I stared at the journal for quite some time,
It just sat staring back from my bookshelf.
It had been about a year since I last opened it.
It tore me down then,
Would probably tear me down again,
But the names bound within,
Between the realms of ink & paper,
Needed to be spoken,
It was a society,
The legends & lore were wrapped in those pages,
The names of our fallen fathers,
With only myself to remember them.
Those pages make me feel like a grandfather,
Ready to divulge information only passed,
With soft spoken tongues,
And dark shadow whispers.
I have no children to teach,
I have no people to speak to,
I?m alone.
But those pages are too big,
That legend to heavy,
For one man.
I can feel its weight tearing me down,
All the way from across the room.
<font color="#00FF00" size="1">[ October 06, 2006 11:41 AM: Message edited by: Hannibal ]</font>
