Step into the light

No,
They cannot and will not
Break these bonds
Crush the flame
Render darkness in this our world

Let them try,
With their falsehood and
Green-eyed words of hurt
Those dagger tongues and envenomed
Spleens

This, our world, our sun and our moon
Our universe
A night blanket sewn with a million stars
The shared gift that none can steal
Though they shall try

Be strong,
I shall shield you, as you shield me
This our bond, our promise, united
Against the battering hordes beyond
Who seek to come within

Take this,
This spark, this light, my illumination
To throw back the shadows in the corners
Expose them for the falsehoods they are
Banish them, cleanse them, cast them away...

You and I,
Let us take clasp hand in hand
Take that step, the first step, by far the most difficult
But the one that above all else is true;
Step into the light,
Leave the dark behind.

The Power of Fire - Sampler

The man dressed in black was not a holy man. He wasn’t there to hear confessions, absolve sins, or offer words of comfort to the dead and dying. Such salves he found contradictory. God had left this realm centuries ago, leaving both saints and sinners to sort their own mortal leave-taking.

            The holy man who was in attendance at today’s function was typical of his ilk. He tiptoed in sandaled feet, speaking in soft monotones punctuated with genuflection after genuflection. While he sought to school his features into a mask of calm, fear rode his back just as surely as the thick weave of his dark cassock. Despite supposedly possessing the secrets of the hereafter, this man feared Death as much as the mere mortals for whom he prayed. And Death currently held court in this tiny hovel in all its mysterious and fearsome glory.

            This was Death: the body on the cot, skin sallow, taut around the edges of the mouth in one final grimace. The eyes were open, looking up blindly at the thatched ceiling, and the mouth was slightly agape, a blackish-purple tongue tip protruding through puffy, barely parted lips. There was no serenity in this tableau, no peace. It was the antithesis of the paradise the holy man promised.

            Dying wasn’t much better. It was a cacophonous symphony of coughs, splutters, moans and groans, interspersed with curses, prayers and delirious ranting. It was shivering as if cold, but burning with fever. It was alternating between being lacquered with clammy sweat and having skin as parched as a desert. Most of all, dying was being held prisoner in your own body while an evil bacterium ravaged it.

            Marcus Dire could quote rafts of information about the plague. He could take the physicians and holy men by the hand and lead them down the swift and brutal road from infection to mortality, outlining symptoms, offering suggestions for treatment and advice on effective quarantine measures. Yet he didn’t. He couldn’t. Having such knowledge was akin to having a noose around your neck; sharing it would be pulling the lever and letting the trapdoor drop beneath your feet.

            So Dire said nothing. He nodded at the appropriate times, as both the physician and then the holy man explained in their limited ways the steps they were taking to control the scourge. He listened to both prayer and prognosis, secure in the knowledge that were he to offer even a thin sliver of his knowledge, he’d be executed for heresy.

            It was a uniquely impotent experience, watched from a point of detachment somewhat alien to Marcus Dire. Still, he bore the experience with stoicism, and when the half hour tour of duty was complete, allowed himself to be led out of the front door to where his carriage awaited him.

            “Rest assured,” the physician promised. “We will do everything within our power to control the spread of the pestilence.”

            Dire nodded, offered a tight smile that was an outward display of reassurance. “I shall report back to the Queen,” he said.

            The lie came easy, as all lies did with practice. The carriage had barely begun to move when Dire signed the piece of parchment. Come sunrise tomorrow, the hovel, its inhabitants, and those unfortunate enough to be tending them would be history. He didn’t even blink at signing what was effectively a death warrant. It was a necessity. In a place such as Thalesia, where ignorance ruled, it was sometimes better to be heavy handed.

            Especially when there was so much at stake.

Imagine a man

Imagine a man with eyes colder than blue

Imagine what this man is able to do

Picture this man inside your mind

Look beyond the coldness in his eyes

What would you do

If this man was you?

Imagine a man with a layer of ice in his heart

Imagine him clawing his way back to the start

Picture this man inside your mind

Look beyond the coldness in his eyes

How can this be?

This man is me.

What would you do?

Would you dust off his jacket and set him on his feet?

Would you feed and clothe him, make him up real neat?

Or would you toss him aside like the dog forgotten the bone?

Or would you take him in... and welcome him home...?

Imagine a man with a smile and sparkling eyes

Imagine him smiling that way to you all the time

Picture this man inside your mind

Like you’ve seen it a thousand times

Could this man be someone?

Could this man be me?

I don’t know.

But I’d sure like to find out.

Would you dust off his jacket and set him on his feet?

Would you feed and clothe him, make him up real neat?

Or would you toss him aside like the dog forgotten the bone?

Or would you take him in... and welcome him home...?

Kiss

This is my heart
Beating in my chest
And this, my breath
Held these last few seconds
Here, my hands, my fingers, to touch
The softness of your hair
And now, my lips
To kiss...

And here, your heart
Racing, as we stand chest to chest
A soft murmur, an exhale, a sigh
This long drawn breath
As your soft hands and softer fingers
Over my skin, with a soft caress
Lips close the gap between us
This our first kiss.

Into The Blue

Say it is true

This love for me and you

Point the ship on its course

Into the blue

Strangers no longer

Passion ever stronger

Bravely into the wind

We turn

Watch the sun sink into the sea

Your head resting on my shoulder

Out here in the blue, timeless dreaming

Colours brighter, hues much bolder

Painting colours never seen, children playing

With the decadence of time

Say it is true

This love for me and you

A millions stars in your eyes

No longer blue

The clock only moves forward

Come on,
The hurt can't be that bad...
Can it?

I hear anger in the voice I imagine
But it is only words on an LCD screen
Laced with vitriol
And the lingering fragrance of jealousy...

Blame? Yes. It's easy to foist that onto someone else
Make them take the hit
And the fall.
Then chalk it up as another failure.

And that monster lurking behind your steely gaze
Smiles inwardly, content, satisfied
At the blood it has spilled
As your lipsticked mouth curls into a cold grimace of distaste...

...yet, that choice was yours as much as mine.
There's your bed, you made it,
Just lie there and suffer.

The clock only moves forward
And I've laced my boots to venture forth
Shut your mouth, swallow your pride
I've already closed that door.

Under a Blood Moon

Under a blood moon, we kissed
This fortuitous sign in the sky
I held you near, measured the faith of your heart
Beneath this watchful eye

As two, we loved, you and I
This first time, under a blood moon
Even as she waned, and bid the world goodbye
Even though the moment passed too soon

Let us abide here, until the end of time
This precious moment, this celestial sign
Bathed in crimson, under a blood moon
Our love, our destiny, a heavenly design

No vainglorious sun, or self-important braggart star,
To mar this, our love, under this eye, forever true
Let this chance bind us, heart to heart, for eternity
Under a blood moon