And so it arrives like a wind, breathing something into my soul and carrying me away, or is it awakening me from decades of fitful slumber... There have been nights when I have wondered if all of this is some sort of insane dream or perhaps worse, that I am insane, that these ramblings and lives Ive lived are nothing more than the insipid ravings of a flee bitten crusader left to rot in a Saracen prison, in the bowels of some Islamic hell hole, the air laden with the jailers hashish, inducing visions of far off realms, worlds where I walk like a god, free from the shackles that bind me to the slime ridden walls of my cell. Perhaps on some far off desert battlefield a Saracen sword cut through my defenses and struck me down, created a raving lunatic who scribbles deep into the night phantasmal drivels and visions of worlds never to be. Or perhaps it is more than that. Could it be that I am the modern man I envision, locked away in some brick edifice, a cathedral to man’s attempt to silence beautiful voices, a palace of monsters constructed in a once vibrant industrial town near that wondrous Atlantic shore, near enough that in the depths of my insanity I can smell the sea, hear the waves, and taste the salt on my tongue? Perhaps it is the white of the orderlies’ livery, the nurse’s stark uniform that conjures visions of youthful dalliances among the pages and pictures of Templar tales. Could it be that I am a young man whose mind has fled this modern world in search of adventure among those pages and who tells these tales to a stone wall inscribed with loathsome trails of fingernails worn to the nub and beyond. There are days now, more and more they come, these thoughts, when I wonder at the possibilities, each as probable as the next. Could I be nothing more than an imagined wraith tripping the light fantastic through my own mind? Is it possible that the lives I have lived, the beings I have nurtured and taken within my soul, the loves I have loved, is it possible that all of it is nothing more than the ravings of a lost and polluted mind, set adrift by happenstance and God’s whimsy, if such a beast exists? I am Gaspar de Rouse...and this is my life...or is it? https://youtube/watch?v=ExM-o23bSa4&index=11&list=PL0H_8ZXJL1H8fwtPGkGLvCd-Sv5NY-ZV8
Posted on: Wed, 03 Dec 2014 15:46:18 +0000
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