Journey Through The Years: Dragon

Greetings friendly readers, and welcome back to the show.

The absence has been long, and the silence has been evident, yet the journey through the years sustains.

A month long project has stretched itself further than planned. As frustrating as it has been, I welcome these spells of creativity and appreciate the time that anyone takes to read this.

The series, centered around the Chinese Zodiac, allowed me take each animal in the Zodiac and create a piece in attempt to capture the spirit of the animal. Time and inspiration steered me away from the task.

As of Friday the 16th of February, we had entered a new year in the Chinese calendar, celebrating the “Year of the dog”. The ideal scenario for this would have allowed me to post a piece dedicated to the year of the dog as the year of the dog rolled in, but as it stands I was unable to make the most of that opportunity.

Despite missing the wave, the new year was a reminder as to the beauty and richness of the Chinese zodiac. A chance to play with words and introduce myself to new mindscapes was a part of this series that I missed.

I see no better time that the present to reintroduce this serial adventure, my journey through the years.

With no further delay, I present to you..

The dragon

If everything you have read is true, then I am ready to do my bidding. There are wide skies and endless ridges of space to play the backdrop of my efforts. A hand full of silent nights will be the canvas I carve with gold. Silent stars will be the trinkets to fill the shallow and every growing cup of triumphs.

My friends I have not forgotten you, hold peace. The letters I have yet to mark as read are never listed as dead but merely lead cladding to a comfort I continue to value most . So little penmanship for piers can give my tomorrow a healthy hand. There is no sin to season my intention to bow my head, plough my lot alone, the harvest is calling for my efforts.

I don’t attack friendly company with my preference for peace. I value the friends I keep, I am simply steeped in a kind of sadness that grows deeper when anyone else is near. As my belly is fills with laughter I am unable to eat my fill of the work that is yet to be done.

Empty scores and a countenance fit for the quiet, allows for my breathe to remain somber and well. I have no intention to colour words with fire, I burn too many bridges this way.

I have lifted the clouds from inside you in hopes of offering you freedoms touch, I have carried for you the burdens that weight you down, and softened the levys that leached at your souls currents of goodness. I work for your happiness as much as mine, the favours are repaid in gratitude, there are no debts amongst friends.

When I master the slipping scales of time, I will dance in the thick of the crowd. Until such time is present, I will whittle away the skies.


Writing 101, Day One: Unlock Your Mind

Daily post have kindly brought back Writing 101. As usual, I’m a day behind, None the less I will be tucking into the delicious feast of prompts on offer for the blogging U. Day one was a task in free writing. We had to let words fall on to paper for 20 minutes and post whatever came out. Dangerous concept, but a beautiful freeing writing practice. Here is what my mind had to say when I let it loose. It’s all bitter and I did a brief sweep, but it’s still all very raw. 


Imagine an open field, you got it? Great, now imagine it early in the morning, real quiet like. There is a thin fog hovering over, not the menacing type, you know the one I mean, horror movie, Halloween type fog. It was just a real easy, laid back fog, the sun can cut through it real nice. It makes a cool little curtain against the round hills off in the distant. 

Now picture waking up to this, not from a bed, just kind of waking up all of the sudden and looking out at everything, you see the fog, you feel the wet grass on your toes and you see the sun just working it’s way through the cool, laid back fog curtain. That’s kinda how I picture every great adventure starting. Right at the start of the day, with a fog slowly peeling away to show what’s ahead. It’s an awesome idea, and it kinda fits perfectly with the fairy tales. 

Learning that sleeping damsels in great castles with fiery dragons might have edged towards an exaggeration, I still respected that. I grew to learn though, that it isn’t as glamorous when we take our own adventures and have to slay the dragons waiting for us there. 

I killed a dragon once, it had these mammoth scales, great big things, the size of a full grown man, it teeth that were tainted red, I immediately assumed it was blood. It’s fire was blistering, it was thick, hot and, imaginary. My dragon was a mindset, “You will never be able to…”The mighty cry of the scaly nemesis. There was an adventure to embark on, but I never knew I would meet my dragon, right at the first step, as in looking out ahead to track a map to the first check point, and there it is, staring right at me. I was scared, but I saw people out there, past the dragons, so that means it could be done right? Not many people were out that far, but they were out there. Some people had slain the dragons, others whistled some songs they learned, carried trinkets, puffed up there chests and walked bravely past the dragons. Maybe the dragons didn’t see them when they looked brave, maybe that was the secret, or maybe the dragon saw them, pretended not to see, waited until they were too far to hide and got them then, I don’t know. 

Dad kept an old sword on the table in his study, took me forever to sharpen that crippled piece of iron, my knees knocked and my voice creaked as I hoped to sing little songs to lift the fear from around my neck. 

I took far too long to work on that sword, but I guess doing a small bit everyday until it was done, made me strong enough to carry it.

With the Blade sharpened to an amateur finish, I woke up to that open field, with the cool laid back fog in the air and the wet grass at my feet. I watched the dragon floating down, a mighty silhouette against the newly risen sun. I was breathing deeply feeling the hilt of the old sword in the palms of my hands, heavy and firm. I swinging it wildly and listenin to the jagged edges cutting awkwardly in the wind as I finally confront my dragon. The dragon drew in closer an closer until the steel of the jagged blade stopped suddenly. There was a moan and a grunt, a thick wetness surrounded the grass around me. 

My dragon was dead, the little boy, with the old sword could finally see the cool laid back fog, drifting away. I had never thought of life past the dragon, everything was new again. Another little fear, a near unnoticed fear nibbled at me, whispered it’s poison

“it’s a long way off?” 

“how will you eat?” 

“home, how will you make it back home?” 

Home is where the heart is, I will take my heart with me to the furthest end of that trail.