with a heavenly light that banished the darkness deep into the trees. Your smile brought hope to the lonely, never ending forest and you regarded me with eyes so full of kindness. I reached out my hands to embrace you just as the chilly breath of the dark figure gently grazed the back of my neck. It was then that your gaze shifted ever so slightly and I knew that you caught a glimpse of the dark figure that was practically upon me. Your arms dropped to your sides and your expression changed to one of such horror, your eyes wide, mouth straining to scream, your entire visage twisted into a grotesque parody of human emotion.

And then I woke up.

Upon awaking, I cried bitter tears, only not because of my fear of the dark figure in my nightmare or the eerie forest from which I could not escape. Not even because of the look of abject terror on your face that was the last thing I saw before emerging from a fitful sleep.

I cried because I longed to return to that nightmare forest and walk that path again. For it is only in the dream that I can remember your face.

The Dream

A tribute to Goethe.

I dreamed I found the golden goblet of that ancient king.
I turned it slowly in my hand and in my head did ring
a voice I recognized as his, that dear and sacred ghost.
He whispered softly, “Where is she, the one I love the most?”
And then I saw below me was a deep and dark blue sea.
My fingers opened and the goblet fell so silently.
As it disappeared I felt a tear drop from my eye.
If the king had lost his queen, was death the last goodbye?
All the years he waited with the goblet by his side
sure she would be waiting, too, the moment that he died.

Then in the dream I turned and saw the castle standing tall.
His knights on shining steeds approached the ivy-covered wall
And lo! Who led the palace troops, decked out in royal green?
None other than the loyal king and his belovèd queen!
They were e’er together in that castle by the sea!
But who, then, whispered in my ear? Who asked me, “Where is she?”
And then I woke still veiled in sadness and a certain fear
as thoughts of you ran through my mind, you who I hold most dear.
Will you want to come and find me even after death?
Or will our love just disappear upon a dying breath?

And then I heard the voice again – but it was not the king.
And my heart soared, for it was you, love surged in a wellspring.
I realized in that moment, then, that it was always you.
And like that ancient king and queen, our love is really true.

I will always wait for you, and you will come for me.
One life just isn’t long enough, but in Eternity
our souls will meet again in our own castle by the sea.