A long day of battle
has drawn to a close.

The cold heart of man
now yielding to the chill of night.

Silence on every hill
our cries devoured by the darkness.

Victory! We claim.
As rubies formed from frozen blood
glimmer across the fields.

Unmoved and eternal
for this one night.

Its spires rose through the sky
cutting through the mist like beacons of hope.

Reaching to the skies
pointing to the heaves of which I can only dream.

Immutable, immovable, immortal.
Eternal they stand tall.

My journey is at its end.
Under these towers I shall rest.

Forever in their shadow I remain.

My world,
my space,
my being,
my soul.

Walk with me.

I am fire,
I am ice,
I am life,
I am death.

Walk with me.

Quelled by the path,
fixed into destiny,
swallowed by the drummers beat,
walk with me.

Walk with me,
you will be all you can be.

Take my hand,
there is no other.

Walk with me.

For whence you came,
you will never return.
My hand is right here.
Walk with me.

I will be your companion,
on the long road.

My place is at your side.
Fate is what it always will be.

Come on.
Walk with me.

Blood boils
heating the flesh
Chemistry twisting
all vision

Thoughts clutter
memories fade
darkness comes
the beast lives

Out of the void
the howl devours the soul
Pain becomes pleasure
feeding upon itself

The skin tears
every muscle screams
fury pumped throughout
and the fire burns

It calls
We abide

Darkness envelops all.
Its wake dusted with tears.

Dawn spreads its wings on the rice fields of the eastern lands, the mighty bird of life again arriving at the very place from where it departed into the memories of its subjects. Golden rays descend from the heavens to the realm below, long shadows telling the promised tale of another day. Another day to live and learn, another day for flight or fight, another day to atone for the days you have already lived through.

Life stirs, shadows dance, there is a certainty to the implicitness of the morning that comes. It carries its own promises, individual prayers answered or ignored, all to be told as the shadows trade their size for the hustle of a waking world.

Across a grassy field a blossoming plum tree greets yet another morning in solitude. The flowers gleam and dance in the sunlight, their translucent white petals shimmer, reaching to the heavens, refracting the rays and leaving a moment of prismatic joy in their wake. The slight winds coming as air is heated, only serving to rustle the flowers gently, further spreading the trees sweet scent. It has been there for so long and yet every morning continues to instill it with the same wonder, the same promise, the same faith. There will be darkness, and there will be light. It is the very heartbeat we now as the circle of life.

It grows to reach every goal
it expands in the space
between either promised land

Every reach
fails
as one hope grows distant

Left to its own life
it grows into the intermediate space
filling it with its being

Every season
every day
every heartbeat

The willow expands
into the hollow space
between the heavens
and the earth

Reaching neither

Always weeping
for what could have been

First truth

Again I wandered through the forest. This pearl of nature. But no longer green and sparkling with life, the coldness had come. Leaves where turning yellow, and shades of red sought to devour the remainding green. Only a few of the trees could show me the green beauty that was the forest, it’s very life. All the beauty I loved so highly was gone. Along the banks of Chiso I wandered this morning. This desolate time, where everything was to be forced to its knees and murdered. God how I hate this season. Not even the water is its own self anymore… Filled with all these signs, from yellow to red, all telling the same tale. And the mist was rising from the river, greying out the signs of life even further. King Winter has his chariot out.

Well, along the river I walked none the less. Bidding the forest farewell I guess, it’s the least a man can do. After a short while I passed a willow, a small willow actually, where a woman sat. Middle-aged, maybe around 35 or so. A beautiful woman she was, but then again, they all are, aren’t they? Small lips and a smiling face, radiating warmth even at a time like this. She was soaking in the view of Chiso, longing for a lost times, which have given so much. Longing for the past. I let her sit there, in peace. I’m not even sure if she noticed me… She was my last sight of the forest before I returned home, and waited for King Winter to leave us in peace.

Second truth

I came to these woods, this forest I’d missed so. This landscape of utter beauty. All there was, was this. Just the smell, the smell of a forest during the autumn. By the bank of Chiso, I came to rest. To borrow these woods, to borrow them for the briefest second in all its eternity. This display of colour I’d never forgive myself for losing. Autumn is a magic time. I love autumn. I sat there, watching the suns rays play joyfully with the mist of the water. Dancing, twirling, playing with each other. I sat there, enthralled by this magnificent dance to the melody only the forest could play. I love this season. This morning. This moment.

Oh how wonderful the forest is when it thanks summer for its warmth and pleasure. With such beauty. With a marvelous beauty the forest gives its thanks. I’m charmed into a dream watching over the water.

Who knows how long I sat there, by this willow, this willow I love. This shabby old thing which I visit every year. I already wait for the next autumn, when life again gives thanks, and awaits the next time it shall blossom.

Third truth

An early autumn morning by the bank of Chiso, a bit north of Oma, a thirty-two year old woman sat next to an old willow. She watched over the waters, and its misty realm. A man, eleven years her senior, quietly contemplating the womans thoughts, passed her. Yet her eyes never moved from the waters. The man left the forest, the woman stayed. While the trees where all colors from yellow to red.

She had a smile hidden away in her eyes as well. No journey you ever took with her ever left doubt about her care for every one around her, but you in particular — no matter who you were. You were the most important being around. You where the nexus. You where the key to it all, to the very universe itself. With her you where always safe, even from yourself. And in the end you where the only one you needed protection against.

Some said she was a quiet soul but it was more that her very existence made words obsolete. Once she looked at you, your reflection upon yourself became as natural as breathing. No, breathing still required a body to obey the mind, here there was no such clause. Your mind was all there was, as such every motion was immediate, absolute and free of any mortal coil. Your travels through these heavens was for all its beauty a stronger experience for your mind than for your senses. Seeing yourself as a speck of dust on an interstellar journey, heading to a destination anchored in the self. A dream quest of unknown realms. The magic of life became evident, the human condition becomes a marvel in the sea of the void, the idea of love, of passion, of soul moved beyond words into a transient space within your mind itself. Immovable for all time.

I knew her for the better part of my life and to this day I still could not tell you the color of her eyes. I can just try to put into words what they did to us all. She was a mother, not of blood, but of mind. We were all her children.

And the sand is eventually
followed
by tears.

Håvard, I hope you read this sometime. It’s been too long, I hope you’re doing well.