cryptomancer

With the calm arrogance of a star, a clean shaven stranger enters the cabaret room. Dressed in a white, loose fitting, buttoned shirt and faded blue jeans, he casually surveys the room, smiles to himself, and relaxes, glad that the inhabitants of The Pen are not yet familiar with his reputation, or his looks for that matter, even after the single interrupted broadcast of his latest attempt at television stardom. The stranger approaches the appointment parchment for the truth seer, and draws out a small silver wand from the second button of his white shirt, and in a smooth flowing script, (resembling the scuff marks of a raven sliding over a freshly waxed car roof,) signs his name. Replacing the wand on the clip in his shirt, he turns, again noting the surroundings, and occupants of the room, acknowledging those that make eye contact with his searching gaze by smiling a smile of pure charm, his dark eyes sparkling with pleasure at being noticed. Then, his observations complete, he leaves, a shadow enveloping him as he reaches the door, fading to the flutter of wings outside.

Ok, question.... I work weekends, so sunday is my friday, monday is in fact my saturday, but as I have to work this monday, it is in fact my friday, being the fifth consecutive day that I have worked, making tuesday my saturday, that I am working, so wed, being my next day off is really my saturday too, and tuesday is therefore my friday, thursday is my monday, making friday tuesday, but I actually have saturday off this week so friday is in fact my friday, and saturday is in fact my saturday, making sunday my monday because I have to work, meaning saturday is in fact my sunday as well. so my question is...... When can I post in this thread?

"Oh she never hurts anyone, just the minions at her disposal, but is good enough to keep me alert to her thoughts." Quothe the araven in the corner with the can of coke. "Fun to watch though, she weilds the blade soooo very beautifully." *grins*

One of the dark splotches on the wall relaxes and crumples to the floor, slowly the Raven starts breathing again. and picking up the slaughtered remains of his can of coke mutters. "Damn, I need to be more careful where I sit." Moving to the opposite corner of the room, quietly, but quick enough not to get noticed too much, the Raven sits and opens another can of coke.

The Wings Of Darkness Dark blood of horizons death spilling over the edges of night, Soaking the flesh of the planet in its dying breath As the wings of dark beat upon the evening’s dawn. To the air I take and cherish the freedom, That is mine in darkness’ veil. Upon the wings of dark I flee the land of pain, The shadowing desert of a misused life. Upon the wings of dark I gain the life I wish. Freedom to glide in the night air, seeing Beneath the wings of dark the life I leave behind. Loving the taste of adrenaline upon my tongue, The caress of stimulation in my veins, The thickening of blood in my heart, As it steels itself to my flight. Movement, Longing, Flying, Fleeing. Upon the wings of dark I fly, Upon her strength I live. In her embrace I hide For the light cannot understand my choosing, Nor accept my longing cry.

Ok, I used the numeral the other time. *grins* Seems it didnt work either. Maybe I need to watch the use of slang.

The 'k' in context was meant as 'Five k', as in 5 km the distance traveled, I was unsure how to Express the slang phrase, so I left it as a single letter. My thoughts on this were to use the numeral for the five. I think it may have made it clearer if I had. Thanks.

Ok, first my religious background. Born baptized and raized as a methodist, (middle name Wesley) very methodist. spent sundays of my childhood learning the path of christian belief from the protestant point of view. At 14 I comitted myself to a personal relationship with the Lord. To this I still hold. Spent 3 years at University, studying the art of drinking, got kicked out ater my third year, spent a long time looking into the reflected image of myself, seeing myself in light of a belief system that I was not living. To this end I asked questions, asked for clarification, and got answers from only one place. In my final year at uni, I became Catholic, because for all the strife and errors of humanity in the greater organisation, well, they were the only ones that gave me the doctrine that they proclaimed. The belief system on which the faith was based, and the answers to my questions. Some of the answers I did not like, but I have a choice, as we all do. Humanity has the greatest gift. Free will. Spirituallity. Here I show my nature. I believe that there is a spiritual side to life, it is something that I cannot deny. I have seen it, experenced it, and use it in my life. One of my recent posts, "vision from a treetop" is an account of one such experence. I have had others. I freely use meditation, and sprituallity in my training, my life, and strongly believe that I am able to augment my physical strength through spiritual focus. I have visions that explain things to me, I see things that later happen. No I do not think I am psychic, and cannot see what I wish. But I believe I am shown things, some I hope never happen, but if they do, I will be able to deal all the better with them for knowing.

Cutting of the Heart Tonight I cry the grief of my torn heart, The depth of empty longings, Seeping through the cuts of love’s blade. All I have I give freely but lose myself to the wind. All I am I trace to the depths of my being Losing sight of my heart as it is broken in two. Drowning in the storms of dreamlessness, I find nothing but the pain of my failings, Just the emptiness of my own soul, Looking to the joys I should have, That cuts me with that single edged weapon, The pain I cannot escape, The wound that never heals, Through my choice to love, My choice to hold the shards of my soul, Shattered by the choices I made. I never cry out, emotions never escape. But my soul lies in shadow, For the love I seek I can touch, but never embrace.

Silken tops of misting cloud Upon my soul cresting, For it flies in the dark of space, Amid the stars of ancient, And the songs of creation. Sing for the beauty that lives In the souls of mortals, For they possess the gift Of knowing and love And in their folly ignore it. So I send my soul freely Seeking the truth. Of love and of beauty, Of life and rebirth. Finding it in the arms Of one that I know. Knowing it in her eyes, The colour of my sky, The depth of heavens unknown.

I slipped past the gate, lost in the music from the minidisc, screaming its lullaby into my mind. Today for my amusement the mixed variants of metal, jazz, pop, and a portion of techno, mainstream stuff, nothing to obscure, just the normal everyday listening of a young mind. The energetic finger tapped guitar of Eddie rang clear as ‘hot for teacher’ danced my eardrums across the wooded floor of thought. Escapism in music, again, well, I enjoy it, and that is what I want right now. By the time van Halen had given way to Duran Duran, (No no, notorious) 80’s synth moving my feet as much as I was, the paved sidewalk had given in to the tangled scrub, a headland loomed alongside my path and I jumped the seawall, landing on the shell strewn beach. Five k around the point before the tide traps me, time starts now. Moving with practiced easy over the rocks at the edge of the cliff face, I descended to the network of trails and hurdles that made this so much fun. Shirt off, my signature 501s and an unpolished pair of military boots, music and sea air, hell this was my paradise. Timing the song choice, I was good, thoughts and music combined, ‘…an acre of land, between salt water and the sea shore …’ I laughed at the stupidity of making true love jump hoops for you, good movie though, should watch it again. The rocks gave way to the first of the empty coves, an shelter of beach in the cliff face, mine for now, nobody come here unless they liked the thought of being trapped for the turning tides duration. Sanctuary for a day, as far as it was known I was out, they stopped asking after I spent a day on the rock off Music Point, flat and sun drenched, good fishing, and after the lecture on telling them my ETA, I learned to be vague in all but the time of my arrival home. It was 9am; I said I would be home about 8. More than enough time to find myself trapped, alone on a deserted beach. But not this one, my target waited around the point, better move, before the water had me swimming the last half. The beginnings of summer had the normal effect on the locals, two k up the point and the stairs cut into the cliff gave fishing access to the rock, to crowded now, every man and a few dogs too, a beach resort for the fishing inclined. I left the sunbathing girls at the foot of the stairs, the one in black, mmm nice, flirtatiousness calling me to take her with, music moving me away, today it was just me. I said hi, as I rounded their perch, and smiled my charisma at them, they would there again, I could flirt later. East side, no wind, thanks to the prevailing westerly, I laughed at my nature, and took my dancing to the rocky terrain again, 1 k and I was there. Safety in my secluded rest, alone till the tide drew back from the cliffs again. I could train. My stash of collected items sat in the cave in the first turn of beach. Still there, untouched, I dug it out of the oilcloth coverings and after the third layer withdrew the katana from its home. The blade catching the light of summer and reflecting it into the deep brown of my eyes as I admired its live edge and bronzed guard, traditional black hilt, and sheath, strong enough to use in combat if needed. The other items I took time examining, leather bound notebook, hand made, and the pouch of coins, three gems (diamond, ruby, and a sapphire) and a single silver wand, engraved with the triple dual names of my life. The last unit of solitude was measured in the chainmail, dropping to mid thigh as it settled onto my body, lined with polar fleece, worn as a tunic, one part modern materials, one part old school fighter. Modern alloy, strong and light, lined and warm, but breathable, it came to letting me sweat. The tide sealed me off from the city, now for the tricks of my training. Drawing the wand, I wrote the nine symbols of my dual names in the ether, letting them glow with the life of summoned thought, I whispered the request to the circle they formed and spinning together they gave the answer I wished for, passage. I was known, here I was known. Into the portal I stepped, my passage marked by the falling of boots onto iridescent sand, reflecting the energy, melting to glass under the straining of power. Silver threads of the paths radiated from my doorway, my memory calling the mapped lines of my bedroom wall, the scribbled notes, and the quoted rumors. Three left, second fork, turn right at the crossing of the sixth line, enchant the rhyme, exit the void, new world awaits. Walking this place was a matter of thought, following a path was just, knowing it well, travel was instant, think and you shall be there, hesitate and loose yourself. I stepped twice, and boots imprinted themselves in the soft grass of Serach, meadow of the Cathedral Cave, arena of the chosen. I walked to my third test, my tutor and the ancients watched my movement along the contoured ground, the crowds gathered, and waited, outworlders were a commodity, and the fights were worth the cramped conditions. Acknowledgement given, I waited, the blade housed in its confines, awaiting my call, the diamond in my palm, ready to unleash the rune carved into its heart. “Third you shall be tested with the fire of desert storms.” Silence, “the challenge commences” the roar of the crowds fall deaf to my ears, as the twin opponents enter. Fire of desert, Dragon, very small, red hard fight for one, but manageable, the second, a red robed figure, staff, no blade, a cleric, interesting, test of magic, this will be hard. Two step apart, fifty paces from me, no chance of surprise, sword remained in its home, dragon first. Training takes over, tutored skill and instinct intact as they chase the thoughts of failure from my heart, and strengthen the resolve of success. Walk, careful, steady, and then, hands clasp left over right, at my waist, no tricks today, just the approach of conflict. At twenty feet the breath comes, dive, roll, stand, cleric behind dragon and suddenly as I can, the only opponent in my path, shielding his colleague, bears the force of my attack, “ice for the fire, gem for the beast, heart of cold, on the flesh to feast.” The diamond flew true, and the enchantment broke past the walls of crystal, ice gripping the red scales of draconic hide, followed by the bite of blade as, drawing it true, single twist, and the cut opens on the neck, not deep enough, but a good start. Turn, thrust, ducking under the ripping claws, and the beat of wings, ice melting fast on the ground as more breath scorches its grip, charring skin as its lips kiss my flesh. Sapphire, into my mouth it slips, under my tongue, the cool healing of its spell, filling my body. Ruby left, not for today, this is a time for blades, and symbols. Two handed grip, twisting the steel edge to the small circles of twin cuts, up then right, block the claws and then the neck again, deeper this time, next time, maybe, duck the twin strike from the wings and , in the instant dark of draconic embracing, thrust, turning to the right, and exit the blade downwards, death stroke. Too easy, that was not right. This dragon was very young, no training, only instinct, making my test the cleric. Magic verses blade, never a good thing, I dislike the disadvantage it gives me. Ruby for this one, sapphire still has some potency, enough? We see, soon, we shall see. Staff, slowly it raises, slowly the chant reaches my ears, then, six, damn, mirror, not good, six to hit me, only one I can kill, relax, and think, this is a test of the mind. The first two test the body, the third tests the mind, think. The calculations of range, the parry of strikes, counter, hitting air, again, but now only five, two to go then I strike, three rush Two vanish in a curving arc of metal, under the swing of the staff, the fourth hits my legs. Grounded, flight aborted, ruby in my hand, soon, rolling to the left stopping at the feet of the last, the third and fourth closing in, block, frantic, I hate fighting from my back, pain shoots through the ribs in my right side, the sapphire cools the heat, the pain dulls, and in the aftermath of the strike, the ruby flairs. Flames engulf us all. The three images flail against the feeding energy, imitating the true opponent, two vanish the third left standing, drops to the ground, the charred flesh filling my lungs. The heat of my chain cutting into my skin, my denim scorched to the flesh of my legs, weeping burns across the extent of my frame. Sapphire seeps its cool healing into the damage, freeing my torment a little. The burns dull to an angry red, hair still gone and they wonder why I shave, stops the questions about how I lost all my hair in a day at the beach. I collected my spare 501s from my tutor, he laughed at the self inflicted injury, and told me to travel safe. I got home late, they think I am silly to spend my day in the sun on the beach, without sunscreen, I agreed, that would be silly, that would be very silly.

“……………..!!!!!!!!” The wordless scream of frustration was the parting shot. It ran from his mind through his teeth, ever as the cold winter air bit into him, feeding voraciously on his anger. He didn’t remember the driveway, or the first two kilometers of road through the jungles of suburbia. His anger flowed free, not him, not him; he had better control than this. Just after mid winter, clear night, no clouds. Typical of nights in the cool subtropics, clear sky, gave birth to frosts, so tonight for all its beauty, froze him. The cold numbing him, drawing off the anger, considering his attire, just a cotton business shirt, Levi 501s, sneakers, the two rings, one on each hand, and the chain, his charm as a pendant, small earring; nothing that the wind could not chew through to get to his warmth, dissipating it in its mouth along with his anger. He knew the roads; he ran them for fun, for fitness, mostly to unwind. At this point, hell turning around and walking three kilometers home didn’t appeal. His mood was the sullen mask of melancholy, annoyed at his own outburst, 14 years of control on the emotion and he lost it so fast, once his fuse lit. Walking back now was not a good plan, he needed to control it all again, retying the bonds, replacing the locks on the shattered confinement that had held it for so long. His meditation came fast. Practice and the cold focused his mind, relaxing against the shivers and chills of winter. Mentally his colour changed from the glowing embers of his emotion, to the cool dark blue of his element. Air; cold and comforting, and as his body lost its heat, so his mind gained strength. He felt the energy surge hit his system as the first of his charka gave to his mental control, the second and third boosted the awareness to his preferred levels, opening the doors to his observant nature as the levels of focus grew. The third charka, his second favorite to unmask, gave its disembodiment to him, gifting his limbs with the tickling of external fields of power, letting the lines of energy around him flow over fingers, and hands as he reached to touch. Heart, voice; then eye, his most powerful, the giver of sight of his nature, the giver of visions, and dreams, opened to his call, filling his mind with the awareness of the starlight, the fading moon waxing to its half. As the power completed in the opening of his seventh, the flow became visual, a spike of light from base to roof, linking his body to the sky, planting his foundations in the synthetic rock of the pavement. He glowed, and his surroundings grew to daylight brilliance as his awareness and focus peaked. The fifth measure of his journey found him on the potholed road leading to the cliffs of the peninsula, which held his home at its base. The golf course, was deserted and dark, completely unlit, shaded by trees, and the surrounding waters of the gulf from all but the winter breath blowing from the Antarctic south, kissing his skin with memories of ice. Darkness and air, his friend, his element, good companions tonight, and his need for company was great. The life of the grass shone to him, the trees iridescent in the near midnight atmosphere. Extending himself beyond the physical confinement of his shell, he touched the life around him, feeling its energy flow into tired limbs, energizing the fibers of his being. Removing his shirt, he tied it to his belt, his skin shone in the glow of energies surrounding him, and as he stopped at the water feature in the 13th hole, he smiled for the first time. Lying down in the dew, he soaked in the flooding power of nature, watched the water of the pond gleam and change, caressing the shore of its cage, and drinking the energies of the plants at its edge. The grass, trees, and weeds in the pool’s rim, fed on the light of the cool air, and the shimmering liquid. His body became a inconsequential vessel, air and water flowing over his skin as the dew settled upon skin, and the grass poured its life into his relaxing muscles. This was better, focus and control always felt good. Sitting up he reached out his mind and touched the trees around his dark sanctuary, opening the doors to his centre, opening the core of his power to the kiss of nature. The trees called in a soft vocalizing of leaf and air, kisses of wind on bark, his body moved, no thought just flow, just the will of power guiding him again. Shell of man touched the dark skin of plant, pine, tall, free, and his spirit leaped, climbed flew, and at the tip, the pinnacle of wooden life and deep rooted age, he stopped. The air through the trees wrapped his empty form in the blankets of winter dew, cooling his rage, softening his soul as he stood, free, upon the treetop. Breathing the sea air, seeing the glory of creation through the sight of his sixth charka, tasting its power as it unleashed its beauty upon his bare soul. Looking across the empty waters of the Hauraki, to the islands and northern city lights, giving contours of man to the curves of natural shape, he stood and watched, learning of beauty, seeing the love of life kindle in the fires of his being, knowing the powers that walked with him, training his sight allowing him to see, to know, to be a teacher of those that denied it. He went home and apologized, kissed, held, cried, and life renewed itself around the small wounds. Pain dulled, and left. But he still remembers his view. Upon the treetop, in the golf course on the point, his soul learned of the power of beauty. He saw with the eyes of his soul the glory of life, he touched the power of creation, and walked home, a new man.

My thanks... I didn't find the wait too unbearable, I had coffee... *grins*

Lady luck loosened lintels, forcing them to fall, Furrowing a fissure, from within the earthen wall. Landing lightly on lock and knob, breaking open a dainty door, Letting little kitten lightly stalk the threshold floor. Born beyond beginnings birth, Boundaries brought by banished thought. Lonely longings deserted, By localized love enchanted, crying Kisses keeping certain quests conquered. Beach blonde babe bathing in briny bay, Bikini baring body, barely bothering To contain certain curves covered by caressing waves.

You write with a passion and a message. With the emotive connection to the reader, showing both sides of a story. Life tought me the pain of loss from both sides, I love poems that touch deep, reminding us of life, Letting us know we feel. I would love to read more.

Loss Everlasting touch of loneliness upon my soul, And the chill of mourning’s caress Massaging the tension of grief from a lost heart. Dream's Reply I asked the dreams of night “What will become of me?” She spread her wings, took flight And said “wait ‘til the dawn and see.”

Lost Love as endless as time. Can fill, or empty hearts With the same touch. Love as endless as mine. Seen voiced, in both hope and dream. And in its embrace I am torn asunder. Seeking two paths, but The darkness is where I wander. And both lights call my soul. Where shall I go? Lost, alone, As time will show. I Wish She Knew Kiss of beauty upon the eyes that light the very sky, With visions of pure and true wonder. A visual delight that conquers the heart, Fills the soul, Sets the motions, and motives of the mind On the path to learn, to know To find the source, of such peace filled, And lovingly pure beauty. Radiating and embracing A young and wonderful woman. Light of Beauty Can a lamp see the brightness of its own existence? Can it gauge its own brilliant beauty? Can it witness the beauty it creates in others? As its light caresses the hidden, Revealing it to a dark world. It radiates true, pure light, Unashamed, unafraid, But does it truly see That which it’s very existence Its life, its beauty Creates for me. Flirt The quickness of Flirtatious smile. And in the welcome Contact of hands A wink of charisma To complete The spell.

This is NOT to be taken literally. Stepping outside your comfort zone is one thing, Tempting Death is another. Risk Step out upon the ledge, Tap dance upon the railings Blow kisses to the midnight air. And if you are on the fiftieth floor It is entirely better. Remember, not literal.

Embrace Beauty whispers her innocence With a gentle caress upon my heart. A touch that leaves her haunting image In my mind, And the longing desire to once more hold her, And upon my skin feel her breath And the warm beat of her heart Beside mine. Wish Hunt Hunting the shadows of my heart, Blowing kisses to the shade, Living the darkness of my soul, Loving its secluded, hidden ways. Touching the power of the mind Asking its images to reveal, Seeing all I want, all I wish to steal. Love Twice Missed Being without all I love in this world. Solitude extreme, whispered longings Unfulfilled, kisses blowing to the unseen. Missing half I love the most, Missing half again the same, Loving, knowing, half shall return And I shall hold her then, again. Missing, knowing all the more, And feeling love’s pain. Loving half I miss the most, Not knowing when I can hold her, And let her kiss, my longings tame. Love's Winter Ah, wind, my friend! Your hands embrace, With icy love, My shattering heart. Soft kiss of ice Across a barren soul. Caressing cold, upon my brow. Your lips steal my breath And taunt me with how fast All can end, but love.

True insight in the lines of poetic verse, you write well, fairest of elves. It seems I need to seek out more of your work, I look forward to reading anything new aswell.

Meditation on a Moment Sit upon the rocks. All I wish for in this world lies at my side. Sit under the sun, Letting the light and warmth ignite the deep and longing passion Hidden in the well of my soul. This is my place of dreams. The touching place of three elements. The resting place of all I wish for. Water, rock, air, under the sky All I dream is here. And all I wish for lies at my side. Arms around me, head upon my heart. And my soul cries For this time to never end.

Love's Haunting What darkness is this that in my soul I find soaking? Charming my time upon this world with its shadows Of dreamlessness, and the pain of unquenched wishing. Am I to stand in the shades of my making? Toil in the dreams I have before me? And yet upon my waking, find naught but the smoke of visions, And the dreamless nights of sleeplessness, breathing the air of dark. Love shines its beauty upon me, I feel her touch. Love whispers her secrets to me, and my heart beats. Wish my soul to follow, send my heart to her, In the guise of my shadow I fly the nights. For in my heart I see her, and shall forever know, That love is my longing, as my darkness ever shall show.

Yes, I am in love. My thanks for liking my scribblings.

As he waits, the Cryptomancer traces a symbol on the air beside the earthen chair that holds his relaxed pose. The symbol transforms slowly, expanding to from a side table, complete with coffee machine, cups, and a small jar of biscotti. As the machine draws a restreto shot, Cryptomancer produces a small silver wand, and a satin covered book, opens the book about midway through, and begins to write, the wand trailing a shimmering black ink, flecked with silver, onto the page. The smell of fresh coffee starts to permeate the air around the recruiters office, Cryptomancer inhales deeply, while enjoying his third espresso.

Tonight I sit alone with the madness My mental storms, feeding Upon a lonely heart. Drift upon the waters of thought, Unforgiving, windswept, oceans Of calm less liquidity, Posing as dreams upon my wakened brow. The suffering of a romantic, Without his one to romance. The darkening of night Tucked into the sorrowful void Of a lovesick soul. Homeless, without my lover, Loved but away from home. Cool covers contain me, Empty without her warmth to embrace. Love of a life remembered. Missed untill tomorrow, I shall see her again.