Story Old as Time
It takes the whole nation to make a tyrant. And it takes a tyrant to make the whole nation wake up.
I want to tell you a story, about a corrupt human being drunk on power and gold (is there anyone who can't be corrupted by those two?) and I want you to listen carefully, even though the entity of history has this story written over and over again. We still fell for that king, so the story needs to be told again.
No one was immune to the seduction of the United Throne. It sat at the heart of the human continent. Surrounded by shining cities like jewels stitched to the night sky. He wasn't the only one to try and take it by force. But he was the smartest, he played on the fears of the people, the hate simmering just beneath the surface. He played at the sleep-walking subjects doing what they've been told to do with no objection. He played at the cynics, crying that no power could derange the current of time, no human was able to take the stylus of history and write whatever he wanted.
But night always comes to dawn. And the darkest times are the labor of the brightest lights. And so when he took the throne by force, a ripple went through the threads of time. It shook continents awake. It was, as everyone remembers it, the time to look in a daze at their surroundings, and to decide that this is not the way History will be written. And that that stylus is most honest when many hands join together to hold it.
I'll tell you a story old as time. I want you to stay awake, from start to finish, and then keep yourself awake after that. Because this story should never be forgotten.
How to Fight
You fight by starting small, in your own home or in your neighborhood. You fight when you do something good, when you are stubbornly positive in the grim faces looking at you from every corner. You fight by speaking up. You fight when you open up your heart for empathy, when you understand that the pain you once felt is now mirrored in another human being. You fight when you do what you need to do, what you love to do, because the world so desperately needs for actions done out of love. You fight when you refuse to be led out of fear. You fight when you learn. And when you stay up late to study or work. And when you kiss your loved one and hug your friend. You fight when you watch a movie because you need a good laugh. And when you converse with a book, and when you see a beautiful painting and let it touch your soul.
You fight when you take care of yourself, when you love your body and mind. When you show that love in action. When you kiss your scars and hold the body that houses your soul. When you forgive your own mistakes. You fight when you fail, when you know you did your best. You fight when you tell yourself it's okay, and when you stand up and try again.
You fight now. In this moment. Not in any other time.
Final Farewell
Pounding waves
scour the sand,
erasing lingering
remnants of
essence of you.
Moonlit rays waft
through still water,
touching down
in loving sobs,
embracing daughter
of the sea,
slumbering gently
swathed in
azure breasts
of ocean waters,
interlaced in hammock
of seaweed weeping.
Ocean solitude
gathers you
in loving arms.
Pages
Love will fold your pages
And mark you up;
Highlighting its favorite parts
And writing little messages
Where it knows you'll find them.
It will also forget about you.
You will spend days,
Maybe weeks,
Maybe years
On the shelf,
Anxiously waiting to be picked up.
Why won't love pick you up?
It said you were its favorite.
Favorites change.
Maybe it isn't in the mood
For you anymore.
But favorites change.
And it will favor you again.
No Fear
Fear I will not allow. It takes over the instant I am caught unaware. It chokes my throat and blurs my vision. It is unacceptable. I will not die a coward. I will die with meaning; protecting my family and friends, as is my job.
In the first hours when no one had yet to figure out what was going on I gathered them. I, a nineteen year old, convinced my family to trust me. My father and my young brother. My father was a usually brave man, but after seeing the fierceness of my face he followed without a word.
I am prepared. I am always prepared. I Protect and I Defend. He knew in that unspoken way that a father and daughter talk that I was prepared. He grabbed my brother and followed.
It is my fault for not making it to my friends house in time to prevent disaster. I drove like a demon from Hell. My little brother crying in the back seat my father sitting grim faced in the passenger's seat. Already the road was cluttered, but no obstacle would stand in my way.
Laura was my first stop. She lived the closest. After I warned and practically threatened my father and brother to stay in the car I got out. The screams were already all around and the monsters that people had turned into moved with hunger. It was something out of a horror movie. It was almost a programmed instinct how I slammed open the door and grabbed screaming Laura. She was yelling at the shapes that could no longer be called her parents.
It took all my effort to shove my frantic friend into the car and drive away without looking back. She cried and muttered and looked out the window with despair, but I kept my attention focused on the road. We had to get to Red's house before he was taken by the creatures. I heard a shout calling them Zombies, but this was too realistic to relate these things to a movie or book.
Almost as an answer to my prayers Red was safe. His toddler sister stood hiding behind his legs as he picked off the beast the ran at them with his bow. Being the best shot in the county was finally paying off. I drove the car into the creatures and screamed his name. Then we were all crammed in the car and driving.
Now here we are; a ragtag group that won't be taken. I will protect, I will make them survive, and I will never fear.
A Writer
Brave or scared, a Hero.
Neglected or cherished, a Sidekick.
Fake or real, a Politician.
Sinister or Benevolent, a Joker.
I am a Writer.
Abesnt or vigilant, a Father.
Sweet or mean, a Mother.
Creative or realistic, a Daughter.
Obedient or Rebellious, a Son.
I am a Writer.
I am a Villian,
Cevel and ruthless, but sometimes caring.
Yesterday I was Life.
Tomorrow I am Death.
But today and always
I am a Writer.
I can be anything and
I will be everything.
The Baying of the Hound
A hound of the Devil,
A creature above all,
One to revel!
Others trembled at It's power.
They feared It's mighty form.
It could kill and devour!
It's sheiks filled the night,
It's howls terrorized the weak,
Their safety died with the light.
Never will It's cries be silenced!
They echo through night and day,
Telling of It's violence!
Hell Hound with swift feet,
Baying in warning,
Soon the light It will defeat!
