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Tools of the TradeWhat lies beyond the face of all hopes and dreams? In the realm of memories, what is it that remains? I often used to ask myself that many times a day. In pursuit of my dreams, I often found myself staring down a road in which ghosts of the past haunted me endlessly, pursuing my every option to destruction.I guess you could say that I was missing what I needed to push my way past the days of long ago and move onto the future. And in some way, I do believe I found them. Just as a stone sculpter uses a chisel and hammer to fine tune his sculptures, and an artist uses paints and a brush to create beautiful masterpieces...I too, needed my tools of the trade to help me with my memories.And so, I went in search of them...Only to find that I already had everything I needed.I finally had the right equipment to face my past. And I'm running towards it.I'm staring at it from the other end of a pole arm, a sword and shield by my side...because some memories need to be defeated...I'm running
Lament of Long AgoThe night had long since fallen, as had the first drops of the coming rain. Even in the torrential downpour the clouds had unleashed, a bit of dim light had been cast by a street lamp a ways down the hillside. It cast a lengthy shadow upon the top of the hill where a lonely figure stood. His coat drenched and clinging to the bony frame beneath, ever changing eyes hidden from the rain behind a pair of black goggles, the lonely soul stood atop of a rocky outcrop ontop of the hillside.As the rain continued to pound the small town, he sat down on the wet rocks, not caring to notice as the dampness seeped into him. It was cold, but he barely felt it anymore...even as the winds kicked up around him, rushing through the trees.For a moment, in the dark of the night and rain...a hole opened up in the clouds just large enough to allow a bit of moonlight through. The single beam of light shone down upon the trees, filtering through the leaves to the person atop the rocks. As he sat bathed in th