Ying or Yang Choice

The mind is like a pool of water. When it becomes agitated it is difficult to see the bottom of the pool. But if you allow it settle, and clear, the depth of the answer you are looking for will appear.
 Your life may not of had such a happy beginning. However, that will not define who you are. It is only the path in life you choose, that in the end will define who you really are. Anything is possible with understanding. To understand ones destiny, is a road less traveled by many. Finding your way to let go of the past, knowing those thing no longer matter, that the only things that matter are the choices you make now, and  that in itself will lead you to the destiny, and peace you seek. 
By moving on with your life, by letting go of the past, you become a better person. A enlightened individual if you will. By knowing that what you do now matters more now than the past, and that the choice you make now, can not only effect your world, but that of others, and will help guide you to make the correct choice. 
To be Happy or Unhappy, Content or Uncontented  Positive or Negative, To being Peace or Destruction. The choice is yours alone to make. Life is like a pool of water. The pool is formed one drop at a time. So to is life, each action becomes a drop. Each drop becomes part of the pool, blending, and flowing with the rest. Each choice you make, whether good or not so good, becomes part of the pool of life. Always remember the pool you create called life, defines who you are and if you have peace or turmoil in your life. So choose wisely the drops of life in your pool that others may see, as the drops define your very soul.

The Healing

Cold steel will cut the flesh deep,and the wound will throb and burn. But the flesh will heal and scar, and fade with time and natures help.
So the question is, what will heal, what soothing balm will ease the pain of a lanced and wounded heart. What will heal the deepest wounds upon the deepest part of the ones own soul?
Marks upon the flesh will fade with the passing of time, and loss of pain. To be forgotten, and lost in the minds vast memory.
But, when the heart is wounded the scars, and pain remain unhealed long after the loss of one loved. And yet, even with time a heart may heal, although never will it be the same. For a love once found is never lost, it will forever have a name.

Fire Lake Revisited

We are back at the Lake. The cabin is so nice, and warm. As I look out the window, the view of the Lake is breathtaking. The snow is on the ground, just a light dusting. The trees have a light covering of snow on them, making the pines even more beautiful. The small Creek that runs by the cabin, has water trickling over the rocks. Even in winter, that stream still runs.

It's been two years since I met her, and now, here we are again where we first met a each other. As I recall, that was then the full of the year. Now here we are, close to Christmas, two years later. Time flies, when you are happy. The fireplace is so warm, and cozy. I had A new sofa brought to the cabin. A love seat, if you will. A beautiful hunter green. Of course I still have that old leather wing back chair, and I have added to the old bookcase. I never thought once, that we both could be so happy. She is in the kitchen, cooking something special she said. I don't know just what it is, but it smells really good. I just brought in more wood to get warm, and dry for later. The lake has spots of small ice on it, and with the reflecting sun on the ice, makes it looks like dozens of small rainbows twisting, and turning with the wind and current.


Lunch is ready, she calls. As I go into the kitchen I get a funny feeling, I cant put my finger on it as i sit at the counter she brings me my lunch, and whispers in my ear, surprise, close your eyes and smell. Do you remember? As I close my eyes and inhale deeply, I am shocked to find myself thinking of the first time we met. A picture her flying for cover behind the couch,with her black silken hair flowing wildly through the air, and bingo! It is the same as the first meal we ever had together. She smiles, and nuzzles my neck. Do you remember? she asks. Oh yes I remember, do we really have time for lunch? She Simply smiles and takes my hand then asks, shower first, and then... yes and then hot coco? That would be nice silk, that would be very nice. This cabin has magic in it. That magic you ask? Well that magic only comes from one person her name is simply.. Silk! My love, My life, My friend, Silk, a woman of amazing grace, talent, and most of all, Love.

Just A Piece Of Cloth

Several years ago, I was reading a local paper, and in it they had a column that a woman had written called (after all) In this column, she had written about the American flag being burned. She had made the statement that we should not be upset because, after all it was just a piece of cloth, and this was just freedom of expression. This had upset me greatly, and others as well. To burn the American flag, was in my view very wrong. The flag is our national symbol of freedom. The following is how I responded to her published comments.


To the editor: Hello Cindy R. On reading your column, you have made some very valid points. I however do not agree with you, as is my right. I am 50 years old. When I was in school the first thing we did (before we opened our books) was to say the pledge of allegiance. This instilled pride in us, and gave us a feeling of just how great we are as a nation. It also helped us to remember what we fought, and were fighting for, and still fight for today. You do remember the words, don't you? Here, let me refresh your memory. It goes like this.


I pledge allegiance to the flag of the united states of America, and to the Republic for which it stands, One Nation under God indivisible with Liberty and Justice for All.


The pledge allegiance. Liberty and Justice for all, what a concept that is, but we no longer say that in our schools, such a shame. However, we now have children being taught in school that it is okay to burn the flag. That it is okay to tear away at the government, threaten teachers, spit on law enforcement, steal from someone for no reason just because they feel like it. Hey, I don't like the sound your voice teacher, are you try to mess with my fragile Ego? Please forgive me, sorry I raised my voice to you child. This happens in our schools all the time. Ask any teacher when is the last time the corrected a child without fear of being reprimanded for it. LETS GET REAL FOLKS!!

I cannot for life of me find it in my heart to stand by and let someone burn the flag. Burn the flag in front of me and you just as well call the doctor and the sheriff with the cuffs. Because UNLIKE YOU I WONT TURN AWAY. I will stomp that person in the ground. My son's, my grandchildren, my family, and hundreds of thousands of people like me, have made a choice to support that cloth.

I can just hear you now, what Neanderthal jerk that guy is. Well Cindy, like you said, that is my right. Let's take your comment about the flag in context quote from the papers last five lines quote (on second thought I think everyone who has fought for freedom under our flag was fighting for what the flag represents, not for the piece of cloth itself. If people look at it that way how can they take it personally when the cloth is just desecrated) UN quote.

Cindy let me ask you this. Have you seen a dying man clutch that piece of cloth, to gather his strength from the cloth, and charge the enemy to win the day? Or, have you see that cloth at the top of the hill, and and one man stands alone defending that cloth with his last breath as the enemy tears that cloth from his dying grasp. Have you ever seen someone buried with full military honors, and that cloth is laid across his or her casket till at the end, After the final taps are played, and the rifles crack 21 times that cloth is given to the survivors. Have you ever wondered just why on Memorial Day that millions of little that cloth are put on the graves of vets? I will give you a clue it's not for the fun of it.

Cindy, I Must confess to you, that I find it hard, very, very, hard to believe that you have any pride in your country, your home, or yourself. I can understand not wanting to get involved. For by becoming involved, God forbid, you have to make a choice between turning your head or standing up for what is right I understand it's easy to turn away from things that you just don't want to see.

But ask your self this, that vet in the wheelchair that caught some frag in his back who will never walk again, when that cloth is burned how do they feel the widow the orphaned the man or woman who still waits not knowing their fate of a loved one who is MIA now let's see.... Now most vets from World War I are dead a few are still around from World War II Korea Oh.. that was just the police action Vietnam? OH WHO THE HECK CARES !!! CLOSE MY EYES AND IT WILL BE ALRIGHT. Never mind Honor, Discipline, Character, Common Sense, Bravery, Sacrifice. We need to forget that, and be politically correct.

Morally right, Legally right, Politically correct, to pray or not to pray? Such choices are times hard to make. But made they must be. If by some remote chance I may have stirred some feeling deep down, their is yet hope for this world. But, if not I would like to take one last try.

Ask yourself:

If the American flag is (just a piece of cloth) that is OK to burn, why should we then get upset if a Bible is burned? Or how about the Declaration of Independence? All the books of one kind or another that you find, that is disagreeable. Hitler did that, and people like you turned a blind eye. They thought, like you. I DON'T WANT TO MAKE A CHOICE after all... on second thought, ITS JUST A PIECE OF PAPER.


Just a note from the author:

As I type this out, I have one last note for you. Food for thought, so to speak.

Mark Twain (Samuel Clemens) was a great author in his time. His writing of Tom Sawyer is a great book, and I have a first edition given to me by my grandmother, when I was eight years old. His wording, and story, tell of America's past, both good, and bad, and reminds us just how far we have came as a country. Now, because of our times, it is not politically correct to read this book in school as it was written. Such a shame! It is now being rewritten to be politically correct so our children can read it in schools.

Funny? I thought great works of litterateur were to teach our children to grow. At least my grandchildren, and great grandchildren will be able to read the UNCENSORED VERSION.

I wonder who is next? Shakespeare comes to mind, Romeo and Juliet ? Oh wait, to late, its been made a movie.

The Three Women in My Life

Any man who is married, to be happy must have three women in his life. That's right, I said Three Women. Now don't get me wrong, just let me explain what I mean.
First is the wife, the mother of your children, the schedule keeper, and the housewife. She makes sure you have all you need for the day with a smile, did you forget anything, I love you, and a kiss.

The Second is your lover. She is full of passion, and loves you with all her heart. She would do anything you ask of her without question, knowing that pleasing you is the most important thing in her life, and trusts that you would never wrong her no matter what happens.

The third is your friend. You can tell her anything. You can sit for hours and talk about what bothers you, how your week went, your triumph's, and your disappointment's. Or you can talk about nothing much at all. You know she will listen and understand.

Yes, I have three women in my life. Over the years (thirty nine to be exact), I have had the pleasure of knowing, teaching, and learning from all three. It is a curious thing, having these three women in my life. When I got married I never expected the have this happen. The love, Devotion, Comfort, Passion, and Understanding from these three unique, and separate women, is astounding to say the least. Let me give you a example.

My wife Knows exactly what I love to eat, and makes sure I get it when I least Expect it. Oh, yes, and I better eat it because she fixed it special for me, if you get my drift.

Now my lover on the other hand is something else. She can be the most vexing woman in the world just to get me started, and then laugh and get me so hot and bothered I can not help but laugh and hold her close. As I look into her eyes I see the sparkle of devilment, and her deep heated passion of life for me.

Now as to my friend. What can I say? She understands all my moods, and has a kind word of understanding, and hope. She listens to everything, knowing I just need someone to talk to. You know.. I think that's why I love her so much. She never judges me, and always is their when I need to talk.

By now you must think me a terrible cad, cheating so on my wife. But you miss judge me as well as all the men who know about and have the joy of the three women in their lives. Are we wrong to have such joy in our lives? No, we are the lucky ones. For not every man is as lucky as us to have a wife lover and friend in one woman we married. That's right! I am talking about my wife. God I am so, so very lucky that I found her. Or maybe, Just maybe She found me. Either way, I feel blessed.

The Last Leaf

I have often wondered throughout my life what it would be like to be the last leaf on the tree so to speak. Now in the Autumn of my years growing nearer, I come to realize that it is no fun to be the last. You have no one to talk to about the things you know about. Moreover no one cares, or can relate to what you are talking about. I come from a small town and most of the people I knew are long buried that includes some of my class mates in school.

A gas station owner George, strange man with the gift for gab, always had time to talk, and gave me the best financial advice as a boy. Freddy, he would say, If you ever want to have any money when you get older, pay yourself first. A dollar a day, and in twenty or thirty years you will be amazed at how much you will have. I wish I would have followed that advice. Then the older folks I mowed lawn for,like miss Crouch. Always made the best gooseberry pie with ice cream and black English tea. Or miss Carter, she lived about thirty feet away from the T.P. an W. tracks. Her husband used to work for them as a conductor, and she gave me his old railroad lantern one day, it may have been a bit rusty but it was a great lantern. the lantern had a handle on the back you could hang it from that also. the globe was about six inches tall and five inches across with a concave mirror in the back to shine even brighter. I took it fishing a lot.

And then miss Rosenboom. I will never forget her she could not speak much English. One Christmas her granddaughter wanted to go to church services. Joyce asked me to stay with her while she was gone. I never felt it right that she should miss out so I got a song book and sang Christmas songs to her. I'm not much of a singer but she enjoyed it. Then lets see, Abe Richart had the grocery store, Earhart the sheet metal, Belands the tavern, Leo Shibe the other grocery store, Jim Payton the restaurant, John and Robert Hoffmaster, the hardware store. I will never forget Herman the old guy with the glass eye who worked for bob and john,  William Bruniga Sir the Plymouth garage.

The town main street area was destroyed by a train wreak years and years ago on fathers day. Funny thing though, I remember the town like it was yesterday. I remember the smell of the smelt Fry's on Friday nights at Leo's. The dim street lights with a soft glow all their own bathing the town with a Erie light in the early morning fog. How the curbs were two feet tall, and a concrete ramp at one end of the block that gave you the best thrill riding your bike off of it into the air. The old Texaco station at the junction had a flowing well with the best tasting water and it made your soda sooo.. cold, you would get a brain freeze if you drank it to fast. The old wood floors would creak under foot, and were easy to walk on. Minors idle hour restaurant and bar. Now that place, I learned to shoot pool, and to read peoples actions. And lets not forget the old bank, It was fun to play in. The old T.P.W. depot was a fun place to play. I remember the over sized wooden office chair. The leather seat was torn with stuffing's hanging out, but it still sat comfortable. Sitting in the chair at the telegraphers post you could see both way's. When the train came blasting through, the echo between the elevator and depot was deafening to say the least, but the thrill of being so close to the train and still safe was awesome. Then their was the two grain elevators, and the big corn cribs. My best friend Tony Walker, and me climbed all over in them catching pigeon's. Pigeon's, now that is a story all by its self.

The old stock yards, that was always fun. Barn swallows were so many in that place, and so tame. You could climb the gates, and get within inches of the nest to watch them feed the babies. Back then, we had two of everything in that town for the most part. Two grocery, three restaurants, two bar, two hardware store, two sheet metal, two welding, four gas stations, Shell, Texaco, standard, Sinclair. A feed store, telephone switch board, and post office. And yes, it was a party line.

For the ones reading this, a party line was, every one in town was hooked up to a switch board operator who controlled all town calls. You had a certain ring like two shorts and a long and you answered. BUT... if you wanted to know what was going on in your block you waited till the other person picked up then listened in. I caught a good whipping if I made noise while mom was listening in on someone. Now times, most cordless phones can be picked up with a older scanner. Yes, my mother has a older scanner, and still listens.

The last leaf. I wonder.. I guess that means we have lived longer than most and remember the more simpler, and trusting times, before the world got so, Oh so , very crazy. Know what? I have knowledge and memory's of a lost world. When things get hectic, and others are lost, I can find comfort in the knowledge of the past remembering simple times and passing on what I have learned to my grandchildren. It just May be I am Not the last leaf after all. Passing on my knowledge to my grandchildren, will make them the last leaf on a fading tree of the past.

Thought's of Love

We all say at one time or another to that special someone I LOVE YOU. But, in retrospect, to fully understand just what those three words mean, you must feel the truth of the spoken words. I find that the meaning has just as many uses as your clothes!

While some may say it to gain favor, others use it as a temporary promise of devotion. Still, others will use it as a crutch, or use it to gain a means to a end. The list is endless and ever changing. Now days, it is strewn about as often as needed to gain what is needed without any real or imagined meaning of purpose.
It is truly a sad state of affair's. Now days, men, and women, change partners as often as changing their clothing. Why? Well, that is hard to explain. In the past (I Love You) meant something. It meant that you felt strongly about that person, and wanted to spend the rest of your life with them. It was a commitment you made to that special person, and never wavered from. If you got sick your partner was their for you. If disaster struck neither of you bailed out, you stuck it out together. Not the case today! If something goes wrong someone will bail out for greener pastures. such is life and times now days.

The other day I was helping a friend, and heard a young boy on a cell phone to his girl. As the conversation went on, he said, I love you too. I asked him later, do you really love her? His reply threw me for a loop. He stated yes, yes I do. I love her very much. Your only 15 years old, how do you know what love really is? Well, he said, I cant stand to be without her. She makes me feel good just to have her around next to me. I feel sad knowing she is sick. And if that's not enough, the touch of her hand on my neck makes me shiver. And, I think that I would give my life to keep her safe from harm.

Woe, woe hold up. do you really mean that? Sure, why not? I think she feels the same as me. How many other girls have you felt this way about? None, my other girlfriends all left as soon as my money was gone. She doesn't care about money just me.

What a treat, to have a fresh outlook for a change. I very rarely have a chance to see the positive side. Maybe, just maybe, the world is changing for the better. He is only 15, but still has the righ idea. If only a very few at a time change, one can only hope it will get better.

Simple Times

The years fly by and you become nostalgic. You wish times were simple again, and your life not so complex. You withdraw to your inner mind, to find the peace you so badly need. You remember your childhood, and growing up. You fondly remember your grand parents, spoiling you with love, (and sugar) and teaching you new things. New to you, but passed to them from their grandparents with care and love.

Passed from old to new, new to old. The cycle of life, and how we learn, never really changes that much, just the form. I remember one grandfather teaching me how to milk the cows, feed the hogs, collect eggs, and use the heck out of that man or beast salve in a yellow can from Watkins. Grandpa used that stuff for everything on the farm, from cuts to greasing a gear. The stuff stunk like sulfur, but worked great. Grandma loved to make cakes and popcorn for me. And that home made cake icing just could not be beat.

My other grandpa taught me how to shoot, and fish. How to build a box trap for rabbits, set a snare, and how to hunt rabbits with only a stick in the winter. Grandma used to make the best oatmeal cookies, with raisins and walnuts. God, those were good with real cow butter on them, and cold milk. She kept them in a granite pot, with a tight lid, and a slice of apple to keep them soft. On a cold wet rainy day i would skip school and sneak in the house and butter a few, grab a glass of milk, and go hide in my cabin out back. I would curl up with a comic book and a old blanket, and dream. She loved to cook on that old cobs, and coal stove. She had gas, but to cook in the winter you could not only cook your meal, you could keep your house warm, and save money too. Folks were a lot more thrifty then, not like today's throw away style of living.

Time was simple then. On summer vacation, I would climb grandpa's apple tree to the top. I had a old burlap sack my dad gave to me, nailed, between two branches like a hammock. Can you just imagine how that felt, on a warm summer afternoon in the top of that tree. Your eyes closed, swaying with every cooling breeze. It was like you were adrift in the clouds, and one with the universe. Sounds corny don't it. I used to tramp the old munchkin drainage ditch line through town. Hunting and fishing in that old ditch seems kind of silly now, but not then. My fondest memory's of some of my friends, are in that ditch line. Patty, Benny, Ginger, Rusty, my good friends, how I miss you.

Patty, a cocker spaniel, loved to run with me but would always stop at the fence line and stay on top of the bank. Benny, a mix of lab and Heinz 57, was a short slick black haired dog, game for anything, and would chase muskrats all day if I let him. Ginger, a beagle, was a dog you could hunt rabbits with, without a gun. Just listen for her last yelp, and you would find a rabbit. Rusty, a Shepard, was always on the lookout for something to chase, dig out, or fetch what I shot. I remember one time we were trying to get this groundhog, and he looked so funny with his butt sticking straight up in the air ninety degrees, tail swinging in circles, and half way in the hole on the top bank.

As much as we would like to have simpler times, unfortunately, it is not possible now days. The closest we can come to that now, is to unplug, turn down, and just sit still for a few minutes.

No, wait, If we do that we might miss something. Too late, I am in my memory's, off in another world of my own, with my friends. Please take a note, I may be gone for some time. My friends, my friends want to play.

Regrets of Life

It seems just the other day my life started. Have you ever felt that way? Felt that time has some how slipped by you to the point you are now at. That you have missed the use of your life. A fact of life is you are born, you live, then pass. Most folks feel cheated, that time has passed so very quickly for them. In truth, that just was never the case.

Time is time! The thing that matters is what you do with the time you have. You can waste it away, or you can live it to the fullest. Simple, right? Well.... yes and no. The real question is what you want from life. Some must always seek a challenge, while others are content with sitting back and letting life happen. Still, others are never satisfied. The only regret I have, is that I could not spend more time with my family and other's in need of help.

Still all in all I have had my fun, and lived the best I can. I provided for my family and helped others the best that I could. I guess that says a lot for my life. Still... I wish I could do more.

I was thinking the other day about time and how we as humans perceive time itself. A old saying goes like this. Yesterday is the past, Tomorrow is the future. But,today is a gift that is why it is called the present. I thought to myself and decided this.

I am not going to dwell on the past or worry about the future. The past is gone and can not be changed and the future doesn't exist. All we ever have is in front of us right now this very instant, and it is always now. So we should be content and at peace with that.

Regrets? No.just a lot of wonderful memories. After all, isn't that what we end up with when all is said and done? As we take our last breath all we can take with us is our life's memories. Sweet or Bitter, that is all we can take with us. As for me... I choose to remember the Sweet.

The Voice

Many years ago in the gray early morning hours, I found myself past the pleasure's of drinking the night away. I was in need of a rest as the dew settled on the fresh green carpet of grass, My new found friend and I had gotten very drunk that night. As we sat and conversed, with my head felling like it was about to explode we were interrupted.
I heard a sound. A sound so sweet and and gentle. A sound so alluring and gentle, I was completely mesmerized by it. My pounding head started to ease, and I was caught in its soft tender web of rhythm. A musical melody you ask? No, such a sound can not be produced by a mere instrument. I was in panic, and loosing control of my very will. In my altered state of consciousness, the sound blended my very thoughts. It was so sweet, so soft, that i started to envision myself at peace. I tried to fight the overwhelming draw,but in the end I was consumed by it. As I turned to face this compelling sound I found what was producing the sound was even more enchanting.

It was about five foot tall, and covered with a dark heavy blue cloth, to shield it from the morning chill. A ivory colored top was exposed as a hood fell back, then, a long soft entanglement of bright copper red hair flowed down her shoulders to almost her waist. A young woman standing on her fathers porch, looking with concern at her brother and I. She asked if I would like something to eat, and I replied yes, yes I would, thank you. Would you like some coffee, she asked. No thank you. I would take some tea if you have it though. Great she said, I like tea also.
As she busied herself cooking and making the tea, I watched her with great interest. she was three years younger than me, with a nice figure from what I could see. She was full Irish, you could see that in her freckled face, and bright red hair. As she served me breakfast, we sat and talked. After we had eaten,she offered me the couch to rest on till I felt better. I excepted with many thanks.

When I awoke several hours later, I looked over to find her curled up in a large chair across the room watching me so I would not fall of the couch. We talked some more, then I left , with the promise I would be back to see her again. Little did I know that this was the start of many adventures we would have together.
We have been married thirty eight years now. And that young girl with the fire red hair is older now. Her fire red hair has turned to amber. We have both grown older, but I still see that young girl on her fathers porch calling to me. A perfect vision for the rest of my life. It is rather funny in a way. Thirty eight years later, when I look at her, I still see that fiery red headed girl. If I am very lucky it will be the last thing I see when I close my eyes for the last time.

Foolish Heart

After a while you learn the subtle difference between holding a hand and calming a soul.
You learn love does not mean learning and company does not mean security.
You begin to understand that kisses are not contracts, and presents are not promises.
You begin to accept the differences with the grace of a woman wise, and not the grief of a child. You learn to build on the road of today, because tomorrows ground, is to uncertain for plans, and the future has a way of falling in mid flight.
 
After a while you learn even the sunshine burns you if you get to much. So you plant your own garden, and decorate your soul, instead of waiting for someone to bring you flowers. You learn that you can endure. You find you have worth, you are strong, and you learn. You learn with every goodbye that your heart has turned to bitter ice, that even the best things seem tasteless.
You wither and fade loosing hope that you will ever find love. To late you realize that you let the years slip by, and now you see, you finely learn.
 
The present is what slips past us, while pondering the past, and worrying about the future.
Your last and finale lesson has a bitter taste. You built your walls to protect yourself you said, but in truth you were afraid. Afraid of taking what life had to give. The joy and the sorrow. You console your self with fact that you protected your self from all things.
Then you think, as you watch the old couple in the park walking, and holding hands. A tear comes to your eye. That could have been me. That could have been me, but for the walls, Dam those forlorn and forsaken walls. Dam my foolish heart. I am alone, so alone....

Heros Lost

When I was a kid I had many hero's. My dad, the lone ranger,sky king,the old man on the poster saying I want you,JFK, Mr.king, yes I was a 60's kid. We needed hero's then, to help us see the good we could do as individuals. A hero then could make us want to change the world for the better, and we knew we could if we just tried. We could sing to the wind, and knew in our hearts we would someday fly to the stars. All we had to do was dream, and be bold enough to take up the torch. To dream the dream of greatness, and act on that dream, that alone, that, was all we needed.

But someplace along the line, we lost our way. We became lost when our hero's were shot and killed,their mission in life cut short. We forgot what they were saying to us. Our dreams turned into fog. Our minds numb, we lost all our hero's. Forgetting what they taught us, we stumbled blindly in the darkness of our own making.

The world now is the same no matter where you go. War, poverty, famine,hate. city's filled with smog, cars bumper to bumper, gray Sky's, acid rain, a bleak picture indeed. Is it any wonder we grasp for straws? That, we become so hungry for what we lost that we try to create a hero. We see ourselves in comic book hero's.

Are their any real hero's left, or are we just chasing ghosts in the hollow shell of our minds. Can we turn a blind eye to the aging winds that sigh through the trees? Do we dare to forget all who have fallen in the name of freedom, only to rise again, and again, till their last breath slips slowly from life. Why is it so hard to find a hero without want? The song of freedom is strong in everyone. How to be a hero is in us all. Carry the old persons heavy sack, return the purse sitting on the park bench, hold the door for someone. Who knows what a change you can make. To that person you are a hero. A child and her mother came out of a store the other day, the child carrying a helium balloon. The wind tore the balloon loose from the child, and the child was crying. The woman must have thought I was crazy, I told her to wait a minute and I would go get her another one. I was amazed she waited, but she did. As I approached the van the little girl stopped crying and started to smile. I tied the balloon around her wrist then said their you go . The woman wanted to pay me for the balloon, and I said her smile is payment enough. With that left. I felt on top of the world doing that simple thing for that child. After all, being a hero to someone is supposed to feel good. All we need to do is remember. Hero's live forever in our minds. All we need do is to remember to try to help the other person. After all, isn't that what our hero's did? Changing the world one person at a time. We just forgot how. Maybe some day, we will remember. Before it is to late for us all.

The Dragon and the OX

She is the dragon and I but a OX. We were meant to be as one. We are as one and ever shall be. Even unto the ages it shall be. Why, you ask ? 

She is the wisdom that tempers my judgment. When I am angered, she is the compassion that soothes my rage.

 If I am unhappy, she is the feather that tickles my neck.

 When I need to talk, she is my friend to hear my words.

 If I lose my way in the darkness, she is the light showing me out of despair, showing me the way up to the light. 

The touch of her hand can melt my soul to its core.Yet, with one look, she can inflame my passions to the point of infinity, then back to earth with just one word. 

I feel I am her protector, but her fierce wings are my shield against the worlds of time and space. 

We were born Eons ago with our souls entwined. Two hearts, one soul, against the sands of time. When we are reborn again, we will find each other, just as the seasons do. Flowing, ebbing, as the stars. Our love will guide us to each other, even if born worlds apart. For she is my Dragon, and I her Ox.

Lake of Fire

                                                                                          
At last I have some time to my self. Working two jobs and trying to make the company of my own grow is stressful enough, without all the hassle I receive from the staff. Oh well at least I can go to the cabin for a rest . This weekend is what I have been waiting for. Its been six months since I was here last. I had a great time on the lake fishing. Solitude, that is a great comfort to me since I lost.... Well enough of that. 

As I pull in the drive I notice the cabin door is ajar. Dam, I hope someone hasn't trashed the place. I went to great pains to build that library and fireplace. Going in I smell something cooking. Outraged that someone would just take over the place, I burst in the door looking for a fight. What I found was ..... Not what I expected.

 Sitting in front of the fireplace in my library was a young woman dressed in nothing but a towel around her, and her head. I stopped in my tracks , gaping at the most lovely woman I had ever seen.
with a screech she dove behind the couch leaving a towel behind. Bravely she peered over the couch pointing a finger, and told me GET OUT GET OUT my husband will be back any moment, and kick you out. It was funny to hear her say that, after all, I owned the cabin, and all fifty acres to the lake. Now hold on girl I own this cabin, and as far as I can see your trespassers, and I should throw you out. She pulled back her hand and said you wouldn't dare, would you? Well..... That depends, are you a good cook? What's that got to do with it ? Nothing , just wanted to know if you could cook. Something sure smells good , and I hoped you had cooked enough for two or should I say three . When your husband gets back we will talk. She had a look of despair in her eyes, I don't have a husband. I only said that to scare you into leaving.

 Well then, it will be just us for dinner .She gave me a frightened look. Don't worry I wont bite. Oh by the way, I think you may need this holding up the towel she dropped. Sparks came from her eyes as I laughed tossing it to her. Get dressed then we can eat and you can explain to me why you are in my cabin. As I turned my back to go into the other room, the mirror in the hall shown her standing and wrapping her self. She was about five foot tall flawless light skin with perfect breasts, and long coal black straight hair. Just the thing to ruin my weekend solitude I mused.

We sat across the table eating in silence. Then she said, I suppose you will be wanting me to leave when we are done. Well yes, however, you can not leave tonight. Their are wolves in the woods at night, so you can leave in the morning. You take the bed ill have the couch, all your clothes are in the bedroom no, sense in moving things twice. Till then you can tell me how you came to be here and for how long.

She became a bit more at ease, and poured out her story to me. As she talked, I only half listened. As I studied her more closely, I could see she was of Asian descent with long flowing shining black hair. Her eyes were dark as night, as though you were looking into a deep shimmering pool of water. Her lips thin, but still very full. Her breasts, not overly large but very firm. I could see her nipples very erect from the cool night air. When suddenly, she stopped talking. She had noticed my gaze fixed on her nipples. Crossing her arms she asked in a bitter tone, should I continue? Yes... Yes by all means I am sorry you are just so lovely I forgot myself it has been to many years since I have sat and eaten, with a beautiful woman who is not trying to get my money or favor. You conceded bastard! Wait a minute, I'M sorry, it seems that no one listens to me any more, and here I have done that to you. Please continue, I never meant to make you feel uneasy.

As she spoke my mind drifted to another time. Japan 1968 did my tour of Nam. Cooling off they called it, getting ready to go stateside. Asian women are so lovely in Japan, you can forget all your cares when one puts her mind on only you.
As she spoke you could tell the sadness in her voice. She seemed not to have anyone or any place to go. Great, I thought my weekend was shot to hell. No private time to myself I mused. One thing for sure, she was a great cook. As I was eating, I noticed she had several bruises on her arms and shoulders. When I asked her about them her response was tears. She said, her boyfriend had caught her, and beat her for leaving Then, he tied her up and drove her into the deep woods,and then dumped her out still tied up. She finally got loose after about five hours, and found my cabin after wondering the woods for two days. Have you ever felt like just the biggest ass in the world? Man, did I ever. She just kept crying. As I went around the counter I took her in my arms, and just let her cry. 

Dam me for being so soft hearted, what will I do now ? I cant very well just kick her out , but I need my time to myself to think. Oh, what the hell, I will let her stay. My weekend was shot anyway.
As I held her in my arms, the heat of her body next to mine was very intoxicating. A man could get lost in her intoxicating warmth. She put her arms around me and thanked me for letting her stay the night. Don't worry I said just get a good nights sleep and we will talk in the morning if you want, and by the way, I have my question answered. What question is that she asked? I cupped her chin and said, well for one thing your a great cook . She smiled and hugged me even harder.

With supper over she headed for the bedroom, and I heard the shower start. With all the tears from her crying, I guess she needed to cool off. I know I did! The heat of her next to me had my blood pumping so hard I almost lost control. Well,enough of that. As I went into the living room, I could see she had put away books I had left open around the room. As I sat down in my large wing back chair to relax and read, I thought maybe a fire will help take the chill off, and help me to relax. It gets chilled at night even in the late summer. I went outside and got some red oak. 

God I just love the woods. The smell of new growth is so crisp yet soft and gentle. Kind of like that of..... How do you describe beauty, elegance, purity? When I got back in, she was sitting curled up in my chair where I first saw her. She was sipping on a cup of coco. As I came in to the room she turned, and said, I made enough for two, would you like some? I raised a eyebrow at her. She said, its the least I can do. Yes thank you. 

As she went to the kitchen, I knelt down to place, and light the fire. A little tinder goes a long way on this oak as dry as I keep it. Her next question floored me. Why are you so different? Excuse me? Well, she said, I broke into your home, and your still nice to me, and we don't even know each others names. I laughed, pardon my lack of pleasantly my dear lady. My name is Frederick in the book of names it means peaceful king. And you my lady are,? She looked at me and shook her head laughing. That, is quite possibly the best introduction I have ever heard. My name is kaiko . But everyone calls me kai . Well, what do you like to be called? A little silkworm or silk? You know Japanese? Very little but enough to order dinner. She hung her head saying you may call me what you wish. 

Well lets see what would fit you. How about, trouble? See gave me a hard look as I laughed. No, I know a name that suits you very well how about this kirei batahhae. She looked at me and asked with large deep dark eyes why? Well for one thing you are very beautiful, and when you hugged me in the kitchen you were as soft as butter. She looked at me with a hint of rebellion in her eyes. Ah... Ah... let me finish. Also, when I first came in the door surprising you, you moved like you were flying to get behind the sofa. So yes, I think beautiful butterfly suits you very well. Well thank you, that is the most lovely thing anyone has said to me in my life. Or, as I said, I could call you trouble. She laughed and said as you please Frederick. Please, call me Fred, batah. OK ..Fred I would love to be called butterfly. With that I picked up my coco, and sat in my wing back chair.

We talked for what seemed like hours, as the evening cooled down. She was amazing to listen to. Very smart and beautiful, a combination I had tried to avoid. But somehow she was different. Not prying or questing for anything , just honesty. Man, that's a trait I haven't found in a long time in anyone. As she finely said good night, I found myself wanting to know more about her. Sweet dreams, she said as she left the room.

I leaned back in my chair to read but could only think of her. How could she have such a effect on me? As I stared at the fire burning low, I envisioned her as I first saw her towelless flying for cover. As I mused over that thought, I dozed of with pleasant dreams indeed.

As I awoke, I thought I smelled breakfast cooking. I looked down on my lap, and found I was covered with a blanket, my shoes off, and the fire still burning. This woman, whomever she is, is a woman of strength, as well as beauty. To bad I have to send her away this morning. Well I did promise myself not to get involved again. I cant take the chance of losing again. It is too much.
As I went to get up, she came into the room. Good, your awake. Are you hungry? Yes, very much so. Well, I found some pancake mix, veggies, and canned bacon in the cupboard. So come on, let's eat. You sit here while I serve. As she buzzed around, I watched how graceful, and smooth she moved. I found myself wondering just why, I was sending her away. She was articulate, lovely, smart, great cook, and very loving. Even though I was a bit rude to her at first, and going to send her away this morning, she was still kind to me. How in my right mind could I send her away?

As we sat together eating, we talked more of each other and our lives. Pleasant, very pleasant I thought to myself. As we finished, she got up and said, I will do the plates up then you can take me back to the nearest town. Do you have a place to stay? No, she said. But I... Stop for a second, I said. Look, you don't have a place to go and.... Well, truth be told I like your company. And I... Well I would like you to stay. But only if you want to. I would like that very much, she replied.

We spent the day fishing and boating on the lake. Being with her, made me feel as though my life was complete again. In the afternoon, we went back to the cabin. As we walked, she said, I have had a wonderful day, thank you Frederick. Please, call me Fred. OK, then call me silk, for lack of a better name. Silk will be fine. 

When we reached the cabin, she said I will cook us supper. OK, ill get cleaned up. We sat, and talked as the sun set over the lake. She was looking out the window, and said, the lake looks like it's on fire from the sunset. That is why it's called fire lake, I said. Fred? Yes? Will you... Never mind I just. What is it, silk. As I walked to her, and could see a tear forming in her eye. I put my hand on her shoulder, and asked what's wrong? She put her arms around me as she started to cry. I lifted up her chin. As I looked into her eyes, I said don't cry silk. Then, I kissed her. A long warm passionate kiss. She responded,as though she was starved for love. As she melted into my arms, her body began to heat up like fire. I was trying to keep control of myself, but I could not help but get lost in her arms. She slowly pulled away took my hand and led me to the bedroom. She sat me on the bed then stood in front of me and slowly undressed. Then she undressed me saying I want to make love to you. My body was responding to her as a fire fanned by the winds of the desert . Her hair was so soft, her breasts like soft velvet pillows. Her skin was smooth as new silk. When I we joined she shuddered as though the earth was about to explode. Tightening herself around me, we became as one. As though each new the others need, matching movements we made passionate love for several hours. Till when at last, we were both to exhausted to continue, we finally had to stop for a while.
After resting, we showered together exploring each others body's again till the water started to turn cool. As she became cool her breasts became firmer, and erect. She was getting us both aroused again. So much for my weekend. I think I will take a few more days off. Well... maybe the whole week.

Other Worlds

I have been sitting in my wing back easy chair reading. I am engrossed with the book and pay no mind as to my present state, as I am off to other worlds in my mind.
I suddenly am brought back to the present with a soft breeze on the nape of my neck, and then a moist warm set of lips working their way to the back of my ear. I shudder, trying to fight the ripples of desire starting to rush through my mind. My body starts to respond, as I start to sweat and a erection starts to form.
A soft veil of hair falls over my eyes. I know now who has brought me back. Back from other worlds, to tempt me with rushing desires. What will she be tonight? A temptress that is for sure! To love or fondle? Or perhaps she has chosen to be.......
A hand slides over my shoulder working its way to my chest, and then the other. Her soft long red hair hangs down in front of my face. As I cup her hair in my hand, I smell her soft fragrant aroma. She kisses the top of my head and asks, will that be all master requires for the evening?
Have you performed every required task, I ask. Yes, she responds in a soft sultry voice. Then you may retire for the evening, I answered.
Do you not need else for me to do? I try to steady me nerves as she has brought my desire of her to the point of uncontrollable need. Mayhaps , their still may be something you wish to do......
Before I can finish, she slides in front of me on her knees, with a sparkle in her green eyes that can only be compared to that of the moon on the shimmering lake waters. She is dressed in her maid attire. All proper and trim, except for her hat she has removed. I look into her eyes and tell her she is out of uniform. Hanging her head she says, I am sorry master, I will try to do better.
You are a very good servant Trish, but you must stay in proper uniform. Is master mad at me? I reach down with my hand and lift up her chin. Trish, you know I am very strict on how my servants dress, do you not? Yes master. It is then I notice she has never put on her bra. Her hard nipples standing firm against her uniform. Stand, I command. Turn around and raise your skirt girl! She does as I command, reviling her firm glowing bottom. Turn! I say. This shall be my downfall,for I am not prepared for what happens next.
As I raise my hand to scold her, she slowly raises her skirt revealing her lush bright red bush. Reaching for my hand she cups her warm moist womanhood with my Hand then softly squeezes, letting out a small moan. At last it is to much for me to bear. I pull her to me, we kiss deeply as though our thirst will never be quenched.
Rising from my chair, I pick her up in my arms .Then as we retire to the sofa, we lose our senses in each others arms.
Another world? Yes, I am in another world. One of passion,wonder, hope, and discovery. She will always be my servant, as society rules nothing else can ever be But for now, alone together, we will make a world of our own if only for a short time.