“my! but you are a beautiful damsel in distress! allow me to help you out of it.”
sometimes i dream.
sometimes they’re a glimpse into the future, and i must act on them immediately.
(my hunches are never wrong)
this isn’t one of those,
this was a “distant past” memory dredged up by something or other…
a glimpse of a scene. it’s rare that i need to string words together and even rarer that i record them.
for reference, “sylverstone the traveller” is my sca persona. who i am when i don’t have to be someone else to survive in the mundane world.
hearing a distant call… a friendly voice in the utter darkness of heartbreak unleashed, sylverstone raises his head. the puffy eyes and the tear tracks on his cheeks are impossible to hide…
feeling as if he is grown from the very rock upon which he lies, sylverstone tries to rise… and he cannot…
with much effort, he tries yet again… the strength he drew from the flame of the true love he felt from her has abandoned him to his fate.. in the cold dark clammy cave where he lies…
in the mundane world, sylverstone sits at the console… the (5) 21″ monitors on his desk casting a glow across him… the network switch led’s twinkling like the night sky .. the 96 machine beowulf cluster creating a low level hum as the scsi raid arrays seek and find whatever it is they’re working on..
idle cpu time being diverted to more important (ha) things like rc5 (overall) and rc5 (by host) … the entire room is like an altar to the technology gods.. queen – one vision spins up on the 350 watts a channel 6 way audio system and klipsch corner horns supplying the authority… puffy eyes, half asleep, but with a full belly, because the thoughtfulness of a friend has allowed him the luxury of food and drink, that has managed to stay down in his tortured belly.
in the real world, sylverstone is beaten. face down in a puddle, in a clammy cave where he dragged himself, trail of blood tracking back for miles to the entrance… he’s so miserable even the rats leave him be…
the voice.. the crystal clear sound of a womans voice calling his name.. reaches through the pain and the hurt..
and slowly, with much effort, sylverstone raises his head again.. and this time he can see the light… then the shakes stop, and the tears recede.. the pain ebbs a bit, as the sound of her voice drains the sorrow from him like a crimson blade drains the blood from a dragon…
in the far distance, there appears to be a dim light… as he slowly pulls himself up of of the cold stone of the dank cave, sylverstone crawls t’ward the light…
as the sound of her voice builds the strength within him, sylverstone stands, and walks… slowly, but walks nonetheless, t’ward the brightly glowing crystal that tops the staff she carries….
she has arrived.
someone who is fast becoming rather special to me said yesterday that love was a disease.
i’ll be the first person to say that love is the most important thing, the rest is just details …
but the above is the occasional result of it, and it makes me wonder, every once in a while, if i’m wrong.
… but if i’m wrong, then what purpose do i have?
… why is it that i do what i do?
— end of line —