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In
the house of Stone and Light - MIDI
"Chapters"
by Lee Manges
4 / 22 - 26 / 2002
When I look at my life, it is like a book filled with chapters - like any other
book.
In each chapter a part of the whole story is told but also like a great novel it
has chapters, which intrigue the reader and the writer as well. They turn back
to these chapters to recount when amazing things happened or suspense is
heightened... the zeniths of the story.
New plateaus are often reached, but those few pages that make a book worth
reading beckon one back.
Some songs refer to these as the "glory
days." In dreams, it is a longing to recapture
a moment in time. The 15 minutes of fame that some get to touch upon.
As the author you want to re-read those pages and in looking at them you polish
them a bit and in some cases hand out what you learned from it as advice...
experience which has been garnered in life's trials. Some will recognize
experience for what it is and garnish wisdom from it, others will say it is long
toothed boasting - let time tell.
Our personal books though are book marked for us in numerous ways. A song may
draw you to a chapter long ago written and bring it back as fresh as the moment
it occurred. A simple piece of fabric, picture, or any of a multitude of things
can cause us to flip to a chapter in the past.
Was it spring or fall? I remember the cloak and
dagger, followed by the dreams in the mists. The
stories of our lives are a thread in so many other stories of those other
authors we interact with. Some make our pen script in bold letters while others
allow pictures to flow to the page from a quill graced by angels. However,
unlike books we can flip our pages and write new chapters.
Daily we write new pages to our book, like a diary that no one can look upon -
except the author. So no one will ever see the beauty quite the way it was seen
at that moment by the author's eyes, but it will be there stored in the vellum
of our minds.
So what does my book hold? It would take a lifetime to tell the tale, or it
could be encapsulated into short stories depending on who was going to hear the
truth of my book. What will I write in the next? What about the future? Love,
truth, honor, success, and fame are what my pen lays upon the page now. If
someone walks with me into the future I will write more of the same.
If not, then it will be written in the air of the
night as shadows pass in darkened places. With the silence of a soldier, and the
promise of hope for the future - a world where fear and terror are held in check
or crushed.
Either way the book will end one day.
Then it shall do one of four things that I can think of.
One, it will simply close never to be read.
Two, it will be read and judged.
Three, it will simply unravel and become parts of
new books.
Or lastly, it will just show me that it and all its
chapters were but a chapter in an even larger book.
So I ask, "am I re-reading the chapters or
looking at them to gain inspiration for new chapters?"
Others would say I am stuck in a chapter and long to relive it or recreate the
pages in a new chapter. When others have touched upon what I have written in my
book, shared the same quill that wrote their history as well, then a bond has
formed. Those who walked with you in the dark and helped guard freedom will be
the only ones who understand the fondness of those memories.
Just because I don garb, find reminders of what has formed my book, and rekindle
memories of days gone by does not mean I live in those memories. It merely means
that they are a part of me. Will I ever do those same events again? No. Age does
limit some abilities, but grants us others - and wisdom.
When I make a jacket that displays my journey and adventure, it is not living in
the past but consider it instead a cover for the book. I want the world to know
that I did make a difference, and that I did not go quietly into the night...
like a spark the flares and dies. Is it showing off or vanity? Mayhap yes, but I
earned it. I walked where angels feared to
tread, and I looked into those places which others
dare not look.
It has been too long that my spirit has been at
war, and some say I should awaken the child inside.
I cannot awaken a spirit, which was laid to rest the first time I drew blood. Then
they say I should allow the spirit to bathe in the water and wash away the sins,
yet I would say they are my sins and my burden. I
know where my soul is and where it walks along this crooked path. I have asked
for the wisdom, I posses the key - the door is
already open. It is a shame that others cannot see my house of memories and
light, and that I enjoy looking upon my book of life within.
I could write chapters on love found and more, of romance,
and friendship, and so much more. Maybe within the pages of this site you will
catch a glimpse of a life which has done so much, but is ready to do so much
more.
Chapters - the book of my life, and maybe yours.
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