30 November 2002

~ Story: Anguish ~

She is a fire, consuming my soul.


My thought is bent upon her, unwavering. My furrowed and bowed head says as much. For, though the day is bright and merry, I am not free to leave this room, for I am bound here.


She sits patently, waiting. I know that she is there, for I can sense her gentle gaze. Yet I cannot look upon her face, for fear of the consequences – for fear of being consumed. I looked into her eyes once, to have the depths of my heart plumbed. I fear this and consequently fasten my eyes on the dead wood beneath my feet.


A shadow briefly passes over the sun and I am distracted by the shadows which play across the way. I am tempted to glance at her but resist, as I attempt to portray interest in the contrast between the painfully burning sun and the mercifully cool shadows.


Impulsively, I rise from my chair and rush from the room as the shadows grow deeper. Perhaps I can find solace in the cool rain outside, I think to myself as I stumble out the ancient wooden doors which bar my way. Perhaps I can see her elsewhere, in a place where her eyes cannot pierce so deeply.


I hold my hands to the sky, praying for rain to freeze the burning within my heart. But the rain did not come. The pain within my heart increase at this and I grasped at my chest at the anguish and bowed my head. Then I do what any fool would do. I ran.


I run far from that wood framed house, far from my pain, seeking nothing but freedom from my agony. My travels take me far, to places where men rarely trek. Have you seen the things I have seen? My eyes, even now, gaze at glory upon glory – yet the pain is not alleviated. I know why: for her face is in all of these things.


Ah! The towering trees within the rainforest, magnificent in their reticence, have lesser majesty than her. For though I see a living tree with my eyes, I (in fact) only see her strength. The flowers of this valley, they have unparalleled hue and depth, yet though their colors are wondrous, I perceive them as shades of grey. For these living things have a beauty that mirrors one even fairer.


Long I travel and, in a manner similar to the slow creep of vines choking a tree, the anguish of my heart dies. Indeed, the death within my heart could not increase anymore. The cold rain falls daily now and I shiver; for this coldness penetrates my bones. I no longer see her face, even in my memories. In fact, I see no beauty at all. My anxious journey now is ended. I sit upon a cold stump to wait for the end.


I am there, unmoving, for days and I watch the deep forest about me live and die. And at my feet, a wonderful event takes place. As I gaze at the grey forest floor, I see a sprout of life ascending from the dead ground. It is a common event, to be sure, but it has a most curious effect on my mind. As I watch this growth, the deadness my mind begins to subside, to be slowly replaced by a green flame: a flame that does not consume life, but only death.


I wonder at this, and see the color and beauty return to the forest over the days and months ahead. A memory pierces my mind, a reminder of a road traveled long ago. In a fragmented way, I recall her face as I look at my surroundings. For I do long for her to look deep within my eyes, for that fire which she possessed is now also mine.


I begin to travel again, looking for her face. And though I see it in all things fair, I cannot find her. Yet the beauty of this land increases my longing – beauty upon beauty. I seek for her but my memories of the path I have taken to this place have faded. Indeed, I am not certain that I could travel the same path, even if I could fully remember.


Therefore I wander, I look, I seek, until the day came where I saw smoke rising from the horizon. Memories return! I know this place! I run in fear to the smoke and see the house, made of that dry wood, consumed in a orange fire. I cry in anguish and in fear, knowing my heart that she was gone. I fall to my knees.


And as I am in my torment, I feel a touch on my shoulders. I turn my head to see her beside me, gazing at the fire. She looks into my eyes, and my sadness fades away, the depths of my heart touched. Her smile causes my heart to leap and we both turn to watch the house burn into nothingness. And together, over the days and the years, we watch that blackened ground be restored – we watch that wonderful event.


And as I look into her eyes, I know that I am home.

( C: 0 )



29 November 2002

~ Another award! w00t! ~

Thanks to WebDesign2000 for another award!

( C: 0 )

26 November 2002

~ no hiatus here ~

I just realied that i have not posted anything on this site in quite a while! things have been busy, but I hope to make more time for the webpage soon enough. In fact, I am in the midst of writing another short story to post here.



Unfortunately, it is now time for bed.

( C: 0 )

12 November 2002

~ Short Story: Aware ~

And so she walked in, both aware and unaware. She was aware as one who had eaten the apple, and unaware as one who was lost.



And so she walked in, feeling, rather than hearing, the throb of the music and the lives about her. This was a place of escape for her; a place where the energies of the world collided, and provided her with a life she could never have on her own.



The music continued and collided around her, filling her with a sense of self, giving her the strength to live and fight another day. All about her, other lives collided with each other, both gaining and taking life. Ultimately, there was no net less here – merely winners and losers.



She approached closer to her source, and the music enveloped her; she began to move to its pattern, as her mind began to lose itself in the sound. It reminded her, of course, of who she was – had she so recently forgotten?



Others were reminded, also. She could tell; they were utterly the same. The music that surrounded them gave them that sameness, that sense of connectedness. This is why they all came here for it was only here that they could all become one. Whatever their lives outside, here they were the same.



Her mind was filling quickly, and her movements increasing followed the pattern of the song, in obedience to it. The throbbing increased its tempo, and she did the same. The swelling and the peaking of the music caused her heart to move more quickly, allowing her blood to move more freely. For this was what she wanted, what she wanted indeed.



And so she moved with the music, and the music guided her and all those about her. They were all one, fighting for the same cause, struggling with the same struggles, and victors in the same victories. There was no difference one from another. The beat moved on, and the men and women moved on: the throbbing was within all of their heads, and the chaos was that which unified them.



And so the night was filled with life and after the night came the day and after the day came the night. And they still danced on, filled with life. Time held no meaning, for this life was their all and all.



Yet the third day came, and the throbbing and sound stopped, and the men and women began to leave, slowly at first: then with vicious speed. They moved on to other places, and other times, leaving only destruction in their wake.



And so she walked out and blinked in the sun, weary to the marrow of her bone, staggering under an unknown weight. She was aware as one who had eaten the apple, and unaware as one who was lost.



And so she walked into her apartment and sank slowly to the floor, her face covered in tears. This was a place of loss for her; a place where there was no energy, a place with no life.



And she cried in a loud voice, Why the silence?

( C: 2 )

11 November 2002

~ Descent ~

(Originally written several months ago)



Who in their right mind would follow me? I have nothing to offer. How will I ever become a leader of men? Why would God do such a thing? How many self-deluded fools such as myself live their lives out falsely believing their life has some Kind of ultimate purpose?



Perhaps I should just surrender to the inevitable: I am not important. I have no purpose. I will live and die, my life having no impact on those pathetic creatures we call “human”. l will never taste joy, never taste love. No abilities, and nothing to offer, I will live out my wretched existence, working to merely live and living to merely die. I would rather be a wasting shell of a man than a self-deluded fool.



Love? What role can such a thing play in my life? Movies make so many claims - true love is possible, they shriek in a voice so loud that it drowns our sensibilies. What if these flickering images are wrong? What evidence do I see of such love between a man and a woman? All I see is a humanity caught up in its lusts. In few marred couples do I see any hint of love, much less the eternal kind.



I fear my own heart. What should happen if I am wrong? what if I were married to then see my marriage decline into the lifeless state well-nigh all are in today? Or to see it decline into the normal, the average? May I never live to see such a day. The prospect of such love declining into the mundane... I would rather not possess the illusion of it at all. Is it possible to maintain the joy, the excitement, all one’s life? If not... I know not how to respond.

( C: 2 )

09 November 2002

~ New Award and other misc. info ~

Digitalbranch.net won another award! Thank you, Jim Whalen! It gives me a certain about of joy knowing that this website plays a role in contributing to the internet community.



In other news, I plan to put up my Exegetical Study on Ephesians 4 up at some point. The primary problem with doing so is the fact that I wrote the paper for my fourth semester Greek class, and I need to put up the fonts in order to for anyone to read it! (No, the paper is not written in Greek, but Greek obviously plays an important role in it)



Finally, I made a slight change to this poem, in case you are interested.

( C: 2 )

~ Book recommendation ~

I just read the book Avalon, by Stephan Lawhead. Perhaps the best book I have read in recent times, this book accounts Arthur’s “rebirth”, if you will, in modern England, and his ascent to the throne of a dying country.



Although many have attempt to write about Arthurian legends, very few succeed. The majority, in fact, merely detract from the legends rather than developing them. Lawhead, on the other hand, shows a great respect for the legend and an equally great knowledge of ancient studies. Essentially, he avoids tearing all that is Arthurian apart for the sake of the “coolness fact”. Arthur, in this book, is a living, breathing person full of turmoil and struggle as he seeks his destiny as the High King of England.



While this book is not as “hardcore fantasy” as his previous books, the political aspects of the book were exceedly fascinating; the swords of war in the earlier books are replaced with swords of speech, though leaving them no less interesting and involving.



The book is immensely powerful; in my opinion, a must read. Have at it.

( C: 0 )

08 November 2002

~ Update on the Jesus artifact ~

http://www.msnbc.com/news/832057.asp contains more information on the Jesus artifact which was discovered recently. I am still not certain of its authenticity, but I do know that -- if authentic -- it may be one of the most important religious discovers of all time, short of discovering the Ark of the Covenant (or the Ark, for that matter!).

( C: 0 )

03 November 2002

~ Why I watch movies ~

As I was looking for a movie earlier today (being in a state of despondency for no particular reason), I realized exactly why I watch movies - it is my longing to experience a world I may never touch.



I am not entirely sure how to phrase this... I have a longing to be something greater, something special, something different from the world. This is not something entirely new; however, most people take this longing and, while trying to be “nonconformists”, end up being merely morons. I know of one person like this.



My longing is something different - I do not want to be a nonconformist for the sake of nonconformity. I want to be different in that this world, as I daily experience it, is not enough for me. I have a fear of the new and yet a craving for it that cannot be fullfilled. The world is there, and yet I cannot experience it. I wish to LIVE for once in my life.



This is why I watch movies. They allow me to be, for the period of several hours, someone who I may never get the opportunity to be, as society binds me to a path from which I cannot break free. Lord willing, I will break free... Lord willing...

( C: 3 )

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