Journey Undone

I went on a journey the other day
Long and dark the roads traversed
I met a man, he had this to say
"Do not go further. This path is cursed."

I asked him to explain, to tell me more
But he just stood there in silence
I asked again, if he was truly sure
He stood and looked at me with defiance

So I continued on my journey
Walking down the cursed path
Telling myself that nothing would affect me
Feeling coldness clenching at my heart

I strode down the path, darkness falling fast
I saw a lady sitting on a rock
She didn't speak as I walked past
But looked at me and motioned to stop

Ignoring her I pushed into the dark
Where vines were choking the way
My shirt was torn, a wound above my heart
The blood flowed, I did not stop to stay

The path disappeared, lost in the night
I pressed forward, collecting wounds
For any thought at all, a hint that I might
Turn back, give up, was a loon

But came a point where could push no further
And wrapped in branches, I hung
Striving to free myself, so would not remain stuck here
Stubborn pride took me this far along

I remain there, hanging, to this very day
Cursing the choices that led me here
I should have listened to what he had to say
Instead I live in this nightmare

Curse

That eternal curse
That stirs emotions
Creates waves of feeling
Causes commotion

Bringing pain unimaginable
Sometimes unbearable
Slicing deep through barriers
Standing time immermorial

Some call a blessing
Knowing not what they say
Seeing not the true meaning
Hurt is the way

For this cursed blessing
Leading down slippery slope
To deepest pit of despair
The cursed hope

My Head

My head is not space

My head has no space

Filled with thoughts

Sometimes with pain

Sometimes with joy

But always full

My head is in space

Drifting freely 

Floating from point to point

Slowly freezing

Becoming set as thoughts slow

Held tightly

My head needs space

To expand and flow

To try

The Simple Task

The simple task impossible
The complex unimaginable
Even to start, to begin
Insurmountable
The barriers too high
The moat too wide
So stay hidden
Unstarted is better than unfinished
Safety in hiding

Blood

Blood fills my vision
Slowly coating each surface
Gently caressing
Thick layer of red

Blood drips down
One drop at a time
Pooling in small sticky puddles
Drying slowly until
Blood drips down
Breaking the surface

Where has it come from?
Where does it go?
Why does it stay?

I move
Each step harder as the world drags at me
Each time slower
Wanting to give in
Refusing to stop
I move and become coated myself
Blending

Blood is my vision
A constant sea of red
Darkening slowly
Darkening
Gone.

Confessions

How do I confess
That I have looked out at the world
Turned away in fear
Hidden in my cave
Alone

How do I confess
That the load becomes too much
I wish for an end to come
Silent and sure
Final

How do I confess
That pure chance alone
A turn of fate
Stands between me and that decision
An ending

How do I confess
The soft glint of steel
The gently sharpened blade
The soft kiss against flesh
Attracts

How do I confess
Given the choice
To abandon all that is loved
All that has been gained
I would

How do I confess
In the deepest depths
In the darkness
Hiding from the light
It waits

How do I confess
My strength fails even now
My will to hold loosens
As does my grip
Falling

How do I confess
When words will not come
When mouth and tongue are still
When all that is left is
Silence

How do I confess
Admit that I have failed
Given in to the torment
All I seek now
An end.

Confessions

How do I confess
That I have looked out at the world
Turned away in fear
Hidden in my cave
Alone

How do I confess
That the load becomes too much
I wish for an end to come
Silent and sure
Final

How do I confess
That pure chance alone
A turn of fate
Stands between me and that decision
An ending

How do I confess
The soft glint of steel
The gently sharpened blade
The soft kiss against flesh
Attracts

How do I confess
Given the choice
To abandon all that is loved
All that has been gained
I would

How do I confess
In the deepest depths
In the darkness
Hiding from the light
It waits

How do I confess
My strength fails even now
My will to hold loosens
As does my grip
Falling

How do I confess
When words will not come
When mouth and tongue are still
When all that is left is
Silence

How do I confess
Admit that I have failed
Given in to the torment
All I seek now
An end.

How Simple

How simple it is
To run the blade slow
Watch the red swell slowly
Rising behind steel

How simple it feels
The sharpness first
Later the dull roaring fire
A good pain
A memory to be treasured

How simple to stroke
Again and again
Each time building
Each time bringing new heights

How simple to watch
Detached
Separate and connected
Finally feeling
Finally in control

How simple

Malice

We hurt the ones we love the most
Through knowing their heart
That's the place to begin, you see
The vital place to start

To truly hurt someone
Cause them the greatest pain
You have to know them well
Get inside their brain

And knowing then becomes a type
Of love, twisted and vile
Through this love you stab them deep
Weapons on the pile

To care enough to hurt them so
To want them in such pain
Beyond reason, beyond thought
Beyond any hope of gain

This poison fills inside your veins
A poison dark and strong
Changes you, become the beast
It doesn't take so long

Beguile them with seductive words
Bring them close to you
Then slide that dagger slowly in
Keep the path true

This is the essence of love gone wrong
When turns as cold as ice
This is that terrible state
Malice

Heal Thyself

Healer, heal thyself
Do not let it go
Do not let your skills go to ruin
As your body fails
Mind overflows
With pain taken from others
Healer, heal thyself

Healer, heal thyself
Let not the suffering continue
Release the pain
Let it go
Do not keep it within you
Give the final release
Healer, heal thyself

Healer, heal thyself
Allow time for wounds to close
Time to rest
Time enough to learn to love
Your broken heart shows
That time is not your friend
Healer, heal thyself

Unasked

A single tear unshed
Holds an ocean of pain
Hiding in the small drop
Look deep within
If you dare

The surface glistens
Bending light
Yet some is trapped
Rays bouncing and shifting
Seeking escape
Finding only sorrow

Move closer
See within
Small grains swirl
Lost in a cycle of endless despair
Fighting a hopeless battle
Each time they rise
They fall

Leave it be then
Unshed and unasked

Her

Trace the gentle curve
As candelight brings a soft glow
Skin shining in the light
Allow the charcoal to flow
Gently over the page
Tracing out the lines seen
As she smiles at you
Her eyes shine and gleam

The flickering glow shows
A beautiful sight to see
As she stands there still
Quiet and patiently
Waiting for your strokes
On parchment fine and stretched
Smiling as she thinks
Of the portrait you have sketched

Draw well, as hands are moved
By angels of the heart
Careful strokes leaving traces
Of beauty and art
Caress her skin gently
With your eyes
As flickering light fades
Do not let it disguise
Her

Tears

Let the tears flow
Don't keep them pent up
Behind a dam of flat
Hiding from the world

Feel the pressure build
As each tear forms
Is held back
Waiting
For release

One day the dam will break
Flat expression turn to sadness
Tears flowing freely
Scourging all in their way
Leaving channels
Raw and bleeding
In their wake

So let them flow
Accepted
Caring.

Dark

In the darkness no one can see
I can hide away in perfect safety
None that will be able to find me

In the deeps it's lovely and cold
No need for warmth from cuddle or hold
I can stay and hide until I'm old

Some people complain about the dark
Say that it will break their heart
I say, it's just a start

Live in the dark for a while
Learn to exist without smile
You'll find it's not so vile

After all, eternal night isn't bad
Just a place where you're free to be sad
When you're feeling down and bad

Cheer Up Emu Kid

Cheer up Emu Kid!
Life ain't that bad
Look at the world around you
Don't be so sad!

Cheer up Emu Kid!
Things are going to be great
The world out there is ready for you
So why stay here and wait?

But, but, but, cries Emu Kid
My world is full of pain
No one understands me
I'm stuck here in my brain!

I want to fly, cries Emu Kid
I want to see the world
But these useless stumps of wings
Can't even be unfurled

They can't flap and I can't fly
Useless waste of space
Just let me hide away again
I don't want to see your face

Cheer up Emu Kid!
It's not that bad
Your wings don't work, sure
But don't be sad

See those legs?
Strong and swift
With nice sharp talons
Give those a lift!

You've got class, you've got style
You've got so much to give
Cheer up and run, Emu Kid!
Get out there and live

Don't tell me buts, Emu Kid
I don't want to hear you but
So go on, run, fast as hell!
Go and have a strut!

Rain

The rain falls
A blessed relief
Each drop life
Each splash welcome

The rain falls
Soothing sounds
Send to sleep
Dream of water

The rain falls
Fill the ground
Run into streams
Replenish the earth

The rain falls
Short time only
Passing in night
Leaving joy behind

Empty Chalice

An empty chalice
An empty mind
Both waiting to be filled
Once full waiting to be emptied
With what shall you fill your mind?
A rich drink of love?
Warm and thick
Filling to the brim
Slowly drunk only to fill again
The cold strength of intellect?
Fulfilling yet empty
Cold and harsh on the tongue
Leaving rim of frost
The poison of malice?
Steaming and vile
Filled with bile
Of events best forgotten
Whichever you choose
Fill it well and drink
Lest it simply collects dust
Empty

My Heart

Come, demon, into my heart
Come now, demon, I pray
You are welcome here, come stay
There, now we have made a start

You are welcome here, demon
Welcome to live and play
I'm sure you will want to stay
You shall see, before too long

You're not the first, oh no
Not the first by far
They come, they try so hard
Then they always go

So please stay, demon dear
Stay just a little while
Show me that toothy smile
There's a place for you right here

I cleared out my heart for you
I left it spick and span
You staying is part of the plan
I want you, demon, I do

After all, there's nothing left for me
I scrubbed it all away
No emotions now can sway
I need you, don't you see?

Why do you run, demon
Why do you go away?
Why can't you just stay?
For a little while, even?

Another one lost to me
I guess I should expect it
If I had a heart it would feel hurt
I feel nothing now, you see

So time to keep on searching
At least I'm not still hurting

The Shadow Watches

He runs
Ungainly limbs flying through the air
Dust raised by every pounding footstep
Sweat streaming down naked skin
Leaving small smooth craters in the dirt
The sun beats down
The shadow watches and does nothing

He climbs
Scarce noticing the feel of bark
Small splinters working into torn flesh
Insects fall or are crushed
Striving to get lighter, faster
The sun beats down
The shadow watches and does nothing

He stalks
Care taken with each step
Silent and sure
Arrow on string ready to fly
To bring down his prey
The moon shines brightly
The shadow watches and does nothing

He sails
Salt spray covering skin
Callouses torn, healed, torn again
At mercy of the great winds
Monsters sleeping deep
The sun beats down
The shadow watches and does nothing

He dies
Alone and facing death with no fear
By choice lying strong
Ready and willing
Waiting
The sun beats down
The shadow watches, reaches out in gentle embrace
Covers him in care and memory
The sun beats down no more

The Moon Shines

The moon shines down
Casting silver shadows
In the shadows form shapes
Faces twisting and turning
The dark of the moon glows
The faces turn, revealing
A hidden face
A strong face
A cloud passes and all is hidden

The moon shines down
A noble queen on her throne
Chained beast leashed at her feet
The dark of the moon glows
A noble queen lies chained
Bound in silver links
Twisted wires of gold
The beast stands guard
Silently watching
A cloud passes and all is hidden

The moon shines down
The cup fills slowly with blood
As life drains away
A gift taken but not stolen
Yet not willingly given
The cup is raised to the heavens
The dark of the moon glows in return
Bringing life and heat
Leaving the cold of death
A cloud passes and all is hidden

Skin

https://soundcloud.com/mahray/skin

Paint a smile on your face
Cover the cracks in your skin
Don't let them see within
To the harsh reality

Eggshell thin
This facade of hope
Pretending you can cope
With the pain

Slide a stone
Over the metal
Check the fettle
Nice and sharp

Feel the cool
On your skin
As the blade slides in
Gently

Leave a line
Of raising red
Let it shed
Dripping slowly

Dig a little deeper
Make it last
As in the past
Showing careful scars

Carve a smile on your face
Slide deep through your skin
Show what is within

My Shining One

I used to write songs in a minor key
Coz that was how the world looked to me
But then I met you and my world got bright
Now my songs are all fluffy and light
I just want to thank you, for changing my world
And showing me colours, in shades and in swirls
For taking all my dark days and making them so, so happy and light

Thank-you baby, thank-you
For making my world bright
Thank-you baby, thank-you
You make my burdens light
Thank-you baby, thank-you
For everything you've done
Thank-you baby, thank-you
My shining one

Minor Key

Each time I sing
I find myself in minor key
Not truly by choice
But this is how the world seems to me

When I draw the world
Always shades of blue
It is what I see
I show the world true

When I tell the truth
People turn away
I see it happen
Day after endless day

And so I try to hide
I try to lie
To paint the world
With bright blue sky

So they ar ehappy
And think I am too
When it's all a sham
They have no clue

So I hide away
From a world full of pain

Unicorns

Unicorns - Ancient Horned Menace or Sexual Metaphor?
Walk into any bar on any campus in the world, and you'll find a bunch of hooligans pretending to be students. Often drunk, loud, obnoxious, and generally not good company at all. However, if you by chance find yourself in the postgraduate and staff bar, then a completely different sight will greet your weary eyes. Make your way past the security, bluff your way into the bar and pull up a stool. What will you find? Very serious, very learned people with just one topic on their minds.

Unicorns.

That's right, unicorns are a topic that is close to any professional academic's heart. Once they've relaxed a bit in a safe environment, it is a topic that is constantly raised. There are two broad sides to the debate. Unicorns were an ancient species that was hunted to extinction because of their horn (similarly to Rhinos in present times), or that the unicorn is a metaphor for bisexuality and 'sexual perfection'. Let's consider both of these theories before coming to any conclusions.

Unicorns as an ancient species
The first theory commonly held is that unicorns were an existing species, that were hunted to extinction because of the apparent healing properties of their horns. When we think of a unicorn, we often picture the pure white horse with a horn thrusting out of the centre of its head. However, the first reports of unicorns are of a much more terrifying beast.

In ancient Roman texts the unicorn was describe as a terrible beast, fully prepared to use its formidable weapon both in defence and offence. This was not the gentle horse, but instead a creature with fangs, hooves, and a goat-like head. By any means, the unicorn as described by the Romans was a frightful sight, a beast that used its long horn as a weapon against much larger animals. While there are no confirmed reports of the diet of a unicorn, it can be assumed that it was a carnivore based on the nature of its horn as well as the simple requirements to maintain functioning of its body. To put it simply, an ancient unicorn would not be able to survive on plants. It needed to eat meat. Lots of meat.

Of course, like many predators in ancient (and modern) times, the virility of the unicorn became famous. Carcases would be found through ancient European forests, with clear signs of stab marks. Trees were slashed at great heights, as unicorns marked their territory. The occasional unicorn corpse was discovered, torn to shreds in ritual contest. Unicorns, clearly, were an animal to be reckoned with. Such strong virility must be concentrated in some part of the animal. Obviously the most virile part of any unicorn was their long and spiralling horn. Once this meme started to spread, unicorn horn became an extremely valuable commodity, due to the perceived benefits of ground unicorn horn, and scarcity. Put simply, rich people would pay a great deal of money for unicorn horn, which was extremely hard to get. Many hunters gambled their lives to hunt unicorns, and lost.

However, any predator the size of a unicorn must control a large territory to maintain their feeding pattern. This puts a small upper limit on the number of unicorns that could exist in any one area at a time. Before agriculture, there were large stretches of forest across most of Europe, so the unicorn population was high. Once forests were cleared for farming, the population shrank under habitat pressures. Hunting of unicorns for their horns, although dangerous, was profitable enough that it did not take long for unicorns to become mostly extinct as a species. The only survivors would be those in inaccessible places, or individuals who were particularly aggressive and strong.

This theory has some evidence to support it. Ancient writings show a reasonably consistent account of unicorns, the variations in depiction can be attributed to adaptations to a particular environment and the difficulty of describing such a beast. There are clear parallels that can be drawn between trade in unicorn horn and Rhino horn.

Unicorns as a metaphor for sexual perfection 
Given the supposed existence of unicorns in ancient Europe, and their predatory nature, it is somewhat surprising to see them portrayed as white-coated, innocent, and pure beings who will only approach a virgin. However, when considering the unicorn as a metaphor for sexual perfection, then these attributes make a great deal of sense.

In this context, sexual perfection is a description of a state of bisexuality where one is comfortable with the sexuality of both their masculine and feminine sides. It does not necessarily imply that one must join in same-sex relationships, but is more the essence of comfort with one's own sexuality and a balanced mind.

The parallels between a unicorn and sexual perfection are clear. The unicorn exists in a state of perfection itself, demonstrated by its purity and pristine white coat. The gentle prancing motion is an indication of a true acceptance of the unicorn's femininity. The horn, in this depiction much cleaner and shorter, is a phallic symbol representing the masculine side of the unicorn. The juxtaposition of masculinity and femininity would normally create conflict, however the unicorn shows us a clear path to what sexual perfection should be.
There is also the often-repeated myth of requiring a virgin to capture a unicorn. The big, masculine hunters are so full of virility that they cannot approach or tempt the unicorn, so they will call on the services of the local 'pure' virgin, traditionally a young maiden. The unicorn is so touched by this purity that it will approach calmly, allowing the hunters to capture it.

This represents the imbalance in the hunters (always male in these stories). They have strong masculine traits, as is appropriate for that time, but refuse to accept any traits of femininity that exist inside themselves. This lack of acceptance means that they cannot achieve sexual perfection, and are thus rejected by the unicorn. The virgin represents the complete opposite of sexual perfection, a lack of sexual identity. While the unicorn is attracted to the virgin, it is with the aim of turning their lack of sexual identity into sexual perfection. This is not a process of corrupting the virgin, but of allowing them to explore their own sexuality and progress to the perfection.

It is clear that the hunters, while strongly masculine, will inevitably fail in their self-imposed task of taming the unicorn, because they are unwilling to accept their femininity. Should one of the hunters reach sexual perfection, then the unicorn would join with them happily.

Putting it together 
While each theory does a good job of describing the facts, they are both incomplete by themselves. After all, unicorns as a metaphor for sexual perfection would not exist if there was not the concept of a unicorn in the first instance. Conversely, if unicorns were simply an ancient beast hunted to extinction, then there would not be the depictions of unicorns as the white and noble creatures.

Instead, the most likely explanation is the simplest. Unicorns did roam through ancient European forests until they were hunted to extinction, their horns taken, with corpses left to rot on forest floors. Descriptions were passed through the centuries, until they became adapted as a metaphor for sexual perfection, an otherwise difficult concept.

Violet

The lone violet stnads
Alone in the field
Untouched
Surrounded by trampled green
Grass and flowers pressed into the mud
Tinged red with blood

Yet the violet stands
Petals turned towards the sun
Mute testimony to life itself
Life that will continue
In the midst of chaos
Flourish and grow

The violet stands proud
Alone no more
A sea of colour
Proudly shining in the sun
Gently moving in the wind
Alive

Trust Me

Trust me, he said
Taking her hand
Dragging her down the lane

Trust me, he said
Pulling her hard
Towards the sound of the train

Quickly, he cried
As they ran along
Scuffing along uneven stones

Quickly, he cried
Running onto the road
Past the high and mighty homes

Wait, she gasped
Trying to slow
Uncertainty dogging her steps

Wait, she gasped
Pulling his hand
Feeling bewildered, perplexed

I don't know, she wailed
Wondering, where
Where would they both end up

I don't know, she wailed
Frightened, unsure
This journey so very abrupt

Trust me, he said
As they boarded the train
Whistle blowing loud and clear

Trust me, he said
Holding her hands
The world awaits us my dear

Sleep

Sleep
That elusive state
When body at last can rest
Yet mind still churns
Driving constantly towards fear
Anguish

Why, why must sleep be so hard
Why must the terrors arise
With frightful regularity
Disturbing that gentle state
Of sleep

To sleep, to dream
To suffer loss and pain
Over and again the mind is torn
Wrenched from rest to wakefulness
Tearing apart over shards of terror
As once again the subconscious is opened
The monsters unleashed

What then is the choice
To suffer and live in fear
Heart torn with mind
Into pieces
Or to avoid
Alertness lost
Mind fogged with poison of fatigue
Body falling
Failing

So sleep
Risk the night
Hope for rest
But know it will not come
Without a cost

If

The world is dry
Heat fills the landscape
Nothing remains on the ground not parched
Dried and desiccated
Hear it crunch underfoot
As you slowly wander

The ground baked red
Rusty in colour and feel
Cracks cover the surface
No hint of moisture here
Nothing left
But dust

Look up and see
Perfect blueness of sky
Unmarred by clouds
Offering hope
Infinite expanse to spread
If only
If

An Empty Room

An empty room
Carpet faded, worn
Walls off-white and streaked with grime
Patches showing repairs completed long ago

An empty room
Smell of mould and dust
Filling the nose and choking
Cut by a faint hint of bleach

An empty room
Quiet and still, no air moves
Any sound echoes harshly
Then is lost

An empty room
Filled with ghosts
Memories of times past
Joy and sadness fading to grey

An empty room
Nothing remains now
All has been taken

Oak

On the porch the chair rocks alone
Thin layer of dust on well worn seat
A storm rides the nighttime air
Bringing a chill and hint of rain
Nothing stirs

On the porch an old man rocks
Hands turned pale and stiff with age
He shares stories of his youth
When the world was different
Better
The children listen and learn
Not knowing what it is they are learning
Content to hear the old man as he rocks

A gift well recieved
As age tires her joints
The chair provides comfort
Watch the children play
While parents work in the fields
She smiles and is young once more
Forever to him

He works long into the night
Hands firm and steady
Splotched and scarred with experience
Shaves of oak spread
And create mountains for ants to scale
Striving as they will
As he does
Until his task is complete

The storm is fierce
Shared warmth broken by shouts of thunder
A bright light shines for a moment
Then soft yellow glow
Quickly hidden by rain
The morning sun reveals the great oak
Now shattered and rent in two
Part burnt
Part living
A once mighty tree taken by nature
And falling as all things must fall

He climbs
Watched from the porch
As he scrambles up the oak
Trying to reach the top
See what the birds must see
Today he fails
Fear overcoming his mind
Flesh weakened he comes down
Knowing that one day
He will see as the birds
One day

Time has passed
The sapling grows healthy and strong
The boy learns to walk
Talk
Countless questions diverted
Each time bringing memories
Each time harder to put aside
Soon answers must be given
But not yet

The baby cries
In this very moment inconsolable
Yet this moment shall pass
Innocence the gift of the young
Forgiveness a gift never accepted
As the father stares at the small growth
Growth to commemorate loss
He holds the baby closely
The cry a rememberance to all that is lost
A promise to the future

They hold hands
Lost in each other's eyes
His hand moving over the swell of her
His nose enjoying the smell of her
They relax and laugh
Under the gentle shade of the oak
Soon to be left behind
But never forgotten
A reminder of the past
At the beginning of their future

Posts from the Vault - Scars, Regrets, Forgiveness, Acceptance

An old friend, Mahray, dropped in to visit. He told me a story of sorts, then had a drink and left again. Bit off a weird one, to be honest.

Scars
Scars. We all bear them. Each carries a story, whether of emotional or physical injuries. Some scars fade over time, others are with us for life. Some scars flare up now and again, others are painful for the rest of our lives. Scars.

I have many scars. Some of them are worthy of stories. Others are not. This is the story of some of my scars, where they came from. Why the still pain me.

Take this one. Faded. Slightly raised. Runs along the back of my thumb, right on top of the joint. It flexes with movement. It is one of many scars on my hands. These come from a life of work. Not being incautious, those are other scars. No, these come from the day to day tasks, minor slips, cuts. Look at anyone's hands, look at your own. You will find they tell the story of a life, in small blemishes, scars, marks. Look carefully at your own. Think back to how you gained each mark. They all tell a part of the greater story.

A word of advice. Look carefully at the hands of those you would deal with. If you can see their story, even if you cannot read it, then deal with them. If you cannot, walk away. For one who's hands do not tell their story are hiding from you.

Another small scar, sharper. A simple accident. A reminder of the risks of careless action. Not that I don't take action now, but there are times when I think first. Sometimes.

Moving further along, down my arm. A set of scars along my wrist. Messy. Harsh. Fading now, but still visible, after decades worth of slow healing. A reminder of the past. A story to tell.

Not the most interesting story, I will admit. A simple childhood game. A challenge, a misjudgement, a door closing. A door closing hard, with glass. I'm sure you can fill in the rest, as an intelligent being. Let us say it was my first truly impressive scar, but is not and will not be my last.

Moving further, again. My shoulder. A letter, faintly outlined in white tissue against the darker skin. A small physical scar masking a much deeper, vicious emotional wound. A wound that to this day bleeds a little more each hour, a constant reminder of a presence now gone. The wound, inflicted by another. The scar entirely my own.

Let us continue on our journey. Across my side, running into my back. A long, ragged mark. The legacy of another mistake, this one proved nearly fatal. A simple mistake, common in nature. Assuming that once an enemy was on the ground they were not worthy of attention. Do not make the same mistake I did. An enemy is your enemy until they are dead. Even then, you should treat them with the respect and caution that they deserve. Even the meanest enemy can prove fatal if not treated with respect, and sometimes more than scars remain. Or less.

Across my leg. Perfectly parallel to the ground. Dark and slightly puckered. You would be forgiven for thinking that this scar was inflicted by a blade, deliberate. You would be wrong. Again, an accident. A careless movement. A lasting legacy, a reminder that care must always be taken even in familiar surroundings.

Every time I consider this scar, I am reminded of those familiar surroundings. Each time it brings fresh memories, fresh recollection, fresh pain. Another scar that refuses to heal. Perhaps I refuse to let it heal, for healing would mean forgetting. I will not forget. So the scar remains.

There are more. Many more. Each scar tells it's own story, forms a part of the tapestry of my skin. To tell all the stories would be to tell the story of my life. Reliving each part, looking back on those decisions again. Would I change them? No. Each scar forms a part of me now, a part of who I am and who I have become. They are my life, and I would not change my life.

I think Mahray had got into my drinks cupboard fairly early. There were some little shards of glass around the place, I've done my best to clean it up but probably best if we keep the lil ones away from the dungeon for a while

Regrets

Hi. Sorry about the mess, I had a bit of a spill when I was pouring myself a drink. Cleaned it up for the most part, just watch out for those little bits of broken glass. You know the bits I mean, the only way you can find those is bare feet. Tentacles, I guess, in your case. Never mind. Bit of pain never hurt anyone, did it.

Sorry to let myself in without asking, but you were off and about. Went for a walk last night, couple of trips around the place. Nice gardens you've got, very relaxing. Could do with a labyrinth though, in my opinion. Walking around the gardens and the grounds is all very good, but a true labyrinth would make quiet meditation and thought that much easier.

Thought a lot last night. After our little chat, that is. Well, I chatted. You just listened, and thank you for that, I appreciate it. Sometimes I need to talk, every couple of years. Hard to find people to listen, who don't get scared. I mean look at me, not the most upstanding-looking gentleman ever.

Last we spoke, I was showing you my scars. Some of them, anyway. I have more, as everyone does. Plenty on the inside as well. One day I'll breathe my last breath, and I'll be finished on this world. At that time, perhaps a higher being will take a look at my soul. I wonder what they'll see. There are some scars there as well, big ones.

I don't want to talk about that tonight though, you've heard enough for the time being of my life. What I want to talk about is how I deal with it. Knowing what I do of you, you must have some scars of your own. Mistakes, big ones. That's the real definition of power, I've heard it said. Power means when you make a mistake, as you are bound to do, it's a big one. Affects lots of people. The more power you have, the bigger your mistakes.

I've made plenty in my time. Had plenty of chances to regret what I've done. I spent years dwelling on my mistakes. Each scar, bringing memories, could just as easily bring regrets. They don't though. I came to a... epiphany, a while ago now. The past is passed. It seems trite, but consider that statement in some depth. What is in the past has happened, yes. We can't change it. Well, I can't, don't know about you. Given the choice though, I still wouldn't change anything. Even the bad bits.

We are made up of choices. It's the same as power and making mistakes. Power is also about making choices. Those choices, good or bad, define us. The greater the power we possess, the greater the mistakes we can make, but the more and bigger the choices. I am the sum of my choices, all of them. Changing what has happened would change who I am now. Even going back to make 'better' choices, would mean that I would not be me, I would be someone else. That someone else may be a better person, or a wiser person, or a happier person. But they would not be me.

So I choose to make my decisions, knowing that when I look back with the ever-clear hindsight I may feel they should have been different. I choose to accept this, and not regret. Regret is a useless emotion, it only causes pain and distress. Have I made mistakes? Yes, many, and some of them have caused terrible harm. Do I regret them? No. I choose to accept that the past has passed and cannot be changed. I choose to look to the present and the future, and not dwell on the past.

So I do not regret breaking that glass. I am sorry. I do hope that you don't have an injury. I will also not regret being drunk. I may make bad decisions. But they will simply form another part of the tapestry of my life.

Forgiveness

Silence is also beckoning to me, but I'm kinda floating around in a vast sea at the moment. Perhaps this is a recollection of past discussions, where my mind has drifted while my body drifts. Or maybe not. Don't ask me, I'm just writing down what Mahray tells me!

He came to me again this night, Mahray. He looks tired. Even more tired than usual. If it wasn't for the 'bots I would suspect he is nearing an end. His soul feels... thin, worn, hard used. I am concerned for him, for I do not know if I can do as he has asked.

Yes, I'm back again. Sorry, thought you'd got rid of me, didn't you. Well, not quite. I've still got a need to talk, if you're willing to listen. Even if you're not willing, I'm going to talk anyway, sorry. Drink some of your whiskey as well. I appreciate your taste, surprises me a little. Shouldn't, I guess. Just goes to show, no matter how well you think you know... someone, something, there are always surprises.

I've been thinking again, walking. Walking and thinking. The walking seems to help a lot. Lets me put my thoughts in order. Problem is, then I'm left alone with my thoughts. It seems to me that spending time with myself, with my own thoughts, just leads to problems. Big problems for me. A lot of my thoughts are not always pleasant.

I did say I have no regrets, and that is true. That doesn't mean my mind doesn't dwell on matters. Mistakes I've made. Thoughts coming to haunt me over and over again. Reliving actions taken, others not taken. We all suffer from this affliction, regardless of choosing not to regret our actions.

Which brings me to you. For some reason, you seem to have... something. A quality rarely seen. I can tell you my problems, as I have been. I can ask you for forgiveness. I don't know if you can grant it or not, but... I cannot forgive myself.

It's strange, truly. You would think that forgiveness would be easy, with a philosophy of no regrets. It doesn't seem to be so. I wonder why? What advice would I offer someone else in my situation? It is a difficult question, not everyone has access to a being of power that might grant forgiveness.

Will you? Will you be the one to forgive me? It is not something I ask lightly. I know I cannot forgive myself. If you cannot forgive me, then I will bear my burden, not gladly, but at least knowing that it is my burden to bear. If you do forgive me, then somehow you have transcended my own pain and brought it into yourself.

So that brings me back to my question. What would I say to someone who did not have access. Who could not ask for forgiveness and expect an answer, whatever that answer may be. Who had to accept the pain and torment of dealing with their mistakes, or forgiving themselves. Why is it that I cannot forgive myself, yet will accept your decision?

I must put aside my own fear, misgivings. My own history, a chequered past littered with mistakes and scars. Speak as though I hold the wisdom, I am the one with the great knowledge.

What I would say is this.

Forgiveness is not forgetting. It is easy to mistake the two, but to forget is not to forgive, nor is to forgive to forget. Forgiveness instead is accepting that which has happened, and resolving to understand it. To understand that people's actions were not malicious. To understand that mistakes were made. To understand that while these actions, these mistakes may have affected many, they were not intended to do harm. That is the key to forgiveness.

As to why you, I, do not feel we can forgive ourselves. It is complex, but at the heart it is simple. To forgive ourselves is to accept that what happened was not special. We lose the pain, the scar on our soul, that badge of honour that says we did something. We changed the world. It may have been a bad change, but a change it was. To forgive ourselves means to change what happened into mere chance, mere misfortune. If it is no longer special, then how can we justify ourselves, our actions, our scars.

So I turn to you. Somehow, by asking another for forgiveness it becomes easier. For you to forgive, you must first understand. By understanding, you then make my pain special. You fill my need for recognition, however twisted or not that need may have become.

I ask you for forgiveness. You may choose to grant it or not, I will bear my burden either way.

Acceptance

Transcribed from internal logs. Mahray recorded as entering the dungeon, but no record exists of exit.

How do you forgive a god? Or if not a god, then a being with god-like power, maybe god-like knowledge. So call him a god then. (Yes, I speak of a him, for that is how I know him. If he is truly male I do not know, I can only speak to what I see.) How do you forgive a god then? Is it the same as forgiving anyone else?

In a sense, yes it is. In another way, it is far from forgiving anyone else, a task that would appear at first glance to be impossible. For to truly forgive, we have to understand. To understand, to comprehend his actions, that is the task that concerns me.

It would be simple to simply abandon the task. Avoid thought of forgiveness, move on and try to forget. But while I have the choice to abandon the challenge, leave him to his own devices, I cannot. Not because I fear for myself. But I fear for others. I fear for this world.

Consider, if you would. A being of vast power, vast knowledge, vast ability. A being that has created and destroyed wonders. The vast power of being able to influence events, lives. Change the course of many.

Now think about the decisions that he would have made. Not all of them would have been the 'right' decision. Many mistakes would have been made, for even the wisest amongst us cannot see all ends. And in this place, this time? Mistakes will have been made. Regrets building. One such as he will require forgiveness, and I do not see that he can forgive himself.

If he cannot forgive himself, then what would happen? Over vast time, the regrets would build. The mistakes would pile on mistakes, making every decision an agonising choice. Would not anyone, in that situation, begin to wonder. Begin to doubt. Begin to choose not to choose, not to decide. Or perhaps, to make the final decision, to end it all. Cease the pain and suffering of all.

I cannot guarantee that decision would be made. But the risk... the risk is too much to bear. Why me? I can see the question forming on your lips, allow me to answer it thusly. Who else if not me? Is there someone better suited to the task? Better qualified? More experienced? Almost certainly. But they are not here, now. It is here and now that concerns me. I know I am not to late, for I still exist, I still think, I still talk. Yet I fear that soon this will not be the case, if he cannot be forgiven. For it is past the time where he could easily forgive himself.

It comes down to understanding. Without understanding there can be no forgiveness. I do not speak of full understanding, for who can ever fully understand another? Yet even a partial understanding will allow for forgiveness. How to gain that understanding is key. It must be apparent that to simply approach him and ask would be futile. After all, even the best amongst us tend to refuse offered help, for any number of reasons. Pride. Suspicion.

How to approach him then. How to build the rapport needed for understanding. How then to begin to learn enough to grant at least part of the forgiveness required. It is no easy task. It will take time, when time is of the very essence. So a subtle approach is best. Build a rapport as quickly as possible. Share thoughts, feelings, but always the truth. Trust in the truth, for this is too an important task to rely on lies. Lies can be useful, but they require a framework and careful planning. In this case there is not the time.

Do you see the magnitude of the task? The careful balance between not enough time and too much time. I feel that I have reached that balance now. I have gained enough of an understanding, to be able to begin the process of forgiveness. Of accepting your mistakes, taking them into myself, understanding, and forgiving.

Will you accept forgiveness?

The Sun Sets

The sun sets
Slowly sinking beyond the horizon
A soft glow fills the air
Shades of reds and yellows
Shadows lengthening
Twisting in the glow
Taking shapes of monsters fantastic

The sun sets
Waves crash softly on the beach
The sand still warm from day's heat
A stiff wind blows
Chasing birds over land
Squawking, they make themselves known
Crowding the trees
Filling the sky with noise and colour

The sun sets
Couples walk hand in hand
Climbing the mountain
Looking out over green land
Yet only seeing each other
The red glow not from the sun
They sit and share silence
Communicating without words

The sun sets
A lone dog stares at the sky
Lifts his muzzle and sounds
Clear howl across the sky
A call taken up by others
Again and again
They greet the coming night

The sun sets

The Sun

Will you stare into the sun?
Take the risk and see
For I tell you now
I feel the sun staring at me

Will you dive into the depths
Of that great flaming ball?
Be prepared to burn up
Will you risk it all?

For if the sun is staring at me
And if there truly is more to see
Then dive into its depths, just you and me
And holding hands, if we believe

We shall not burn, we shall not scorch
As welcomed we fly deep
Into the heart of fire and light
Come with me, take the leap

The Curse of the Education Acronym

NAPLAN (National Assessment Program – Literacy and Numeracy). ACARA (Australian Curriculum, Assessment and Reporting Authority). SCSEEC (Standing Council on School Education and Early Childhood). Acronyms that are sure to cause confusion for most, yet are commonly used by professionals in the education sector. Along with an entirely separate language of jargon, these terms are used without mercy to obfuscate and create a sense of mystique, as well as for the simple reason of using mental prototypes.

It's not hard to find examples of educational jargon and acronyms, they are used constantly in the public. What can be surprising is the way in which educators will talk to each other. To give an example, it is not uncommon for a teacher to say “His arousal level was really high when he walked in, so I used selective attending when he was being disruptive”. A plain English translation? “He walked in in a really grumpy mood, so I let him sit there and play on his phone.” Reading through educational research is even worse, with an acronym soup making a mess of things.

There has to be a reason for this particular language though. And there is. It comes down to mental prototypes and shortcuts. To explain briefly, a mental prototype is how we link words to ideas. If I say the word table, everyone has a picture of a table in their head. If you say to a teacher 'arousal', then that links to a particular explanation in their head (around the levels of stress hormones in a student, what might have caused that, and how best to deal with a student with a high level of arousal).

Acronyms and jargon also allow educators to share ideas without having to go into a great deal of detail. Once they start talking about pedagogy and curriculum, the jargon is a way of keeping track of complex concepts and ideas. This can lead to problems though. There's an old adage – familiarity breeds contempt. When you start to talk about things with an acronym, it becomes very easy to just think of them as that string of letters. This means that it is harder to have a deep understanding of the term and concept. The mental shortcut becomes the term, and a lot of that meaning is lost.

Secondly, mental prototypes are individual. The table that you thought of earlier isn't the same as my table, or anyone else's really. Sure, they'll have similar features (some number of legs, probably four, and a top surface). But there are some serious differences. Is the table made from wood, or metal, or maybe glass? Is it square, rectangular, round?

This is the problem with using jargon and acronyms, their use presupposes that everyone really is talking about the same thing. Of course, the number of acronyms that are used is increasing on a daily basis (a school might use ASOT (Art and Science Of Teaching) as their pedagogical basis and SWPBS (School Wide Positive Behaviour Support) for their behaviour management). By itself, this isn't a problem. But not everyone is aware of the latest trend, or system, or national body, and not everyone is willing to admit they don't know. It is common to see a term being used in a staff meeting followed by whispered conversations throughout the room as people try to work out what was just said.

The problem isn't only with educators. If they have difficulties keeping up with all the acronyms, what about the parents and students? Some terms have become very familiar, like NAPLAN, but if you ask the students who sit the test – can they tell you what it means? Basically, they would say it's a big scary test. Ask a parent about ACARA, or even worse SCSEEC and they'll probably give you a blank look. Education is all about working with everyone involved, which includes parents and most importantly students. When these terms are used without explanation it makes it even harder to communicate.

This lack of communication is what will destroy relationships between parents, students, and educators. Without those relationships, education simply cannot happen. Relationships and shared understandings make for good learning. Excessive use of jargon makes these relationships harder to create and maintain.

All the acronyms, all the jargon, it serves a purpose. It can create a commonality amongst educators, a shared specific language that lets them pass around and manipulate complex ideas with ease. It can also lead to taking shortcuts and not really exploring the issue underneath that term. When it comes to communicating with other people involved in education, mainly the students themselves, then these terms can simply mean the student will disengage.

After all, good pedagogy is about developing meaningful and deep understandings via relational transactions between all stakeholders.

Good teaching is about working with the kids to make sure they understand what you're on about.

Empty

I reach down
Open my chest
Place my hand inside
Empty

I reach up
Unzip my head
Place my hand inside
Ashes

I reach down again
Slide open my stomach
Butterflies wing out
Shimmering

I reach up once more
Grasp at my mouth
Peel it away
Silent

I lie down
Close my eyes
They disappear
I remain still
Empty

Kraken

The wave breaks
Soft white foam on crest
As it seeks to devour the sand
Only to pull back
To try again
And again

In the water small fish dart
This way and that
Chasing food
Being chased
Oblivious to the world around them

The sky remains clear
A seagull lets out a lonely cry
Seeking companionship
Hearing no reply he tilts
Moves on

Deep beneath the surface
In uncharted waters
A great shape lies
Silent
Waiting

Free

A gentle wind blows
The stream gurgles and giggles
Seeing humour only it sees
The bay horse lowers her head
Drinking water pure and clean
Dappled shadows on soft fur
From the trees above

Satisfied, she moves back
Then runs
Runs for the sake of running
Black mane flowing
In the wind of her passage
She runs for the sake of freedom
For she has no cares
In this moment
She is free

Roots gently suck at water
Freely given
The stream giggles softly
With joy
Free.

Chains

We are all bound by chains
  Chains of love
  Chains of duty
  Chains of fear
When we say I can't
  Chains draw around our neck
  Tightening
  Strangling
  Each repetition pulling tighter
When we say I love
  We cast chains out
  Linked to us
  Hoping to be chained in return
  Sometimes left alone
  Yet still chained
Chains can be broken
  Find the weak link
  Apply a great force
  And watch fragments fly
  Hot shards of metal cut through
  Bleed for your broken chains
For no matter the chain
  Breaking it always hurts
    Always.

A still pond

A still pond
Water like glass
Smooth, unbroken
Gentle glow of moon reflected
Shining above all

The dragonfly glides
Slowly coming to rest on the water
Silver ripples spread
Curling around rocks and reeds
Breaking the stillness

A splash
Ripples race and intersect
Calm returns to the pool
The moon watches on

She of the Fire-touched Hair

Sometimes my muse likes me. When she does (which is linked in a rather suspicious way to when I have work to get done...) music flows nicely.

Fire-Touched Hair (A folk song)

I saw my true love today
She of the fire-touched hair
She walked past with spring in step
Didn't see me there
I almost called out to her then
Almost did I dare
When I saw my true love
She of the fire-touched hair

Her skin so soft and her fiery hair
A smile to melt the hardest heart
Her soft and lilting voice
Sweeter than any harp

I saw my true love today
She of the fire-touched hair
I spoke to her of how I felt
Laid my feelings bare
She just kept walking, moving on
As if I wasn't there
Then it came to me so clear
I knew then how she cared

Her skin so soft and her fiery hair
A smile to melt the hardest heart
Her soft and lilting voice
Sweeter than any harp

I saw my true love today
She of the fire-touched hair
She wept and wailed as she knelt
Her face still so fair
Kneeling down beside my grave
I know she felt me there
Oh how I love here even now
She of the fire-touched hair

My Old Friend

Once again we meet, my old friend
Once again I welcome you, accept you
Bring you inside and make you feel
A part of my life, a part that is true

Your visit not unexpected, not at all
Although the timing as always unclear
No matter how long or short the visit
You are always welcome to stay here

Quiet you are, unassuming
But with such sharp wit
Sneaky, sometimes, as you move
And make us look like twits

Too polite to ask, I see in your heart
The question, are you a drain
On resources, time and effort
The answer is no, my friend, my pain

Ice

The frost creeps closer
Leaving gentle lattice of ice on stone
A sign the doom is approaching
Nearing

Breath creates mist
Run as you like you are slow
And the chill saps strength
Until you have n o choice
But to turn
And face

Stillness
No sound
No movement
Utter calm
Then a breath
Crystals forming in air
Glistening white
Falling slowly

Dark shapes sweep back
The black of cold night
Without moon or stars
The black of deepest ocean
Far from any light
The black of the endless void
Devouring all

A foot strikes the ground hard
Cracking the frost
At the same time reforming
Shards of ice cut like daggers
Flying through the air
Beware
They seek warmth of blood
Another step
And another
As the beast moves forward

A great roar sounds
Stone trembles
In the echo silence greater
Stillness returns for a moment
In the cold, cold air

The enemy revealed
Wings of nothingness
Hooves of ice
Breath freezing the very air
A being of cold
A being of ice
A Balrog of ancient times

Flee if you can
But beware
Flight will only lead to death
Fight and risk losing all
There is no good choice
Only which way
You choose

My Sad

I found a sad one lonely day
Just curled up on my bed
He looked so small and lonely
I scritched him on the head

The sad looked at me with big brown eyes
I picked hum up to hold
Pulled him closely to my chest
He felt scared and cold

My sad has long dark fur
With patchy spots of grey
When I stroke my sad I cry
But why I cannot say

My sad sometimes sleeps with me
When I go to bed at night
Sometimes I think he sneaks beside me
Just to give a fright

When my sad isn't with me
I feel a bit more light
But then he comes and hugs me
And somehow that seems right

My sad is getting older now
His coat has turned more grey
We still spend time together though
Nearly every day

We don't have to talk
It's enough he's there
I talk to my sad and stroke him
He shows me that he cares

One day I'll have to let my sad go
When we both are ready
But not for a long time yet
Even thinking it makes me unsteady

I found a sad one lonely day
He's been with me ever since then
I feel less lonely when he's around
My sad, my pal, my friend

The Wind

A soft wind moans in the trees
Telling stories that nobody hears
Sharing wisdom that nobody heeds
Crying tears that nobody sees

The leaves rustle and shift
Unnoticed in the night
Each alone and afraid
Yet unwilling to share their fear

A moth shifts, sensing disturbance
The bat eats, quickly
Many more must die tonight
So that he might live

The tick jumps
Finding warm flesh
Embedding jaws deep
Slowly swelling with blood

The wind blows still
Passing over all
Questing for someone
That it can never find

Drip

Drip
In the dark
A small room
Drip
Hollowed out
From living rock
Drip
Hidden from the surface
Buried deep
Drip
A place to live
A place to hide
Drip
Away from the light
The noise
Drip
The terrible nature
Of the world
Drip
When there is need
To hide
Drip
To leave it
Behind and above
Drip
The room is there
In the dark
Drip
Safe and secure
Isolated
Drip
A refuge
When needed
Drip
Where nothing can enter
No one can enter
Drip
Until ready
To leave
Drip
To face another day
The noise, the light
Drip
Knowing that there is a room
Hidden
Drip
Buried
Safe

The Storm

The storm comes
Announcing with far distant rumble
Trees shaking in short gusts
Ears prick as shelter is sought
Horizon lightens and goes dark

The storm breaks
Rain falls hard
Driven by wind
Thunder cracks and roars
The deer stands silhouetted
Caught fleeing by brief flash of light
Then darkness takes the land again

The storm passes
Broken branches stand mute testimony
Continued rain gentle now
Warm
Life continues

She sings

She sings
With broken voice
A song of longing
A song of love
A broken song that haunts
Hurts
Helps bring the pain forward
To be seen
To be embraced
To be accepted

She sings
The broken song
Missing the harmony
Incomplete
Unfinished
Her heart torn free with each note
Free to hurt
Free to beat
Free to heal

She sings
A song of pain
A song of loss
A song of forgiveness

Butterflies in my Stomach

Butterflies
In my stomach
Each time I see her
Walking by

Butterflies
With poison wings
Slicing me to pieces
Leaving me ont he ground
Moaning in pain
Watching her leave
Wishing she would stay

Butterflies
Each and every time
Wings cutting and
Toxins burning
Waiting for that moment
To be noticed
But she never sees
She just walks by
And the butterflies win

With Broken Wing

She flies
High above the ground
And sings
With broken song
Fractured melody returning
Again and again
To an open sound
Of pain

He sings
Beautiful to hear
Yet lost in the noise
Flapping, trying to fly
With broken wing

The Bird

The bird flies alone
The sky is her world
She sees as far as horizons stretch
The faint hint of light a herald
Showing the path to be flown

The sun's rays kiss the land
A mist roils and rolls
Glowing trees appear first
Exerting a gentle control
Ensuring all goes as planned

Slowly the mist sinks into the ground
Letting the sun's warmth flow
Nature stirs as animals wake
Some to their beds go
Others shift with every sound

She flies above all
Watching the world turn
Leaving it be for now
Taking the chance to learn
Letting herself be entthrall'd