Some say the eyes are windows to the soul. I look through mine, behind the grey and blue and green, into the world of the unseen.

I see a child before the years. Quietly determined to prove people wrong. A stubborn force, it shouts 'you cant keep me down, Im too strong'.

The words bounce around empty chambers, tombs plundered by those years. But that voice is is still there, hiding in shadows, behind fears.

I just have to find him again.

The snow fell silently in the garden of the bungalow, far away. The little boy lie on his front, on the old long haired rug, in front of the gas fire. He listened, transfixed, as the old man told one of his tales from another time.

He would describe places he was sent. Amazing giant cat men and royal graves adorned with gold and fine paint.

Somewhere in a far away land.

Hidden languages and signals. Radios and motorbikes, hushed missions in the dead of night.

Bruising tales of digging deep and finding resolve, skill and reflex, slip then counter, sporting glory, staying humble.

How he taught the newer generation. Coaching and encouraging, developing skills, giving them opportunities he dug out.

There were little silver men and medals on the shelves above the rug, tributes to skills and proud moments.

Sometimes he would point to one, a little twinkle in his eye and the hint of a smile, and tell its story.

The silver men and medals are on shelves behind glass now, preserved for many to see. Nothing fancy, just history in the corner of a room, where people shuffle by.

But the stories behind them, the essence that gives them their true meaning and value, are kept in only one remaining place. It carefully carries the light, so their sparkle and shine remains untarnished.

My mind.

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Note:

Not bad for a boy from the cement works, they said.

For my Grandad, never forgotten and forever loved.

Again and again relentless

Nightmare, unforgiving fear

Footsteps behind me, tip, tap

Phantoms, noises, nothing clear

Into dream

The Dragons Lair

Hateful visions

Recurring nightmare

Eyes rapid, tight shut

Sleep's realm no safe bet

Pressure, let me scream

Hold. Not yet, not yet

Not quite yet.

Trapped in a bad trip

A world so insecure

Familiarity skewed

Jagged and impure

Reaching for safety

None there in my head

Running from shadowmen

With legs like solid lead

Slow panic. cold, dank

Willing my feet to run

Gut wrenching feeling

That I am the bad one

Nearly upon me now

Like crawling through mud

Trying to find my escape

Through visions of death and blood

They're a second from me

The story ends by the lake

Tunnels of unspeakable horror

Climb faster out of dream. And Awake.

Scream.

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Note: I used to have bad dreams. The same one over and over again, for years.