I have been to both
the weeping depths of sorrow
and blissful peaks of joy
in noticing the keyboard
with all its letters there...
we all have the same choices
of strokes to make our own.
Yet there is nothing new
under the sun or moon
for all our journeys have
been hunted and pecked out
differently they are all the same
human experience we call life.
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Tracy's Art
I am working on a web site to showcase some of my brother's artwork; check it out and feel free to leave comments for him.
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Demons
My Demons were expelled
But I hear their voices
from time to time they yell
defeatism things that yearn
for me to take them back...
yet I fear the shadows of their black
celled chambers of what if
yet to push forward in light
to learn, feed, and grow
share, inspire, and live
is a far better thing than death.
But I hear their voices
from time to time they yell
defeatism things that yearn
for me to take them back...
yet I fear the shadows of their black
celled chambers of what if
yet to push forward in light
to learn, feed, and grow
share, inspire, and live
is a far better thing than death.
TWB: Shimzabar 2
It was during the period of constructing the Four Great Houses about the base of the Tower of Mithar that Shimzabar, the adoptive son of Leumas began to grow in understanding. He became more than just just another face in the crowd but one above them. For he began to show prominence in his questions and more so in his answering of them. Very astute and growing wiser for his age, taking in everything he was instructed.
When The Houses were completed he was the first to have completed his training in them even before they were raised. So much was his maturity that his own submitted lessons became the text of study for the peers that followed him. Highly praised and impressed with Shimzabar that the Watcher's Council made him the first non-Elven instructor. So motivated was Shimzabar to safeguard those schools of thought that it was he who devised ways in keeping the knowledge within the realm of the Founder's hands.
Shimzabar ritualized some of the tales from the Watcher's writings as lesson objects to be memorized, and only in doing so were students allowed to advance. As each level was obtained they were awarded a diamond tattoo on the right hand. Handless thieves were never accepted! Thus became the mark of the "Servants of the Path." Also at this time did the Watcher, Lord Vethema require the second degree to become apprenticed under a master crafts trade. In assuring the learning of a trade was woven into the lesson plans everyone came under the growing authority of The Watcher's of Mithar. If the eager student failed to keep up neither was he allowed beyond the city walls again to complete his skills training or learn the ever changing passwords of entry. Therefore in doing this the Watchers regained prominence over the city that had no standing army against the flooding of the Nasil. For many of the Bedouins desired to forsake their tent living in favor of the neglected Elven homes after the Great Departue.
In teaching and accepting the lesser men into their fold in this manner the remaining elves grew in power of the city that was rightfully theirs to begin with. Through the likes of Vethdema and Shimzabar the city of Mithar quickly grew in wealth and prominence not just with its overland trading partners but by shipping lanes as well.
The glasses
THE GLASSES...
The bifocal glasses he withdrew from the velveteen box amid other treasures were just plain unremarkable things. Nothing special actually. The lenses had a subtle yellow tinge more from age than tint. Their subscription had expired long ago. Their fashion was out-of-style - an early 2000s model.
Maybe they should have been thrown out a long time ago with all the other things that held no use; pots and pans, clothes, newspapers. Maybe he should have thrown out all the other personal odds and ends neatly ordered in the opened box before him. The box itself had been carefully stashed away in the weathered footlocker he had acquired five years back. The glasses were nothing special to anyone else, but him… He couldn't find the courage to... He gave an audible sigh trying not to allow the old pair of eye wear evoke deeper emotions. They were gently returned to the velveteen box as the weathered footlocker was slid to the back of his closet again. Before the door was closed on their memories he gave a melancholy whisper, "I miss you Dad."
The glasses
THE GLASSES...
The bifocal glasses he withdrew from the velveteen box amid other treasures were just plan unremarkable things. Nothing special actually. The lenses had a subtle yellow tenge more from age than tint. Their subscription had expired long ago. Their fashion was out-of-fashion an early 2000s model.
Maybe they should have been thrown out a long time ago with all the other things that held no use; pots and pans, clothes, newspapers. Maybe he should have thrown out all the other personal odds and ends neatly ordered in the opened box before him. The box itself had been carefully stashed away in the weathered footlocker he had acquired five years back. The glasses were nothing special to anyone else, but to him he couldn't find the courage to... He gave an audible sigh trying not to allow the old pair of eye wear evoke deeper emotions. They were gently returned to the velveteen box as the weathered footlocker was slid to the back of his closet again. Before the door was closed on their memories he gave a melancholy whisper, "I miss you Dad."
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