Monumentum Immortalis

Stories lie everywhere and nowhere
.......I have heard so many already
.............Now you sit and listen

.......And you ask me
...............Why do I cry?

Stories are told in every tongue
.....Adventure, romance, comedy and tears
..............Many put to pen or memory so they remain

.....Still, you ask me
.............Why do I cry?

......................... Why do I cry, why do I shed my tears?

...................Often I smile, laugh and I rejoice
..........When I rejoice, you know I've heard
I've heard a story that will never end.

.......So you ask me
.............Why do I cry?

You have not heard the tales I have
........Listen to my voice and hear me now
.............I weep for the tragedy that was written down

..........I weep for the hero vanquished
I weep for the stories that come

I weep for the stories
.....That come to an end.

......So do not ask me
...........Why I cry, why I weep

......................Ask me what stories I know
...........Ask me what tales I remember

And ask me to make them immortal.

~<>~

Just a spot for musings, creative writing either indirectly or maybe not even related to your creations. From here, who knows what may happen. Inspiration may be sought freely from this corner of the Sea of Stars.

Or, tell stories of your own. Life stories, regale adventures of your creations -- or even amazing, amusing or otherwise of yourself. (Just keep it PG-13 or cleaner).

Mortal Wounds

The lad over there, do you see him?
He is dying.
Dying from a wound within himself.
Most do not understand why
For no wounds are seen.

But wounds are not always visible.
This one came from a lover from another world.
And I know who the lover is...



____________
Yeah. I have absolutely no talent whatsoever, but this was a COMPLETELY revamped version from a poem I did like *Counts* eleven years ago. I just vaguely remember some of the words from it. ...I remember it also contained "fruit" in there somewhere. *Shrug* Meh. There. I did something craptacular.

Heart of the Ocean

Candlelight gutters in the window
Flickering so soft to the sea
Bound for the heart of the ocean
Riding the sea with my soul
Watching there, where the black waters roar

Loyalties divided as ranks stand as one
From the cries of the land, terra firma, land
To the whispers of the heart of the ocean
Bound to the dark and the deep
Watching there, where the black waters roar

Dancing steps thunder on the floor
The bodhran beats a pulsing tale
And the winds cry the banshee's woe
When two and three tear from one
Watching there, where the black waters roar

Storm and gale come on the horizon
Cold, bitter wave pounding as a restless beat
Roving, the sea, rock me to sleep
Oblivion she claims 'neath the waves
Lying there, where the black waters roar

When the sea birds cry out on the shore
And the light beams miles and miles out
Calling in its thundering dark and deep
Friend and foe blinded from the other
Down below, where the black waters roar

Call me out, call me soon, call me free
Gales in the night, storms in the day
Oh, Mistress Ocean, a cruel one is She
Before long, surrender to her arms and slip away
Down below, where the black waters roar

Another slightly ancient piece, this oen done in '04.

~<>~

Two: An Interpretation

Two
Two human beings
So alike
So unlike
One another

One fights to stay protected
From the world's pains
One stands within
Walls
Walls that bare forth sharp words
That hide beneath something more

One runs, fleeing from the past
One walks on an eggshell earth

The other
Marches
To her own drum
Marches
Unafraid of cracking

The eggshell floor

Two
Two human beings
Ao unlike
Like night
Like day
Meet

Two so unlike
Meet
In harmony

A brief story done December 3, 2005. One of the catalysts to my relating people and inanimate objects.

~<>~

The Fortress

They built the fortress years ago. They had built this fortress preparing for a war bigger than any in the nation had dreamed of in their nightmares. They had been in the thousands, rallying under a flag of unity, loyalty and strength.
The men had been ready, as they had kept a strict regime. Not a single man had lost his touch nro gone rusty in his skill of the sword, bow, axe or spear. The kingdom was proud of them, as was their king. When the enemy had come, the nation was not surprised, no. They had in fact, won the war, carrying flying colours. Not a man was lost. Not a citizen was violated ot killed. Yet the fortress had gone under no banner, had no soul stride through its doors or down its halls.
The fortress was not needed.

The years had gone by. The kingdom had moved its center hub and abandoned miles of land. The fortress was left behind.
Time was its only war and the fortress was beginning to show signs of defeat. The stone had begun to crack. The glass windows had dusted over. The oaken doors bore signs of rot.
The key to the fortress was nowhere to be found.

The dynasty of kings continued on. The strength of the knights and warriors was passed from teacher to pupil and the people continued on with life. Oh, history was passed down from one generation to the next but one story remained silently lurking in the people's minds. The story of the old fortress just at the edge of the kingdom. It had been whispered that once, a few generations back, a war had been fought and the fortress was caught between borders. but not once had the fortress been inhabited by an allied troop. Not once had the fortress seen The sure strength that a warrior would die to protect it without a price in return.
And not once had the fortress seen a wounded warrior walk out of there hale and whole again.

"It still stands there, " the people say. "But no one ventures near the place. It's haunted." Haunted by what, no one ever tells.
"Besides, no one can get in. There's no key."
"No other doors? No other crannies or nooks?"
"Not a one. The place is locked tight. Ay rate, who'd want to go in there anyway? Who knows what hazards are in there!" the people say.
No one goes there. The kings and warriors have forgotten it. Forgotten why or how it was built, whom it was built for. They only remember that no one is wise to go there.
"Even animals stay clear! It's haunted. Creepy too."
"'Sides...There's no key"
No key to a locked keep.
No guard for a silent fortress.
No echoes of hearty laughter or tales of victory and strength.
Only ghosts of a forgotten fortress.

They say that some stories are best left untold...

Wooden Angels

I heard once not so long ago
A song that had a voice
So I listened.

I heard a voice not so long ago
It was a voice of mist, of mist
Spray, cloth and tar

It snapped in the wind so smartly
It creaked in the night so softly
And it thundered in the dusk

The song rang out loud and long
Loud and long through wind and year
I heard it in a whisper

I heard the wooden whisper
Crack of canvas and burn of tar
Thund'ring roll of carronade
Sang me to sleep from far away

I heard once a voice
That's silent to landsman's ear
Made quiet by cruel and clean
Progress

Progress that put to sleep
The crack of canvas and groan of wood

How I heard once not so long ago
This voice destined to fade
I listened hard along the shore
And I heard wooden angels

A Letter to My Creation

I've done conversations and the like between myself and my crazy little critter over the years. I've done letters from years ago but this is the first "letter to my creation" I've put to the public.
Have you ever done the same thing? Think this is nuts? Have a similar thing to say? Read on if you like or if you dare.

Renne,

How long have we known one another now? I know how long it's been. You began in 1992 as a badly-done picture by yours truly. It was really quite the awful little doodle, I must say but at seven years of age and not seeing squat, I didn't expect Picasso. Well, I expected Picasso to laugh at me, honestly. And I'm sure that somewhere in some alternate universe or afterlife, he did laugh and laugh heartily.

Anyway, I know you don't know it but that's how you started. You started as the little loner's childhood drawing.

You started whispering in my head when I was about nine. I drew countless pictures of you and got steadily better at it.

Eventually, I started writing, reading and just plain learning. You started speaking at about then -- speaking as in I knew what to write. I knew what to look up. I knew what to put down. You had a voice.

Eight years ago, I moved twice and as a result, packed up everything that I had done about you. But, eight years ago, I dragged it all back out and brought you into play.
And now here you are.
Your pictures are more defined -- clearly defined now. You've come into your own, but Renne, you've encountered some problems.

Your senses of honour, friendship, loyalty and courage are to most minds, either outdated or not understood.
Thus, by many, you are feared.

In many ways, I was glad when you became a nomad -- not allowing yourself to stay in one place for long. You didn't run the risk of forming attachments and thus, you didn't risk that deeply cultural sin of "Betrayal". But you missed out on a lot too. You missed out on the closeness that's quite needed for your kind to truly survive.
After Pendrell's death, I know. You couldn't take it. It was at the time, safer to be alone in the tower.

But you came out after Amadeus' arrival and subsequent things. I know, you don't speak of much on your life. No one asks, you don't tell. It's your way. You learned that after the McClaines, didn't you? I remember.
I was glad to have you come out again.

Yes, the rest is history but right now, some of that history has darkened.

Renne, sometimes I wish you had stayed autonomous. You didn't run the risk of going where you are now. And sometimes, I wish you could be more open. You might find what you're seeking out.
You've learned a lot.

You don't know how to use half of the knowledge you have.

How long have we known each other? Right, 1992. Long time -- fifteen years now. Most of that, you were just a whisper in the works. Now, you're flesh and blood. Of a sort.
You're not old yet.

You're not at the end yet.

You've had mostly fair-weather friends over your years, I know this. I was there. There are a few out there that are more than that. Far more than that. You aren't stupid.
You just need to know what to do, how to do it and why. I know you. You pick things apart and put them back together again. You pick people apart. You do it to understand and react as properly as you know how.
But Renne, you've survived this long.

Mostly on your own.

But even you need help sometimes. Now's that time. The tower was right for a while but this isn't Pendrell. This isn't the Bond tearing slowly apart in the same way.
It's just as intense. It's just as bad, I know. But you have got to let go of your autonomy and try.

For survival if nothing else.

That's a tale for another time. You're my creation. I know pretty much everything about you. You're truly mine. And I'm proud of that.
You're alive. You're faceted. You're the product of both whim and dogged research. You may scare the ignorant. You may anger the close-of-mind. You may even petrify the sheltered. But you instigate curiosity in others. You create wonder beyond "What the blazes is that?"

That's your favourite question, isn't it?

"What the blazes is that?"
And all you have to do is answer "Me."

I get the same question.

"What the blazes is that?"
And I grin and say "My creation."

Keep growing. Keep living. Keep going. Keep coming back to the homes you know.

Keep grinning every time you hear "What the?!"

--Your Creator

Yeah. Sadly, I have no stories. However, I cannot wait until Thursday. It's All Souls Day! It will be wonderful time to celebrate with all the spirits!

...Wait a tic. I do that already; but it will be even more fun!

Blame the Mexican-Half of me.

*Drools* Sugar Skulls.

Anywho! Costume for this year? A mesh between a "Wannabe" Guitar Hero God and '80s Hair Band. Yeah. It's gonna rawk!

Similar to what Renne-Mun did awhile back with Renne, I have decided to write a letter to Johnathan. ?But why now?? I ask myself that. Good question! All will be explained?
_____________________________________________
Captain Tapole,
It took me four years and two previous incarnations to get to you. And I apologize of giving you a last name that has one letter less than a newborn-frog.

The two previous incarnations all had the name you have been given, but sort of different personal Story-Lines. ?Okay, not really. I know you were giving me that look when you read that sentence. All three of you were inane outsiders who refused to befriend anyone outside their appropriate Harbours. You, ?Nathan. You are completely different than the first two?

Not only do I feel honored to write about your adventures?or right now in this set of Story-Lines, the mis-adventures?but I am also glad that you have come farther than the first two. Having you for over a year now, you have developed so well. Still the inane Sea-Elven that I have grew to love.

And speaking of Sea-Elven, I also apologize that your customs are oh-so similar to the Fae customs?I know those better than anything else. And Dragon-Customs, but we are not getting into that. And I know your question. The answer is yes. By my birthday, I will have it.

These past few months?correction?since the day after the Ides of March, your life?along with mine?has been wildly fun. Anger, sorrow, laughter, and insanely enough, love. Thank Renne and Dani-Renne for that.

Within a week or so, this set of the Story-Line may or maynot end. But either way, not to worry. Not only do I have so much more planned for you; but I am certain that Renne and Dani-Renne will be more than happy for us to tag along. And if not, then we shall go on. ?But I am hoping that they will allow us to be the insanely-in-love kids that we are to them.

Forever your ghost-writer and Creator,

Lyea.

P.S. You are my favourite Johnathan!

*Always* you are welcome here as long as I have this folder. And even if for some reason it gets taken down, though I doubt it will, if it does, I'll create a storyboard of my own again where I know it won't be removed. And there, you'll be welcomed too.

Do as you feel but remember you're not alone.
Besides, Renne still owes Cinder that adventure.

I won't say goodbye because goodbyes to me mean forever.

-R

MMMmmm... Orange Chicken in general has been the downfall of my hunger many many times. Panda Express is a plus.
Then again I love Chinese and Japanese food... or any other ese's. Thai is good too... yum.

Just stopping bye and saying hi to you both, kinda bored right now and uncertain of Cinder's plans. So we have snow here now on the forum, it's kinda annoying. How was everyones thanksgiving or turkey smurkey day?

Alright, take care.

=)

What she said. Yeh, Dead Bird Day was decent, though I learned about the gravy. And yes. You are very missed.
Maybe sometime the three of us can bring our critters out and just have a party. :-)

Touch of Nowhere
By: Renne

Finding roads to nowhere
And walking nowhere on

Times there will come when I
Wonder when, where

Why.

I have not been everywhere
Proudly and not I say I have

Been to nowhere
And back.

Hearing songs and finding tales
Of something legendary, rare

Wondering

If it exists at all.
And when the mighty stand back
To ask where, when and why

I will ask them what
They have seen

Paths crossing and never touch
Friends with names left unknown

Going it alone until
Falling, rising, standing, falling

Again

And asking
Who, why, when and where

To go

Eventually finding, learning
Understanding

The treasure
Living treasure
Untouchable, invisible, inaudible

But there.
Asking, answering, running, walking

Learning who and why and when
Roads cross over and when they

Touch

Let them
Touch deeply

And let them run alongside
Finding everywhere, nowhere
Asking and understanding

Why I come back.

Hello all... I, ah, I've been in a strange mood... my muse has been stirring in the most unusual ways... I haven't written poetry or songs for a while but now... well... I hope you don't ax it too bad.

"So far away"
By me


So far away...
So far away...
Your voice no longer reaches me...
I tried to hear your voice again...
But you're far away.

I took a step,
From boy to man,
I tried to reach my home again...
But you're far away.

Where can I find my home again?
When can I come home again?
Why... why...
Am I so far away...?

This lake of tears...
Is filled with tears of the damned...
The salt within, burns the flesh...
Will you try to brave the way...
Or will you remain far away?

I add my tears to this lake of cries,
And swim my way across,
But still the shore escapes my touch,
It's so far away...

I fall beneath the top...
The surface closes in.
But still I breathe,
And make my way...
To that 'far away'...

I hear your voices,
Soft as wind,
Whispers on the air.

You call for me but
I can't exactly say
Why you're far away.

These dried up tears
Leave sand and dust
I fight my way
To earn your trust
But now I find
The way is barred
Someone has rent
All I thought spent
To something new
And something true...

Something I cannot fight.

I struggle to find
Our far away...
But now I find...
You're so far away...

So far away...
So far away...
But how can you wait...

Your voice whispers in my ear...
How can you have made it here?
The wind that carries voices sings
Of how you always knew I'd stay...

So far away.

The distance spans
Across the years.

You said our bonds
Were broken in.

I fight to fix what
Once was whole and
Yet the way is always closed
I struggle through these endless years
I feel the raining of your tears
I'll drink them down
And take your pain
If only you would say my name

Say my name...
From so far away...
Now let me drink
Your tears away...
The greatest gift I ever gave.

The poison grips my neck...
And guides me by the hand...
Will it guide back to the promised land?
I feel it taking me away...

Will it take me home?
Will I meet you there?
Am I still
So far away?

So now I wait...
For your embrace...
Now that you're...

...so far away.

::chuckles:: No, you're hardly intruding. Really, I'm quite glad to find faces peeking about the Stars to see what's going on.
And even better is when those faces speak up. That one of yours, I found quite good. :-)

::grins:: Thanks and you're welcome here anytime!
May the Muses cast a smile upon you.

Forgive me if I am doing this in the wrong, but I assume I may discuss more about Lay your head down troubled one here.

For the latest post Cinder has become quite defeated and feels alone, he has recurring dreams and memories of times he had missed for so long.

His sister Sessuna whom he has briefly mentioned when confronted in RP if he has any family and in one part when Vic'te had visited Plygrethia and stumbled upon the bedroom door to her room which was sealed by Cinder. He looks up to her, still does to this day, he always felt young in her eyes and weak however she was guarding him from her fears of his magic power It?s why his sister had always promised to protect him and that she would never leave him. There was a line when she was going to mention about those who are visited the goddess everyday day, it is sort of an unlucky even for those who do, most go mad.

Rvheressa, Cinders true name in Ferish but it means Cinder or Quiet Fire. It was briefly mentioned in the last story with the Larooma, and if you RP with cinder at times when he is drunk he will not respond to Cinder only Rvheressa.

Delliah, meaning Love in Ferish was the faithful cat and partner in crime when Cinder was going to be sent to trial for illegal activities and countless crimes agsint the order of the Minstrum. Delliah has often clued Cinder in when he or even under the guise as Jennifer could not be around to hear it. When Renne was in jail it was she who informed him of his situations, for Cinder could not allow himself into the city that often nor expose his illusion as Jennifer as somebody who knew Renne. However there was two occasions that he did visit as her and flirted with Gaston and gave his friend some nourishing sugar cookies.

There are more dreams perhaps more references and I apologize for adding this if this be where not one should do so.

Thank you for keeping me here at your forum for so long and not charging me one penny for rent, though I could toss waffles if provoked.

A perfect night while all are asleep.
A trembling heart dreaming.
A distant world of the dark.
A love beyond her grasp.
A desire for eternity. - Rewa