The rain was incessant throughout the days walk. Often trees collecting the water from the clouds in their hollow trunks emptied it from broken boughs high above them from in steady torrents. So many ancient trees abounded the path that at times it was like walking through a hundred waterfalls. The thought crossed the mind of Ibbero that the trees would pay a heavy price for the malice of the weather. The cursed, befouled, earth hater had finally found a way to strike at the heart of the ancient forest.

The paths misty end was obscured to their vision and only the faint light piercing the gloom told them it was not yet sundown. It was as though they were walking through a grey water curtain. In their mind eye Ibbero wished it could now be drawn aside to reveal a better clime. The pace was slow and they needed to make the great tree before nightfall. The forest was no place to be abroad in, when the light failed. Ibbero thought they needed something to uplift them and began to softly sing.

Where hearth and home forsake us let us lift our faces to these days

We look to the stars and shall see its face smiling behind the haze
For no grey malice shall cloud our way, no despite rent asunder
The path we have set ourselves; no matter how loud the thunder
Valiant and strong we will let none gainsay this; our vital mission
The truth is known to all of us and we shall deliver our attrition

Ibbero stopped singing and reflected on things for some time. How easy it would be to let go all that he cared for. Was not the spirit of man flawed the same vein with each new generation. They were ephemeral and weak; in equal measures and so ready to mask all others harsh existence with a selfish fear of their own possible indigence. They sought only to dominate and build vast coffers of wealth and property. Avaricious and proud to be so, without any remorse or sign of pity for their kin. Even the earth hater looked after his own better. While this thought took vague shape in his mind he sighed inwardly and yearned for the reason he was helping them.

The party suddenly stopped amidst the teeming rain and Asthralain dismounted. A deer was lying across the path and its right flank was rent and bloody. It tried to stand at her approach but its wounds were too great and it flopped helplessly to the muddy floor looking at them pitifully. Asthralain knelt on the ground by its side and wept. Yet her tears kindled a greater emotion than pity alone. From her belt she removed a small leather flask and emptied some of its contents onto her palms. The liquid sparkled briefly in the gloom like a vision of a celestial, wheeling galaxy as sometimes seen within the dying embers of a fire. The deer stared at her balefully and yet knew intuitively that this was an act of kindness she was to be given. Asthralain laid her hands on the wound and the potion crackled and shone briefly then disappeared into the cut as she recited the words of lore.

By earth and fire the evil harm was done

Now take no hurt in what you have won
The healing light of Saffa’s ancient wood
Takes away pain and make things good
 

The deer raised its head one last time and then fell silent. Asthralain took its head in her hands and gently cradled it softly. Tears streamed down her cheeks but she remained at its side till the healing took effect. The potion knit the sinews of the wound and fortified the deer’s will. Long minutes passed but the deer rallied and rose and with one long, backward glance disappeared in to the forest. Asthralain mounted her horse and the party continued.

Often it is said that doubt brings a response from the earth. Ibbero was satisfied in his faith in them but he turned to Asthralain and asked, “Why sister would you save that which may yet be attacked by wolves and die this very night?” Asthralain smiled and replied, “Because I could and because even if I couldn’t, then it was human to try.”

There lay his answer, he helped and fought for them because he could and because despite their frail resistance to temptation they wished always to be better. Though wishes do not make the future; enough strived to defeat that which they were born to. For the moment his faith was rekindled.

© Edetric Vistal

The Life and Death of Richard the Second

Act 2, Scene 1: Ely House.
Enter JOHN OF GAUNT sick, with the DUKE OF YORK

I did a rework of this most famous piece. It’s probably heresy on most levels to do this, but it is a great way to appreciate the depth and richness of Shakespeare’s writing. His writing stands the test of time and you know the only conclusion at the end was how amazing it still is; all these centuries later.

 

Perhaps a prophet inspired afresh am I

When foresight on him sharpens with my ending
That his hastened insurrection cannot continue
For this conflagration shall wither as all others
Like a brief summer storm, no long winter rain
Haste makes speed the less and tires a soul more
That the hurried morsel can choke with favour
Small vain inglorious snout to full weighted trough
Devouring its salaried arrow to its heart of greed
This royal seat of majesty, this enthroned orb
This good earth of kings, this rest of gods
Sat with Eden or Shangri-la or Xanadu
Yet built with strength to resist the attacks of time
No world ills , no act of war shall penetrate
This gallant and courteous island race of men
A gem of carat beyond count in a watery plane
It plays its part in the battlement against harm
A defence that is the buttress on a national wall
Against the covet ambitions of lesser realms
This land of forests blessed, this glorious Britain
Nanny to the fertile earth that spawns royal
Birthed noble among their equals and feared by all
Their reputation renowned through all the world
True soldiers of fate and God, gentlemen and giant
As is the truth consigned now to the vaults of heresy
Would not listen to the son of God and now pay
With the souls of its people blessed though they be
The world turns away from us now we are shamed
All is for sale, rent or barter, how can I live to say it
Like some befouled hovel or whores boudoir
Britain wrapped around with a proud, angry sea
Who rugged coast enfold, protect and repel all
Is now wrapped in shame tighter than my bonds
With inky blots and rotten parchment bonds:
That England, that was able to master others,
Hath made now a shameful conquest of itself.
That all this were but a dream that ends with my life
Then how happy would be now my ensuing death!

In life we walk the paths we are fated

In death now walk without shame or regret
For if pain were a test to enter heaven
You have earned your place with the blessed
Sleep now uplifted in the arms of mum and dad
To wake in paradise and finally be at peace brother

Philip 1959-2012

We walk out so young into the world and none of us can know the future. At some point we miss the path because to err, is after all; to be human. Most of us find our way back into the warming light of life’s spirit but some never come back to us. We are uplifted to know; that you are now in a better place, and finally at peace. Till we meet again all our love.

So now take the wait and count the cost

For a ruined life and this summer lost
The hardy heart that beats fit to burst
Point out the way for next summer’s mirth
Though momentarily lost in fleeting tales
This season will wane; rise up on spring’s sails
For if one thing is certain it is life renews
You’ll never win nor break these thews

© Edetric Vistal

Knowing what I know now
If I had just a small amount
Of your innocent vitality,
I could rule the entire world
Before we’d even had breakfast.

© Edetric Vistal

Nature doesn’t take any prisoners

To ride beside her through the cosmos
She wll make caricatures of us all
Within the cosmic clay she shapes bodies
She bestows naught but breath of instance
Time is pitiful in execution of the moment
Yet it is all we have and in that we err
For never was today and its joys, so, so fair

© Edetric Vistal

Bread and circus with pomp and jet

By far, by far, the best game seen yet
All stills majestic into muffled pause        
For what now sharpens nation’s claws
The clowns have all left the circus ring
Hope becomes a forlorn, lamented thing
So let’s wave to Caesar in his purple box
His work now done, he has fed the clocks
No hunger is felt, no angst is revealed
The iron of UK might becomes annealed
In all the assay of a long prepared redact
Where but England will I make this pact?

© Edetric Vistal

Am I truly born of this fanatical world?

Spawned in the same vein as Hephaestus
Aeons evolving among the solar winds of fate
Born inside time constrained within physics
To drift to now this planet and be so shamed
That evolution must be served without let
But to give up universality for mediocrity
I am not so ready to do that just yet

 © Edetric Vistal

What joy now the sun is to return today

Majesty in all with peasant demeanour
Saves naught but the echoes of memory
This summer caught in a maze of shadow
Finally rises out of walls of grey into dawn
Within the breath of this new perfect day

© Edetric Vistal

I took these tonight - a large group of insects catching the sunbeams of the setting sun. See how closely they resemble fairies. You can see how the people of old might be amazed on seeing something like this. I think these pictures are great and because the camera hasn’t a fast exposure it blurs the insects into an almost mythical silhouette.

Caught on a gleam of light

Taken to wing in solar flight
To weave dances on the suns shadow
Delicate filigree shapes of magic
Swirl and shift ethereal shapes
Rise and fall in separate rhythms
Heralding now the close of day
But to dance on into the moonlight
For they are the flowers of summer

© Edetric Vistal

I shall unfold my hand to remember it all

For into my palm is pressed one rose petal
I know not how it was placed there, but yet...
It is the one thing of beauty now left to me
In all this it becomes the focus of my world
For this one thing of exquisiteness is timeless

 © Edetric Vistal

Mythical beast or merely curiosity

Would that I could look up high
Into the hazed countenance of bliss
But yet still the witless shall wither
Wherein and wherefore the reason
For a world to go mad in fevered joy
Where none such joys assuage failures
Yet wit can astound greatly; even still
To act, to espouse, to ensure, to enliven
For not all in this world is worthless

 ©Edetric Vistal

The three types of Buddleia growing in the garden at the moment.

Reach not out for the hand when clowns and wizards stride

Though the sky is painted from seas to land in crimson and black
In layer upon layer of unattainable lore from antiquity; hide,
It avails naught to resist such foes even when we deem it is sooth
A power that forges gold to clay and lays it at the feet of Titans
Will at last be undone; finally grasped by the long reach of truth

© Edetric Vistal

And I open my palm and therein lay the butterfly

Caught so long ago that almost I had forgotten
Iridescence is the colour of the soul in flight
That returns to earth and awaits resurrection
 

© Edetric Vistal

Sat here in the short time I see the lengthening of a year

It rises and falls across the senses like a wave of time...
It falters on the boundary of my further forethought
Unravelling into the half light of a misty August evening
Then nothing; there is calm and from calm comes acceptance
That the world has changed and ever I have remained the same

© Edetric Vistal