Advance review copies of Under the Shadow Volume I are already being distributed across the vast networking universe of the internet and the far vaster, yet forgotten in the fog of the information age, cosmos of the physical world. I’m proud of what I’ve written and I’m looking forward to the feedback that will take me to the next stage of the book, its release.
The experience I’ve had from day one of deciding to write this story through the present, of course has not resembled the fantasy that took shape in my mind. In the fantasy, the imagined outcome sits as a solitary mote of dust suspended in a light unto itself, and the rest of my life, which makes this dream have any importance whatsoever, lacks the power to intervene. But the stresses and joys of daily life, and the hard work it took to get to this point, wherever it may lead, give blood, sinew and flesh to the experience in a way a simple fantasy never can.
With that being said, here is an overdue poem about fantasy vs. reality from a sometime soon upcoming collection titled “On the Birth Of…”
No, not happiness,
That’s the wrong word
The wrong description, tiny and limited.
In that moment I saw
All my fears and fantasies that had been,
Cascade across time and galaxies.
An indescribable sensation that one tiny instant
Could forever change the course of every future day to come.
There, before my eyes,
Resting against her chest,
His little fingers pressed against
A ruddy cheek,
Laid this force of change bursting
To cut the feeble crease of his
Blood crusted human form.
Everything before fell away like shivering cloth
Leaving only a collection of half finished
Visions of growing old beneath laughing stars,
And failing more times than succeeding.
I would not receive, as I had so hoped,
Immediate pride and effortless fulfillment,
Nor see the thin needle of my compass
Heavy in the fog and icy dust,
Leading me back in true direction
To a carefree youth I never had.
But still all these years later,
A blanket of heavy wool reeking with worry,
Blessed the tears that rolled down my face at my first sight of him.
I was struck by epiphany in the truest sense
An understanding given by God, and not that of any book
Of human relevance or thirst for benevolent consciousness.
So of course I can make no sense of this understanding
Nor dream I could attain it. But in the same breath
Somehow, he is there as well, not as I imagined,
Or as he should be, but as he is. And who he is has,
For the most part already been decided by this same
God I would not even attempt to name.
And In his squinting searching eyes,
Glistening midnight blue in his first light,
Not for happiness, not for hope or worry or fear,
But for my love of everything I do not understand,
I pledged my life.