chasing shadows again











{April 7, 2007}   A scrap of a story….

But the words were long ago, and no matter how mighty the roar of the lion, no matter how strong, no matter how the sight of him alone filled all the world in the terrifying intimacy of the moment—time would rob him of majesty and leave him crowned with only dust. I remember the words as I remember the lion now.

On nights when I wake to write down prophesy he recurs in my dreams in a grand and abandoned garden, an ancient statue heavy with dust and the weight of the ages. I take up my pen still able to feel the silt-fine dust of decaying marble on my fingertips. On the nights that I wake in terror with his roar still echoing in my ears he appears to me wreathed in flame and tatters of his former glory, wrathful and more than half consumed by madness. But the nights I cannot shake from my memory, the dreams that haunt my every waking hour for days, he walks along beside me through dreams that are not of his making as my companion, my guardian, my brother.

And I know, even as I stand here on the balcony overlooking the sea of lights that is home, he is somewhere out there. Waiting. Walking. Searching.

When he finds me I will ask him if he shared my dreams.

This is a little scrap, unedited. I am not entirely sure who she is talking about, or if I will pick her up again. Her name is Samaria [Sa-ma’-ri-a ~ pertaining to a watch, watch-mountain — according to my copy of the Bible] and that is about all I know about her. Thought I’d toss it up here as I have yet to put up any of my own writing thus far.

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