cryptomancer

And so the end falls gently upon the soft floor,

Foam from the last waves of life sinks slowly away,

Dark sands disperse and times falling grains dismiss,

No longer that meaning there, the passing complete.

Slow ebbs the breeze of eternal breath,

Always seemed too long to hope,

Forever lasted less than life,

Eternity now can pass away.

Ipsa qvidem pretivm virtvs sibi

Payment for denial of vice,

But who dictates the paid price?

Res tantum valet quantum vendi potest

And so in virtue one should aspire

Far higher than Quantum sufficit.

And accept the truth that in wealth

Quantum meruit provides enough.

This is in the world we walk

Itself a virtuous task,

For as many aim for a deity to follow,

Quandoquidem inter nos sanctissima

divitiarum maiestas, esti funesta

pecunia templo nondum habitas

Fere libenter homines id quod volunt credunt

And so my work is play, awakening that

Which appears appealing for the day,

An nescis, mi fili, quantilla sapientia mundus regatur?

Because they know the rule, that a person is intelligent,

But people are a fool, lending their grouped mentality,

To the suffering of the world as a whole.

Argumentum ad ignorantiam

As many do, standing on shifting sands,

Argumentum ad hominem

Cutting the tallest poppy,

To wreak defeat upon its form as man.

Thank you all,

I agree Harmony, 'await' does flow better, however, i chose 'wait' because it suggests too the 'weight' of the heavens above me, even where i seem to belong, the heaviness is there.

thank you all,

Alone I travel the chaos of time

The void of black decay my home

The winds of night my cushioned bed

The lights of day echo in my head.

How many paths have I now tread?

Where did my destiny lead?

For I found my destiny dead,

And take whichever path I need.

Walk a mile that seems a life,

The timeline's future clear,

No mist surrounds the sliver edge,

Its gentle kiss holds no fear.

Wrap the world in clouds of red,

The sunset lights the moon,

Veils of soaking sorrow fed,

Their tears my walls of doom.

Sink the sun below the sea,

Wash the earth in fire,

Wait the stars to light my way,

Below, scorched clouds perspire.

Words echo as voices on my skull’s inner precipices

Yelling their subtly changing timbres at my lost mind

I spoke not to any save myself, my own empty space,

Walls of doors compartmentalize my existence,

Breaking each experience and hiding it away.

I will no speak ill of any, my own work dies on my tongue,

No echoes if left unspoken, I can hide, if I cannot run,

So into the void I crawl, deep within my ticking heart,

No emptiness completing me, as from the world I depart,

For now I cannot restore the woken gift to life.

Yet another door is locked, upon that wall of black,

I take the knotted flail of pain and cast it once more,

Tearing the flesh, burying its tendrils upon my back.

Pain unfelt, no need to run, hide in the shadows

Let this world within me, slowly come undone.

Bound upon the stone of dreary solitude,

Devoting all energies to a cheery attitude,

Seeking that which now is no longer found,

Just wishing someone, once more, was around.

Thank you Wyvern,

Some things are better left as a ghost, and kept at a distance.

Distance is the thing we feel most, being apart from the one that we truly love, seeing them move beyond all you have to offer, and knowing you will never hold that same place in their lives.

Time and true love are mere mists, seen only in hindsight, never able to be held as they sweep around you, and hiding all that is to come. All that is left is the ever widening distance of looking back.

I have walked alone many times,

And many years more I shall remain,

The eerie feeling of loss,

As I remember her name.

Long moments lasted but a breath,

Now silence rests upon my heart,

No longer shall our eyes meet,

Each moment, now further apart.

So today I resist my pain,

My longing to reach back in time,

To once again, say her name,

And hold my lost Valentine.

Strings of the quartet

Oft times, joy has met,

Played upon the distant rhyme,

Visions of another time.

I was hoping to be the baner or seer.... that would have had a certain sense of irony to it..

*grins*

darn... i knew i shoulda posted again today.... i hoped the carefully crafted name was working too..... nevermind...

*watches from ash pile*

The day started badly for Enipul Mai, the effects of lingering sobriety and grief taking a duel toll on his mood and mind, black thoughs and accusations floated behind his darkened eyes as he wandered aimlessly through the street. His path avoided entering the tavern, but the steps he took to avoid entering still took him past the front many a time. The knowledge that another had dies weighed heavy on his thoughts, and solitude was all he wanted now.

Stirring the crowds was perilous for him, few understood his tone and words when he was willing to speak, and none listened to him when he tried to talk without the influence of the drink, reputation was a hard thing to overcome.

Sitting in the cool morning air, across the street form Preston's tavern, he watched, seeing much as he fought to make sence of the previous day's accusations, and wondering if his own was as ill conceived as those that were directed at him. today was going to prove to be the death of one of them, but was accusing one simply to save himself justified?

His view of the drugs that Xander smoked offered the same reason to another's eyes to accuse himself, could he acctually have let evil seep into his own mind un-noticed because he was to drunk to see it?

Xander still seemed a better option, but his own vice was the doubt, could he be just as much to blame?

(ooc: Patrick/Xander *points to one track mind and grins*)

Memory can play wicked tricks,

Stealing the light away,

Leaving the dark to dance and play.

Memory can play sweet games,

Teasing the mind away,

So all is remembered, with naught to say.

Memory can heal the oldest wounds,

Washing the pain away,

My hope and smile, memories of you each day.

The crowd was gathered around the tavern when Enipul Mai arrived, still drinking the last of his nighttime bottle, eyes glazed as he stared at the taven and the red stains that littered the walls and floor.

"Preshton! No! Why him? No! thatsh jusht wrong and, why? why him? where'sh Millie? Preshton!"

Enipul Mai, fueled by the alcohol and anger lashed out and punched the doorway and collapsed against the wall.

"Red red alwaysh red, moon was red, wash it away, wash it away, clean it all away and let him resht." Enipul torn his shirt and used the tattered end to mop hopelessly at the stains of red.

"Follow the red, follow the red find the trailsh of the dead. Red hidesh in red, hidesh under the shkin, hidesh the tails of the beast within."

Enipul Mai stopped and looked around, "Find the shtain, it wash him, it was Xander, always letting the mind free, shmoking and loshing hish humanity, shleevesh were red!"

Enipul didnt hide his anger, inhibitions of alcohol fuels grief turned to hot rage, "Take him! Find him! what was he painting last night? Pretty printsh in red! Find him!"

(ooc: Vote for Xander/Patrick)

Drifting in and out of sleep was usual for Enipul Mai, as he say in his cushioned rocking chair and held tight to the small bottle of fortified wine that gave him somethign to drink should he wake fully.

For many years he had not bothered to bolt the door, no reason to really, if something wanted to get it it would. and he would rather face that asleep than awake and scared.

In the time between wakefulness and sleep the mind plays games, Enipul watched the shadows dance that night, wondering who's shadow would lie still come morning, he wondered what Xander was painting.

What possessed me to slip from your side?

There where I ever should have stood,

Regardless of the view of me in your eyes,

Wings should lift me above my emotive flood.

I let pain become my muse,

Falling to the trap of an ancient me,

Versions of repeated crimes

Breaking what I was meant to be.

I wrote for pain, selfish pride,

Lost the will to see how oft’ you cried,

You ever were my goddess, my life,

Your angel fell, tearing at wings he could not hide.

So here I sit, and look back, look up, search,

For eyes that are my heaven still,

Colour of my eternity, my dreams, my loving reality,

Have I fallen too far? I do not know,

All I have, I now let go.

I have seen again my all,

That gentle sweeping panorama of my world,

The light I have is you. Ever that will be true.

So here I bow, I wait, I pray.

You have your life, your love,

Turmoil may unbalance all,

But should never have made your angel fall.

So here I am, ever waiting, vigilant guardian,

Angel as you were first to bless,

Carved words of power upon my skin, I am blest.

Knowing your eyes still light my world.

You are my muse, again I write, you are my awen,

Burning insight, awakening all my joy of life,

You are my light; my world is seen in reflections of you

I pray, I may provide some light back to you.

No matter what happens, by your side I stay.

The wings you gave me, ever yours to call.

Yours to command, should you ever need.

Goddess mine, everloved, my heaven, my sky.

Thank you my love,

You are the colour and light by which all else is seen,

Always, forever.

I am sorry.

The first flask emptied before the cleanup was complete, or in fact even really started, Enipul Mai rummaged through the various pockets and found a second smaller flask hidden away as an additional precaution.

"What ish red? What gentle wash of coloursh created the imovable stain? I once saw a man of coloured eyesh and coloured mind play a red coloured game."

Enipul Mai smiled glazedly at the looks he was getting, no-one smiled back, he didnt mind, he was feeling fuzzy now, and deadening the sences always felt better than the stress. Walkign slowly to Preston's bar to refresh his flask, the colour on Xander's sleeve burned in little spots floating in the background of his mind.

"Why ish there red everywhere today? Everyone ish try to hide the red of their minds, and ish shcared to see the red on the ground." Stopping and swaying in the street Enipul Mai looked around to see Xander, he couldn't find him in the crowd. Truning stowly he began his shuffle back to the bar.

"Xander's is in trouble for not hiding his red, he should hide it better tomorrow, too much blood on the street today to be careless." Stumbling up to the bar Enipul Mai sat and looked for Preston, deciding to wait, his mind drifted back to Xander, "He should not paint with red today, today isthe day for silver and grey."

Raising his voice slightly Enipul began to chant, slowly growing quieter as he waited on Preston's return, "silver and grey, silver and grey, not the time for red today."

(ooc: Change of vote to Xander/Patrick)

In times like this Enipul Mai was a perfect example of the strengths of good preparation, he fished around in the folds of his large robe-like jacket and withdrew a flask. Drinking deeply first, then standing and moving through the gathered villagers.

"What creature of devistation has visited upon us this morning's visions? What stories are there to be told of it? for it is in the understanding of your foe that you gain insights to victory."

The mutters of 'Oh no not again', and 'why now', greeted his words, but Enuipul Mai was well used to his proverbial speeches being misunderstood and often enchouraged the laughter they inspired, and the town needed some laughter now, but more importantly, they needed the focus to see who this creature was and put a stop to this.

"It seems my friends that the howling creatures of night have new clothes to hide in again, no longer the fleecy garb of sheep have they, but now the face of friends and foe alike. tell us your stories then, tell us and teach us the ways to victory, let us spend this day preparing for battle and fortifying the hearts of all."

He took another long drink, his flask would need fortifying soon, where was Preston?

The morning felt different, there was a reluctance to work to routines. Enipul Mai sat grumpily in the square looking at the crowd, he didnt like the change of pace, everything was different, and that was never a good thing. Arguements would start next.

He watched in silence, wondering what to do. This morning he needed a drink.

(ooc: vote for Samuel - Savage Dragon)

Enipul Mai, sat watching the morning's activities with his usual enjoyment. The insistance of Millie that he eat would normally have provided opportunity for yet another playfully argumentative exchange, but the morning seemed fuller today, more to do, so Enipul Mai resigned himself to savouring Millie's amazing cooking and partially contemplating the coffee offered by Preston. The bread that Millie presented shortly after was a welcome addition to the morning meal.

Eating with the practiced precision of someone who has dined with royalty, Enipul Mai sat and watched the daily tasks unfold around him, It have been many years since he had done much beside contemplate the inside of a tankard of ale, or more recently the contents of the glassware that Preston used to serve his whiskey. The days always seemed to drift into each other, just a blend of routine and the casual interactions that became habitual greetings whenever the paths of the townspeople crossed as they went about their business.

The bread made for a suitable sponge to mop up the last of Millie's cooking, the bitterness of the morning coffee a plesant cleanse to the palate. Strong coffee awakened the mind too much at times, but this morning seemed fuller somehow, and the day seemed to require a bit more attention to its finer details.

As Preston walked past, Enipul Mai raised his coffee, "Preston, sir I agree, coffee is a far better way to begin this day, however it seems my palate has been softened by the splendour of Millie's cooking. Would it be possible to obtain something to sweeten my cup? say some of your fortified mead?" Enipul Mai winked, he knew it was unlikely to be agreed to, but was part of the morning ritual, and somewhat of a game now, Preston's laugh proved it still was.

Heh, yeah.... it was a bad day...

poetry is a good outlet.

Thanks for the critique, i always appreciate your views on my work.

Enipul Mai wandered in his slow aimless shuffle through the streets, his glased eyes watching more than most realised and a sharp mind beneath the fuzz of alcoholism remebering key snippet of things he saw.

He paused momentarily at the Door of Preston's tavern, and then once again entered.

"Preston, dearest friend, how is the morning treating you? are you going to try and convince me it is too early once again to have my usual and suggest that exessively strong coffee of yours as a better way to begin my day?

Sitting at his usual stool by the corner of the bar, Enipul Mai began his day, the token arguements the routine now, and always done with a playful smile.

Blue sky and setting sun greets my eyes, cutting them deeply to tears for even the softening light is too bright. I let the gentle breeze drift across the umbrellas and stands of my trade, the small rings of paladium glisten gently under the watchful eye of my lens. The kiss of fresh air makes me cough, it is colder than the airconditioned office of my days, and chilling in the spring evening as it tries to awaken my heart to enjoy it....

Sunset will sparkle tonight, the clouds are just right, but i stay here, my muse is hiding from me, and i have no wish to chase fairies by the light of a dawning night.

Camera clicks and the outside deminishes to shadows under the twin flashes of xenon tubes and reflectors channel my thoughs back to the task at hand, not long, maybe i find my muse again soon, maybe one day i shall see her eyes again.

The diamonds wink the agreement at me through my watching lens.

Click.

Deep waters are the shallows,

the shore of the abyss.

far beneath the warmer waves,

where the sand and sea oft kiss.

sorry ... missed the 't'

i go fix..

the wane waxed seep thing was the intent.... as you picked...

day ending,

moonlight bright and full

but i am so hidden in darkness that even the moonlight only manages to seep upon my face, the original vision was a shallow grave with a bright fulll moon gently seeping light through to touch the dead skin below the dirt.

sorry.... lost it...

nevermind...

thanks for the critique, always appreciated..