The touch of His blade caresses my skin,
as it tears open the plague of my flesh.
Entered His gate of Dark of Sunday morning,
broken clouds and tainted skies scatter Her holy hands.
Bodies flowing down His deep red rivers,
flowing to His sin soaked home of gathered rest.
Quiet sins whisper as the wind chills my hope,
lost is the light from Her holy pride.
Jagged walls and rusted chains,
mark the place of my prolonged shame.
Here in Dis I find the few,
the seven deadly sins of my life consumed.....
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"When heroes rise, share the burden of their lives."
Welcome
You might be asking yourself, whom is this Final Creator? I am not referring to our all mighty, but to the Lord of the Universe I have conceived in the folds of my mind. And that would be... Universe, the coalition of the first beings Uni and her brother Vast that formed with their home Space to form what is known in T.O.G. as Universe. Completely original yet constant to our own world; that is how we understand it. The Final Creator is something that we all have with in us, as we are the ones who lay the bricks that build the paths we decide to follow. And no matter where that path leads, as the mason the path may be shifted to our desire and willingness. Hope shall never be lost, nor the creativity in the hearts of man. That we all one day bring forth another usher of an enlightenment, a movement, another calling for a Renaissance of the Digital Age.
Brandee's Song - By MaceValor
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2 comments:
Zach, yes I do remember you! We met in Sun City and I know your mother. (She rides a bigbad trike)!
You can write me at my e-mail: dracoman11@yahoo.com
I will post a reply to your wonderful comment at my blog later as I just logged on to upload a new piece.
Nice work here, Zach.
One quick thing: Get into a writing program, some local classes, adult ed, workshop, whatever. Some place that you go with purpose of writing and being accountable, for critique (constructive criticism), a place that will welcome the many voices you are already writing in as a writer and the many to come for we are of many voices, not, as some would say, one voice.
I will share with you what I share with all my students as was shared with me: You will learn more from the mistakes of others than from your own. (Where writing is concerned). You will make many mistakes and it is as it should be. Risk and fail gloriously. But risk.
For only in that risking can you ever hope to summit the triumphs and victories that await only you. No one else can write your story as well as you can. Whether true or invented (which are often the same thing), you are a singular creator and no one can step into the soles of your shoes and walk your mile. Only you can do that. Never allow anyone to tell you any different. Never allow anyone to tell you you are wasting your time going down one path or another. For only you will ever come to know the value of getting utterly lost, that in being lost the journey becomes what is valuable, not the destination.
If you want a destination, take a bus that knows its own route. If you want to journey, walk within the stride of your own world and allow other worlds to touch and rub against, listen to them, observe them, feel them. Notice how like a rough stone tumbling in the trough of a deep stream, the edges soon smooth and polish.
You are young and there is yet time. Do not push the river. Let your life unfold and write everyday, something, anything. You response at Drachenthrax is stunning and I am honored to have been a small cog in a grander wheel. We are all small cogs. We are all part of a grander wheel.
I need those inspirations as you do. Therefore, cultivate and nourish your natural wonder and awe, hone your curiosity and never allow it to become ordinary and dull. Ask and investigate. Question and consider. Discover if what others tout as true and tried works for you, or does not. There are few absolutes in this world and everywhere exists variety and new expressions in the forms of life.
Learn to be still, to ponder, to measure yourself against the stars and recalibrate your true place beneath the unimaginable expanse of the cosmos. We are all an integral part of that colossal tapestry and fabric of matter.
The universe asks each of us artists, we writers included, to speak for it. It is the only way it can ever come to know itself. Avoid those things that would diminish you in detrimental and insidious ways.
Be afraid but do not allow fear to cause you to refrain from exercising courage. That is what courage is---not the absence of fear, but the presence of it in attempting something in spite of it. There are no shortcuts to the living of life, no backtrails or bullet trains to wisdom. You can expedite the learning by listening to those who have lived life, who offer the truth of their wisdom without expectation or undue reward.
Listen to them. Ask questions of them. They need you as much as you need them. You will know them because their words and actions will settle within you with a glow that is genuine and full of nutrient.
Write. And write more if that is what you are called to do. Lose sleep, go hungry, surrender petty things, sacrifice comfort, examine everything you come to regard as true and holy. We have to clear away to build and intuiting what to keep and what to cut away takes a lifetime.
And against all this seriousness---the overriding sense to have fun and laugh is paramount. Without humor and the ability to laugh at oneself, the river dries up and becomes brittle as perpetual winter.
Time takes time and Rome didn't burn in a day. Google up this word: Desiderata. It has served me many times in my life. And read some Vonnegut; a lot of Vonnegut. He was our most recent Mark Twain and he could tell a story like no other.
Thanks for your comment and thank you for your time in reading this. I hope some of it helps you somewhere along the way.
thank you for those words.
i have been writing non-stop as of late.
trying to type what i've worked on for so long.
progress has been very good.
i want to show you what i've done, but not until i finally finish the official chapter one and two.
its odd writing, i started off writing chapter one freshman year and now i've skipped around like a mad man, but its helped me.
its like the story has subtle changes every day.
the longest chapter, 7, is still not done, but almost all the others are.
i introduced mathematics into how i write the story, as the are several numbers that repeat themselves in significant ways.
well, i got school this morning, love the stuff you have put up though.
the thing you wrote about crayons made me want to write To Mother.
so i did and posted it.
Trials Grace.
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