Sometimes, when I try to sleep, I lie awake and wonder what could I have done to be given these, these trials that I'd wish upon no man. To be away from loving heart Diane, and my son, Talon for so long. I surrendered my love to them and swore to protect and cherish them. Diane makes me see all of my faults that the world cant, yet in that its what drives me to be better. We have to hope there is a reason for all this, and rely on each other to endure, hold each other up when the weight is too much to bear.
My hands are those of a peasant. Tools Ive grown to use as taught by my father, and his before him. My mind was opened by my mother, showing me nothing is not within reach. My mind has always seen bigger, better things; grand possibilities and holds a key that opens dreams and brings them to reality. When brought together my voice carries the remnants of my parents and their hopes, and maybe my dreams speak to me of them and what they gave me.
A gift I was given was the heart to hold center Diane and Talon so that in all things I see, all things I read, and all things I hear can remind me of them and bathe me in such a light and warmth that nothing shines brighter. A gentle breeze whispers Talon's voice to a tired body. A single flower on a tree, up on a hill finds its way to her hair and touches my being, bringing me to my knee and laying my palm to ground. Her deep brown eyes can see right into my heart. Music dances in my ear, every song is played as tribute to the ages and what love can be. Every story was written, just for us. It's kept me true and is both my armor and cloth, to protect me from myself and wipe my tears when no one sees.
Every night on this shore sets my gaze to an open sea with a single star in the distance. These things I speak of keep me from casting myself to the deep, traversing wave and storm to reach it. I'm blessed and cursed with dreams so alive and vivid I can be both excited and afraid to call upon sleep, rest I know my mortal self needs. Our ancestors and perhaps all of us are connected in such a way that we can call upon them to guide us, to remind us that while our earthen frame is finite, our spirits are not bound by time and its cost. I've been to the mount and fought Titans for her, given kingdoms away, spent lifetimes in arenas, cold unforgiving prisons, held high seats and set blackend hand at the forge.
Ive been attacked by every darkness ethereal and material meant to drive men insane, and each and every time when I feel I've cast my last breath her voice awakens me and his tiny hand lifts me to his mothers gaze. One more battle, a hundred more steps to reach the summit. That is what our hearts seek. Many go through life without ever knowing the moments the gods somehow felt me worthy to experience.
I used to think like everyone else men do not cry. I can promise you we do, when the heart is so full and in times of pain. We just arent the greatest at showing it. We are bred by millennia of survival and task yet somewhere weakness became a display through a man's tears. This is not the case. Disappointment and fear to a man who thinks otherwise- a man before you with tears for his loved ones has already won when challenged. I can promise you that. To see the gods themselves step aside as one passes will tell you your heart is pure.
Once again, I turn my pillow, wipe my eyes and tell them I love and miss them. I will come home, a hundred more steps, one more battle. I will come home.