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			            Montage

			     By Jared P. DuBois

		    (c) Copywrites 1986,87,88,89,90,94




			     Montage is from..

			    The Vestatile Verse

			         repetition

			         Triumvirum

			         Quadranine

			          pentacle



		      Montage is..

	     neither acceptance nor denial
 
		-+-The Immortals, Mortal Rectitude
		   (Affinity)*, (Centricity), (Life (again.))
		-+-Time Again, In Ignorance

	     maelstroms leading up

		   (Rites of Passage), (Landmarks Left By)
		   (Chasten Not I), (A Moment's Peace)
		 -+-Distance Closes In, In My Prime
		   (Less than Whole),  (What was then)

	     sounds of our love's song

		-+-As it is
		-+-Absence Presence and Promise Fulfilled
		   (Once Bitten), (Four- Leafed Clovers)
		-+- Remembrance, (A Single Rose)
		   (I found my soul), (We Once Touched, Goodbyes)
		   (To Be You, Give me love)

	     of life and truth and fate and lies

		   (The Long Journey)
		-+-The Wayfarer, The Executioner
		-+-The Cauldron of Fontaine, Vestabur
		   (Once a King)

	     to make a sound or stir

		-+-Contemplating Freedom, Fears of finding out
		-+-The Haunting, (I cannot see me), (My mind is Free)
		-+-Once is me, (Starry- Eyed and Boisterous)

	     to question why

		-+-Our Legacy of Lethargy, To Wit
		-+-(Outgrown Innocence), (Death of a Child)
		-+-Automatons, (The Eternal Yoke)
		-+-Sword of the Slight, (Conscientious Objectors)

	     the indomitable straits of time

		-+-Motions Passing, Eclipsed, (Momentous Moments)
		-+-Moments of Repatriation, (In Unison), (Prismic)
		-+-Waiting, Tomorrow

	     on into the sunset

		-+-The Dark Horse, Excelsior
		-+-Crystal Castles, Lexicon

	* = not incuded, -+- = included







		      neither acceptance nor denial


		      The Immortals

	    Beat fast oh heart of endless motion
	      that carries us through the shrouded stillness
	     of the omnipresent cold eternal night
	       which holds countless souls captive,
	      entombed within its endless fiefdom
	        smothered in angst and robbed of sight

	    Move quickly you who dare to think
	      that you have any relevance to it all
	     or it to you or you to what is right
	       lest you may learn that nothing matters
	      to life which you may cherish or despise
	        and to death which merely continues this plight

	    No future is real and the past slips away,
	      not wanting to be remembered or relived,
	     not holding onto you nor letting you hold it
	       as you are perpetually thrown into nothingness
	      and then let to grasp at something
	        yet that something never enables you to quit

	    Constant scurrying with nowhere to go
	      is the empty fate which befalls us all
	     and holds us in the wake of endless questing
	       after truths that lose their importance
	      as easily and as often as we lose our lives
	        without diminishing our spirit's vesting


		            Mortal Rectitude

		Pushing ever towards the end
		  we reach out for the newest and latest
		 and we receive them yet again
		   never doubting
		  the relevancy or immediatcy
		    of evolution

		Seeing ourselves decay
		  and knowing our governments and systems,
		 our attempts to keep change at bay,
		   condemn us
		  to see that our lives and ritual actions
		    are institutions

		Doomed to eventual obscurity
		  we struggle to achieve eternal importance
		 lest we become forgotten history
		   always believing
		  that to be remembered is to live,
		    an absolution

		Pegged into the fold,
		  locked into a slice of eternal time
		 chained to life fading and old
		   ever acknowledging
		  neither acceptance nor denial
		    is resolution


		      Time again

	    Never is ever ever enough
	      for life itself is in the extreme
	     surpassing itself time and time again
	       for that it is
	      and for that must it always be
	        as this or that comes to rule
	       each moment becoming that time
	         while chaos itself reigns supreme
	        for all that may no matter what,  no matter when
	          must bow to this

	    Time becomes time again
	      defining itself anew each resurgent light
	     as all of creation falls down to this
	       until it was
	      and then never again would it,  could it be
	        paved over by insatiable lust for life
	       driving those others over that which drove it
	         seeking to become that moment,  become that life
	        which by turns gives life and feeds off of it
	          living by giving what does


		     In Ignorance

	 In ignorance I look to the sky
	   sensing some higher order,  some higher mind
	  as yet unknownst to me so I pass it by
	    enjoying peace and pleasure and like in kind
	   for place untold cannot bind

	 In ignorance I live each day without fear
	   oblivious to death omnipresently everywhere
	  in each potently deadly soul be they far or be they near
	    for life and death and consequence we each share
	   needing to be needing,  being to dare

	 So life leave to mystery and to death leave the facts
	   so cold and unchanging written in black upon black
	  for living is standing with the truth to our backs
	    facing the yet-to-be true, the ever changing track
	   surmounting the known with each little act

	 Thinking meaning existed then,  or when,  or ever
	   we see ourselves as lost and forever wandering blind
	  yet to see truth as evolving becoming full truly never
	    is to accept ignorance as a fact,  a mean state of mind
	   knowing all knowing soon succumbs to time








			  maelstroms leading up


		   Distance Closes In

	Distance closes in
	  and horizons once seemingly endless
	 become known, and being known, uninteresting
	   as the playpen to the room,
	  the room to the yard, the yard to the street, ad infinitum

	The planet, being known
	  thus becomes to small to frame us
	 so we search out new limits to our view
	   and overlook the unknowns at home
	  in our cities, our streets, in our peoples, and in ourselves

	Infinity itself collapses
	  under the weight of impressive stares
	 as if to say what else can I do, what more can I give
	   and we ourselves, not knowing, merely shrug
	  and walk away saying we only thought there'd be more


		           In My Prime

		I see myself in my minds eye
		  in my youth stout and strong
		    and in my prime
		 too untamed and too untried
		  not to think that all the world
		   could be bent towards my will
		    by my pride

		Wary now,  I seldom wander
		  to find fulfillment of futile goals
		    lying ever yonder
		 yet in my heart and in my dreams
		  I am still a fool eagerly awaiting
		   opportunity to cast away my wisdom
		    if sorrow it means

		Is ignorance bliss,  I wonder
		  debating whether incremental time
		    is some cosmic blunder
		 for when age brings us aquiessence
		  for lessening roles in lesser amibitions
		   we still believe we are more and have more
		    as we lose faith in our essence









			sounds of our love's song


			 As it is

		  As light as a feather
		    that flutters to and fro
		      fancifully upon the slightest breeze
		   As strong as the feeling
		     of futility at the suppression
		       of an undeniably growing sneeze

		  As warm as the color
		    of a blazing crimson sun
		      on a pale morning sky
		   As safe as a prison
		     or the painted sanctuaries
		       in which we all shall lie

		  As indefinable as the moment
		    in which we finally come
		      to know and love ourselves
		   As rich as the body
		     and soul of mother earth
		       which gives but never sells

		  As these and so much else,
		    so is my love for you
		      and so shall be forever more
		   As easy as it is to say
		     it is far the more difficult
		       to feel all is real and I am yours


		  Absence, Presence, and Promise Fulfilled

		   Without love
		     I am free to cultivate hate
		    without fear
		      of any unseemly contradiction
		     to drive me
		       to purge either one or the other

		   With love
		     I may love just a few
		    without need
		      to share that love with all
		     or justify
		       loving anyone better or more

		   Within love
		     there is the hope I may live
		    without seeing
		      anyone in my heart clearer
		     than anyone else
		       who is no less worthy of the same


			   Rememberance

		 As I lay down to sleep
		  I pray this memory I shall always keep
		   of you with me now in my time
		  in my world,  in my soul,  and in my mind
		   for though we must continue to change
		  I hope to keep a piece of this treasure
		   of pleasure brought by loving you to me
		  with me always,  even in my darkest hour
		   when my body lies cold,
		  bled dry of feeling and power,
		   for if I have but this memory of you
		  I will still have love
		   and joy and peace and light
		  and a little slice of the best time
		   in my life









		    of life and truth and fate and lies


		      The Wayfarer

	 Torn and tattered were his clothes
	   and his face,  like a well worn overgrown trail,
	  inspired polite respect with a twinge of fear
	    in the people whom he passed as his soul set sail
	   to find some wondrous place to finally rest
	     and upon that day he felt it drawing ever near

	 It was the fourteenth day of December
	   when his feet first carried him into the town
	  where he would meet the strangest of fates
	    and revel in the wake of the unseen forces that abound
	   between the reality of day and the darkness of night
	     which draw one unknowingly into the eeriest of states

	 In an little old inn on the edge of town
	   the wayfarer stopped for warmth and a drink
	  but this was no ordinary inn as he soon found out
	    for the innkeeper had devious eyes which would wink
	   whenever the wayfarer thought something was strange
	     and the walls themselves seemed to scream or shout

	 Intrigued by the strangeness of the place
	   the daring traveler decided to stay the night
	  but after making a quick check of his room
	    his eyes caught flash of a hideous sight
	   of a wolf standing bloodied over a mutilated body
	     and when the brief vision ended, he felt impending doom

	 Hurriedly,  he splashed his face wet 
	   in a water basin at the end of the hall,
	  his heart racing at the marvel he had seen
	    driving him to take some action or to call
	   for help from some sorcerer,  demon,  or god
	     to help him vanquish this terrible dream

	 Once again in the inn's tavern
	   he instead chose food to regain his composition
	  for he felt that he would need all his senses
	    to do battle with the demonic apparition
	   that lay waiting for him in his room
	     yet also in some other world behind unseen fences

	 He felt its presence even then
	   as he ate in an attempt to gain strength,
	  he felt it chiding to him to run while he could
	    but he did not listen to it at any length,
	   just long enough to know it was still there
	     and that if it could destroy him it surely would

	 The man at the bar let out a laugh
	   that sounded as deranged as its meaning was obscure
	  but before he left the room in a frenzied delight
	    he had pointed to the wayfarer sitting demure
	   and said nothing though the meaning became clear
	     in that he was a fool for not feeling proper fright

	 Alone in the room of the wolf
	   he sat expectantly upon a wooden chair
	  and with his gun at his side and knife in hand
	    he waited for something or someone to be there
	   but though the feeling grew ever more intense
	     nothing appeared that he could see or understand

	 Soon he began to grow tired
	   yet the more that he gave into this tide
	  the more invigorated he felt himself become
	    until he lay wide awake on the other side
	   where the wolf lay waiting in a field of green
	     and the light of the moon was now the sun

	 He stood up and gave chase to the wolf
	   although he was no longer certain why
	  for this world was certainly not like his own
	    as it had orange plants and a bright pink sky
	   and as he grew nearer to the fleeing wolf
	     he realized it was unlike any he had known

	 The ominous hatred and venomance
	   which he had sensed back at the inn
	  no longer was present in this strange new place
	    though still he felt driven to purge this sin,
	   this horrible abomination incarnate in the wolf
	     seeming so near that he could sense its foul taste

	 Then the wolf grew tired at last
	   and turned to face the wayfarer's approach
	  yet it did not show any sign of fear
	    nor did it turn hostile when he drew close,
	   instead it quietly awaited its impending fate
	     as the hunter flung himself at it like a spear

	 The wayfarer's confusion grew still
	   when the wolf seemed to vanish in the air
	  but the feelings still had hold of him
	    and as he fled across the plains in despair
	   he noticed that his body had disappeared
	     while he ran within the wolf's own skin

	 Over the next hill he came across a man
	   whom he vaguely noticed was himself
	  and as the man began to shudder back
	    the man-wolf felt the fear rise in itself
	   growing stronger until both were one
	     at the moment its teeth gnashed open his neck

	 Screaming,  the man was again in the room
	   far too shaken to think of anything's meaning
	  as he packed his things and hurried away
	    into the darkness of that fateful evening
	   when worlds collided for one man never known
	     except for the footprints in the snow never shown


		         The Executioner

		The moment of truth appeared
		  within the blink of an eye
		 as I solemnly raised my gun
		   before my quavering victim

		The Executioner of Justice
		  is the name I chose long ago
		 and that far off day gone by
		   is suddenly thrust before my eyes

		Was it my passion for life
		  or some perverse taste for death
		 that made me love the work
		   which came to dominate my life

		This kill will not come easy
		  and this face before me
		 shall not be quietly put to rest
		   in my tortured silent nights

		This time I cannot believe
		  that this tragedy is just
		 and the innocent eyes before me
		   reflect the truth of my task

		Countless times before I could have questioned
		  but instead I chose to remain ignorant
		 of the manipulations of the halls of justice
		   that determine who shall live or die

		This time it was too blatant,
		  an example to be made,
		 a statement of brutal blindness
		   to keep the rank and file in line

		Right and wrong are dissolving
		  in my long inactive mind
		 and the fresh wind that blows
		   is filled with condemnation

		My hand begins to violently shake
		  and the gun grows heavy within
		 as if the weight of my deeds
		   are now alive in my instrument of death

		An explosive turmoil erupts within
		  as I am faced with countless questions
		 of life and truth and fate and lies
		   and of my own inevitable demise

		The forces ripping me apart are great
		  but the solution is so near and easy
		 and in an instant later it is over
		   as the echoes of the shot die in the air

		My eyes grow dim and my heart heavy
		  as I watch the body hit the floor
		 and I convince myself I will survive
		   the haunting truth my soul had seen


		        Cauldron of Fontaine

		In medieval days of nightmarish lore
		  when the unspeakable occurred
		 far too often for any to keep score
		   there was a abomination vested
		  upon a town which knows no fame
		    save for being the birthplace
		   of the Cauldron of Fontaine

		Made from the iron of thirty swords
		  that took the souls of scores of men
		 the blackened pot would feed the hoards
		   of those who served the darkness
		  and reveled in the terror vexed upon Man,
		    taking great pleasure from each atrocity
		   their demonic leader would command

		The deeds of this troupe defy telling
		  without disturbing the sensibilities
		 of those who find righteousness compelling
		   so it should suffice for me to say
		  that the results of their debauchery boiled
		    in an evil mixture in that cauldron
		   as the dignity of humanity was forever soiled

		The village once known as Fontaine
		  was peaceful before those days,
		 before the devil called Raven came
		   in a firestorm of reckless abandon
		  asking for followers to seize the day,
		    to profit from the confusion,
		   to take all and make heaven pay

		In desperate times such as these
		  men were all too willing
		 to follow one who did as he pleased
		   fearing neither the wrath of God
		  nor the formidable armies of kings
		    that were heralding forth another age
		   for which chivalry valiantly sings

		Twisted was Raven's maniacal mind
		  bent upon a life everlasting
		 and so unrelenting was he to find
		   the key to achieving this hopeless dream
		  that he dared leave no stone unturned
		    until immortality was his prize
		   and its secrets were at last learned

		Fools always follow where greed leads
		  and in those days of long ago
		 that road was known as alchemy,
		   where science and mysticism joined
		  and produced a mutated child
		    which died attempting to tame
		   a world where blind instinct ran wild

		Raven was convinced that this was the way
		  that he could at last be immortal
		 and forever postpone his judgment day
		   so the dreaded cauldron was conceived
		  to concoct that elixir of eternal life
		    made from the fluids of life and death
		   taken ceremoniously with a lethal knife

		Blood flowed endlessly for years hence
		  as more villagers became convinced
		 that the Angel of Death could now be fenced
		   leaving them free to live lives of lust
		  without fear of any final hereafter
		    until one by one they all met the blade
		   to the tune of Raven's menacing laughter

		Decrepit and fast turning gray,
		  Raven realized his failure far too late
		 as he too lived to see the day
		   when he was chosen as a sacrifice
		  to feed the younger who gained claim
		    upon his legacy of unbridled brutality
		   justly giving him taste of the same

		Though they all now wear death's chains,
		  as a monument to those dark days
		 an undistinguished black pot still remains
		   for on a museum shelf behind a glass case
		  sits the Cauldron of Fontaine
		    as a relic from another world
		   achieving Raven's pitiful aim


		         Vestabur

	 Of all the great legends
	   which ever were
	  no name rings truer
	    than that of the mighty Vestabur
	   who gave all for nothing
	     chasing humanity's forgotten cure

	 In the land of Vikings
	   during the most violent of ancient days
	  this strongest of warriors wept
	    for man's seemingly eternal malaise
	   which pitted man against man
	     and goodness against stronger selfish ways

	 Finding none who were worthy
	   of his inestimable prowess of force
	  he then sailed off alone
	    letting fate decide his course
	   driven by a sense of uneasiness
	     and determined to find its source

	 For fourteen lonely days
	   and fifteen turbulent nights
	  no glimpse of sunlight broke the clouds
	    and no sign of land reached his sights
	   until at last upon that final day
	     he saw mountains of astonishing heights

	 The mountains reached right to the sea
	   barren of any form of living thing,
	  so empty and gray and desolate
	    no comfort did its appearance bring
	   with such an endlessly imposing facade
	     that even the sea birds no longer did sing

	 Hungry and weary from his journey,
	   Vestabur hastened to go ashore
	  but little respite did he receive
	    as his hands became bloodied and sore
	   trying to climb those rugged cliffs
	     which appeared to go on forever more

	 After what seemed an eternity,
	   he reached the top of a peak
	  only to be confronted
	    by a winged creature that could speak
	   which had hovered before him
	     and asked him what he seeked

	 A dragon some would call it 
	   though dragons were not so small
	  for this scaly quite ugly sprite
	    stood no more than three feet tall
	   and because of its tiny wings,
	     one wondered how it flew at all

	 Vestabur thought for a bit
	   and then said, "To end my pain
	  for I am tired,  cold,  and hungry
	    and am quickly becoming lame
	   as I have traveled long and hard
	     only to find nothing gained."

	 After a long pause of suspicion
	   the creature looked wary and replied,
	  "A bed and shelter and food,
	    these things I can easily provide
	   but surely thou travels not for these
	     for everywhere these comforts reside."

	 The warrior let out a thunderous laugh
	   and said, "Thou art a wise sprite
	  for seeing deeper than I might wish
	    but thou art most certainly right
	   in that I seek relief of a deeper pain
	     than one can name or hold in sight."

	 He continued, "If thou wouldst comfort me
	   with the provisions that thou didst say
	  I would be in thy gravest debt
	    and shall be most eager to repay
	   by naming my pain as yet untold
	     if it pleaseth thee for me to say."

	 It was early the following morning
	   when Vestabur awoke invigorated and refreshed
	  that he told the sprite his woeful tale
	    of how the worst in Man destroyed the best
	   and it was then that he heard the prolific words
	     which would set him upon his greatest quest

	 The creature spoke in a low solemn tone,
	   "Thy vision is true and thy heart is pure
	  for there is a plague of greed upon the land
	    by which Man is poisoned and cannot long endure
	   but all hope has not yet been lost
	     for there is a place which covets the cure."

	 "Devils be damned and heavens praised,"
	   Vestabur abruptly and joyfully exclaimed,
	  "A thousand blessings be upon thee
	    if thou wouldst only speak the name
	   of that place which has come to possess
	     such an auspicious claim to fame."

	 "Mubarakk," the winged creature said
	   as it began to fly out of his sight,
	  "Sail in the direction of the setting sun
	    for a hundred days and nights,
	   turn back for no one and nothing
	     and never give into your fright."

	 Slowly Vestabur made his way down
	   the dangerous steep mountain's edge
	  working his way away from the house
	    that the creature had built upon a ledge
	   with his mind dwelling upon the words
	     the strange creature had last said

	 The fury of the seven seas
	   hath no fury like that of a man possessed
	  to achieve that one goal or reward
	    that he knows in his heart to be the best,
	   not for himself but for his whole world
	     and Vestabur was driven by nothing less

	 Through the harshest of storms he sailed
	   unrelentingly plodding on toward some place
	  where he knew he would be gravely taxed
	    in a test which could affect his whole race
	   so he bore the worst the sea could give
	     and he swore he would not act in haste

	 During a rare moment of peace and calm
	   he happened upon a lush tropical isle,
	  a garden of endless sensual delights
	    radiating a joy that could make the devil smile
	   so it was here that he stopped for more supplies
	     and a place where he could rest for awhile

	 Words cannot describe the beauty of that place
	   or of the friendliness people there had showed
	  upon the storied stranger weak and frail
	    half starved and half crazed by his chosen road
	   to rid the world of its evil and its pains
	     that some unseen god or demon ungraciously bestowed

	 But here there was no hate or selfishness
	   and the world he left behind seemed to fade away,
	  just a nightmare that lingered in some twilight time
	    forgotten but not leaving its importance betrayed
	   as it clamored to him in his restless troubled sleep
	     and its resolve in hope there too vice could be allayed

	 And the love that had been denied to him before
	   came to him in that wonderful enchanted place
	  in the guise of beauty Mirimaney Kondessay
	    who embodied the purest of virtue, love, and grace
	   with the glimmer of a thousand stars within her eyes
	     and a radiance as great as the sun within her face

	 Here was contentedness and here was untold joy
	   which he had never dreamed could be before
	  yet deep within he knew he'd never see again
	    for he knew that this place was merely a door
	   to be passed through and left behind forever
	     and that more pains of the past lay in store

	 Though this hurt was far deeper than any others,
	   Vestabur left quietly during one calm night
	  again sailing toward the land of the setting sun
	    cursing himself for being too weak to ignite
	   courage enough to bid farewell his new bride
	     and still be able to continue on with his plight

	 Five weeks hence, his supplies again exhausted
	   he found another island to look for food to eat
	  but no land of paradise was this evil isle
	    as death lay everywhere eager to meet
	   this giant of a man who dared enter the domain
	     of the Banu tribe with painted hands and feet

	 In the shank of the evening the blood bath erupted
	   as Vestabur awoke to them attacking him one by one
	  yet each time he triumphed, another foe lay vanquished,
	    and over a hundred lay dead before the dying was done
	   when ten men rushed him cracking his skull
	     for as the mighty Vestabur fell the battle was won

	 When he awoke he found himself tied
	   upon a yoke of precious metals lined with jewels
	  in the hall of a gigantic luxurious marble palace
	    among sculptures carved by the finest artisan's tools,
	   displayed along beside them atop a high ledge
	     being gawked at by a court filled with noble fools

	 From his perch he could look down and see 
	   the story of the kingdom unfold beneath his eyes
	  as the monarch sat upon a throne of the finest jade
	    doling out the most incredulous of lies
	   eagerly consumed by a nation taught only obedience
	     caring not that they had no will to compromise

	 Thrice daily he would be washed and fed
	   serving no more purpose than that of a living statue
	  declaring to all the power of the emperor
	    which his bound and helpless state showed true
	   yet only his body lay confined and constrained
	     while his mind raced to uncover any opportunity cue

	 For the first time in his victory filled life
	   Vestabur was held prisoner like some animal in a cage
	  removed from the freedoms he had always known
	    and daily he held witness to his mounting rage
	   at the atrocious abuses of power going on below
	     which we affecting him more than he could ever gauge

	 As he saw even mere children condemned to die
	   for deeds done by their parents or other kin
	  he vowed he would rid this world of this tyrant
	    before resuming the task long ago did he begin
	   believing nothing he could do could ever surpass
	     this victory over viciousness which he had to win

	 After the trials which always ended up executions,
	   Emperor Kyrik would stand alone in this hall
	  admiring his statues and opulent ornaments
	    gloating over having the power of death over all
	   and one day he spoke to Vestabur shackled high above,
	     "Thy head from thy neck might as easily fall!"

	 "Thou wouldst suffer far more than me
	   for I knowst a place of untold treasure,"
	  Vestabur answered,  "and beauty far greater
	    than could give such a beast as thee pleasure
	   for the wealth of this place surmounts all 
	     that thou has is this hall or could measure."

	 "And all I must do to have this marvelous wealth
	   is to set thee free I supposeth,"  the emperor said,
	  "yet I be not the fool thou thinkst I am
	    for only moments later I wouldst surely be dead
	   though I thinkst thou speaketh the truth
	     so I shall send out my armies to search instead."

	 Moments later the emperor returned to the hall
	   where Vestabur stood consumed by his flaming hate
	  for the man who now predicted complete success
	   in plundering all wealth as his armies would devastate
	  all peoples weaker be they near or far away
	    and as he said so Vestabur realized it was too late

	 Suddenly he was struck with a vision
	   of the island of boundless beauty and grace
	  being raped of the riches it shone forth,
	    the kindness and the love too strong to erase
	   would doom them to be destroyed one and all
	     as the vipers poisoned that wondrous place

	 As the emperor laughed far below
	   Vestabur saw him directly beneath the ledge
	  and summoning all the strength left in him
	    he tipped the stone stockade using his foot as a wedge
	   tilting it forward inch by inch as his foot crushed
	     until at last the stone and he tumbled over the edge

	 He awoke upon a gallows before a crowd
	   shouting curses at him for killing the emperor,
	  no joy did they have for being set free
	    as they began to stone the mighty Vestabur
	   and the reasons why he craved that death
	     were so tainted by this he could no longer remember

	 "These fools shall never become free,"
	   Vestabur thought as he prepared to die,
	  "for they haveth no meaning or goals in life
	    save for those given by some ruler up high
	   and such as being as me wouldst never be
	     forced or force others to live out such a lie."

	 Bracing himself for the final yank nearing,
	   he felt proud for having the chance to have been
	  and he feared not death nor pain nor loss
	    for he knew that this was not his true end
	   because his quest was still not near resolution
	     meaning he still would be though knowing not when

	 He saw the coming events proceed in stills,
	   like photographs or like cards taken out of deck,
	  when the trapdoor fell and chaos ensued
	    while the rope snapped close around his strong neck
	   seeing lightening strike the crowd around him
	     then seeing the whole scene fall to a distant speck

			     End of Part One

	        Vestabur-  Conclusion (middle parts missing)

	 How Vestabur had come to arrive there
	   I doubt that anyone could truly say
	  and where exactly there might have been
	    could easily go unknown for a million more days
	   so sadly I am left merely able to say
	     that at long last Vestabur had found his way

	 This isle was a perfect circle with a solitary peak
	   which rose forth from the center and ended in a cloud
	  but no joy came from his mighty heart as it raced
	    with a ferocitiy such that he thought it echoed out loud
	   and a solemn melencholy gripped his whole being
	     fearing the cloud above was his eternal shroud

	 Driven by forces too powerful to dare resist
	   he laughed as he pondered his very first fear,
	  that of reaching the end of his long troubled journey,
	    not of failing but of the success now drawing near
	   and that vague notion of a final resolution
	     made him shake violently as its meaning became clear

	 No more venturing would be should he succeed
	   in ridding the world of all ails and ills
	  as his meaning dissolved before the face of the resolve
	    that drove him here and would carry him up that hill
	   which cursed his success and dared him to leave
	     while he still knew who he was,  knowing he could be still

	 But fear could have no hold over him
	   and he let the sensation run its course and go
	  as he slowly made his way toward the town
	    that his visions of forebearance quickly let him know
	   would await him at the foot of that mount
	     and would surprise him with an unexpected foe

	 Pleasant were the people of this remote town
	   eager to meet and greet this great stranger,
	  so accomodating and polite,  he was so entralled
	    and taken aback by this kindness he saw no danger
	   in dalying for a time to repay their generous hospitality
	     when asked to stay awhile and tend to their manger

	 Strange animals he found in that pristine barn
	   where he came to work to tend their stout stock,
	  healthy and boisterous and so uncannily attuned
	    to service that he had but to think to command a flock
	   of sheep which went daily to a meadow undistinguished
	     but for an errily glowing pile of mountain rocks

	 There at dusk after a hard day's work
	   atop the rocks he felt free as never before
	  in command of his self and his destiny
	    so much so that the future he dreaded lay in store
	   now seemed ameniable and even freindly to him
	     smiling down on him because he dreaded it no more

	 Day after day went past while he worked
	   without notice of the time or the passing seasons
	  that soon changed to years,  then many years
	    but this seemed not to his goal to be of any treason
	   for this was but a temporary stop on his journey
	     and all must always be because of due reason

	 Four and fourty years passed before he noticed
	   how those rocks that he sat upon for so long
	  were to be found in every house and every meeting place,
	    and how they glowed when the townsfolk would throng
	   for some festive event which celebrated each new day
	     as a new era never seeing how much that view was wrong

	 Time made no mark upon this forgotten place
	   as generation after generation came and passed
	  without making any innovation or any new creations
	    to distinguish one era from the next or truths from the mask
	   tradition builds to preserve all views from before
	     and strives to keep any questions from being asked

	 This is in all lands but nowhere else was it so clear
	   as here where there was no small task ever new
	  nor any thought different than those of the day before
	    for even as children learned and constantly grew
	   there was no dividing lines nor any individual patterns
	     setting them apart from each other in what they did or knew

	 Individuals had no meaning to be found here
	   as all worked to serve all others without thought
	  for themselves or for the betterment of others
	    who shared not their secluded seemily ideal spot
	   yet they did not know of the horrors that lay
	     beyond their vision or of the wrongs elsewhere wrought

	 Yet Vestabur found his gift of inner visions
	   not to be strange nor did he find anyone astounded
	  by his presence nor did they ask of where he came
	    and when he spoke of the past,  they were not dumbfounded
	   but would knowingly bow their head in aquiessence
	     whenupon the sorrows of the outside world were sounded

	 Longing to know just how much they knew
	   Vestabur questioned his friend Baynu without respite
	  until at last he admitted they all knew the truth
	    of the world from which he had long left in flight
	   and he too said the cure to all man's troubles
	     lay at the top of the mountain forever in their sight

	 Furious,  Vestabur lashed out in utter condemnation
	   at the whole town knowingly just standing by
	  doing nothing while evil lay everywhere hurting all
	    while they did nothing to aid in its possible demise,
	   instead languishing in the luxury of goodwill
	     without the fortitude to make all of mankind so wise

	 "But what of thou,"  Baynu said in a forgiving way
	   "We cometh heer by our forefathers searching like thee
	  and it was here that the stones lastly didst them comfort
	    letting them know from their demons they be free
	   not having to purge themselves of others shortcomings and sins
	     and giving them peace the world beyond wouldst not let be."

	 Again rekindling the fire that led him here,
	   he fled the town in a fit of unseemly haste
	  violently clawing his way up that mountainside
	    not allowing himself chance to rethink out of fear he'd waste
	   this one last chance to gain what he had come for,
	     to rid life of its bile and bitterness of taste

	 He climbed until he could climb no more
	   frozen by the winds chiding "Death is at hand,"
	  and there he most surely would have died
	    had it not been for the kindness of a man
	   who had made his camp near the top long ago
	     in the mists of a cloud high above the land

	 Small he was though he did not look frail
	   and his temperment was decidedly meek
	  yet Vestabur felt humbled and quite afraid
	    of this man who many might think to be weak
	   for the fire in his eyes and the weight of his words
	     left the giant too afraid to dare speak

	 Though this man did his best to reassure him,
	   Vestabur could not come to feel at ease here
	  for always was he the most powerful one
	    yet this tiny man somehow made him to fear
	   even though he knew this man meant him no harm
	     making him ever more uncomfortable when he came near

	 After a time he found the courage to speak
	   his irrational fear to this gentle little man
	  and he found himself being able to clearly express
	    notions that he did not even fully understand
	   while saying to this compassionate patron of help
	     how he feared himself no longer in command

	 The look on this stranger's face released him
	   from the fear that he felt within his heart
	  for Vestabur understood that this man knew
	    his fears and his need to feel apart,
	   to be bigger and better than all the rest
	     and how he had need for them all in his heart

	 "That thou wishst to serve thy people
	   is honourable is didst bring thou to me
	  here on thy mountain today,"  the man said,
	    "as my wish to serve my people faithfully
	   hast brought me here to await thee
	     and to help thou learn what it is thou seeks."

	 Vestabur relayed his entire life's history
	   to this stranger upon a cliff high in the air
	  telling him of his joys and his loves lost
	    and how the whole world seemed in deep despair
	   hoping that when he ended his tales of his past
	     he might be told if his future lay there

	 Instead the man said nothing at all
	   of what Vestabur ought next to wish to do
	  as he motioned toward the top of the peak
	    saying, "The end is there to go if thou needst to
	   but what thou may find is within thee now
	     and will still be there when thy journey is through."

	 With great trepidations,  Vestabur went outside
	   to gaze at the peak barely visible in the pall
	  seeming so near that he could be there now
	    without needing to have to go there at all
	   and without realizing it he was doing so,
	     climbing as if answering some inner call

	 Then it happened as the universe ended
	   without Vestabur or the snowy mountaintop
	  because it all had come to an end long,  long ago
	    before the beginning with no story now to stop
	   for he realized what he wanted could never be
	     as his whole life fell like rain or a single teardrop

	 Wanting for everyone to live in joy,
	   knowing what it truly is like to live free
	  was to him then and is to us in our time now
	    forever to be more of a dream than reality
	   as it can never be that for any who are free
	     not to be able and therefore not to do,  us misery










			 to make a sound or stir


		  Contemplating Freedom

	Wondering where wistfulness went
	  my mind briefly yet sagaciously moves
	 to a time when I thought not of myself
	   before doing and maybe,  before being
	  letting not preconception deny experience

	Why is it now inconceivable to me
	  to stand naked on the roof beneath the stars,
	 to run gaily through the feilds rolling with life
	   and not think myself an ass for loving life
	  so much as to engage in harmless foolish fun

	Where what becomes what for and why not why
	  is where who I have come to be has since lost me
	 in the trees whose protective leaves let no one see
	   the boy inside the man,  the girl behind the woman,
	  loving what little sponataity we're still graciously allowed

	The constraints are mine to have or have not
	  and respect the invisible instigation to keep hold,
	 to keep in check that urge to burst out laughing
	   whenever we feel we've stepped into the absurd
	  yet absurdity lies at the heart of all around us
	    only now sorrow has replaced the joy


		        Fears of finding out

	    Fear drives one away from the mirror,
	      fear of looking too deeply at bare facts
	     fate has dealt under pain of death,
	       fear of seeing what lies beneath us
	      is only fear of seeing nothing at all

	    Catch a glimpse of yourself
	      as you hurry off to nothing important
	     and you struggle to gather worthless items
	       valued only by those who feel incomplete
	      insatiably grabbing all anyone else wants

	    Fears of not having what others have,
	      fear of not gaining what is prized most,
	     this is what ascribes the dictates of beings
	       who hoard everything to feel they have something
	      other than the emptiness which devours their souls

	    Fighting the listlessness contriteness makes
	      we strike back by attacking those we know
	     who share the same circumstances we endure cowardly
	       yet they have the gall to appear contented
	      so we destroy them to destroy ourselves


		              The Haunting

		 As I gaze at the reflections
		   dancing across the surface
		  of one of nature's many shallow pools,
		    I feel as though I am looking
		   at the ghosts from another time

		 At the touch of my hand they scatter
		   only to once again reappear
		  as the waves slowly begin to quell
		    and they reveal to me their stories
		   for they know I need to hear them

		 But these faces that do haunt me
		   are not of strangers of long ago
		  nor are their tales unfamiliar
		    for they are the different ages of me
		   and their dreams that did not survive

		 They are in pools of rain and window panes
		   and they will follow wherever I go
		  until the day when I take them back
		    if ever I decide to again be whole
		   and no longer bar them from my soul


			      Once is Me

			   Once is me
			     yet I am
			    every time
			      close at hand

			   Over and under,
			     above is below
			    Neither I am,
			      neither I know

			   Yet and then,
			     both are now
			    Never was I,
			      only how

			   Once is me,
			     more is less
			    falling away
			      from the crest










			      to question why


		     Our Legacy of Lethargy

	    We live beyond our means
	      and ponder this facts significance
	     as we anesthetize ourselves upon
	       computer simulated dreams,
	      living a life of decadence
	        defiantly brandishing our death song

	    We are the highest form of civilization
	      outnumbered by the rest of a dying humanity
	     that languish in shanty towns feeding off trash
	       as we grow fat in a cultural stagnation
	      that cannot confront this abominable insanity
	        dealt to us by those in a long irrelevant past

	    Our toils are but few
	      yet our needs and lusts are many
	     as we feed off the carcass of morality
	       stripping bare whatever is in view,
	      killing those without even a penny
	        and reveling in our own banality

	    With a cannibalistic fervent
	      we exploit the desperation of the masses
	     fighting for resources long since dried
	       by generations whose resources recklessly spent
	      always gave priority to the upper classes
	        which gained ground while the rest slowly died

	    They were the ones who begot us
	      as we inherited their wealth and brutality
	     along with a wasted and worthless planet
	       that shall soon be ground into dust
	      so we earnestly accelerate this harsh reality
	        and rape the few resources left without regret


			 To Wit

	    Yea,  how the tables become turned
	      by the clever ones deftly defying criticism
	     for the abuses or misuses of their powers
	       by exalting the common man who succeeded
	      in helping others near or during their rein
	        thus 'proving' that goodness always flourishes
	       and those who cannot see it are blind

	    Shies,  the contemptuous praises be
	      as the praiseworthy are owed their acclamation
	     to the very perpatrators whose life long wrongs
	       they sought with their very lives to undue,
	      fated to have the enemies of their passions
	        eulogize to all their struggles and erst
	       putting it in a perspective void of truth

	    Better they be not to be named or known
	      than to have their virtues so valiently to be sung
	     when hence the very meanings they bestow
	       become tangled in minds by subversive retellings
	      and having their chaste deeds done for good and all
	        used to make good men doubt their own good will
	       removing aspersions aimed at more obvious targets



		       Automatons

	Man or machine,  that is the question
	  which remains to be seen
	 Shielded by uniforms,  we lash out beating and killing
	   those who are our own brethren
	  as we convince ourselves we have given up all rights
	    to question why

	We poison and maim,  all the while believing
	  we are not to blame
	 Behind desks and thick glass,  we protect our jobs
	   by following mindless regulations
	  often hearing pleas from those that they destroy,
	    sympathizing yet never helping

	Part of the system,  we fail to rise above the limits
	  of its questionable wisdom
	 Filling the functions of some prepackaged lives
	   we lose sight of needed changes
	  and by identifying ourselves with socially programmed desires,
	    we become something less than human



	                Sword of the Slight

	     Outside of the mainstream
	       the ship of my soul drifts slowly away
	      cast out upon the uncharted seas
	        of isolation and unmet needs,
	       cast out only for being different
	         by being deficient in an aesthetic way
	        carrying a face doomed only to displease

	     No one speaks of it,
	       of my incarcerating disfigurement
	      which inevitably will draw their eyes
	        as I invade the confines of the sight
	       of the people in a picture perfect world
	         grown accustomed to uniformity
	        as enforced by the sword of the slight

	     They smile as they turn away
	       and say they are sorry but no,
	      they do not think that I am the right one
	        to suit their needs or to be of any help
	       while continuing the unspoken catharsis
	         of the submersion of the unseemly
	        who cannot by numbers defend themselves

	     Living the life of a pariah
	       is a harrowing yet illuminating way to be
	      as you see a great fear hidden safely away,
	        a fear of ugliness or of imperfection
	       in people too immersed in superficiality
	         to know or care deeply for the minds within
	        and blind to prejudice's subtlest manifestation









		      the indomitable straits of time


			     Motions Passing

		    Motions passing,  no one's asking
		      how it all could be
		     Days ending,  new ones pending
		       flowing eternally

		    Onward time,  leaving all behind
		      never letting them be known
		     Only facts,  leaving no tracks
		       except visions once shown

		    Empty places,  last embraces
		      wanting to stay real
		     Everything cries,  its disguise
		       breaks with fate's last seal


			      Eclipsed

		The motions of the universe,
		  so damningly precise and congruent
		 mark the seasons of my life
		   upon an eternal timepiece
		  created by the spinnings of stars
		    and mimiced by our watches gears

		But what of me,  I shout
		  letting my frustrations spill out
		 to become absorbed by the blackness
		   of the peaceful autumn sky
		  which never breaks its stony silence
		    to comfort or admonish me

		Left to wonder or to die
		  by divine providence or cruelty
		 I stand alone too empty to cry
		   for everyone and for myself
		  fated to be kept from understanding
		    the purpose behind their pains

		In conquest or perhaps resignation
		  I tune out the vastness before me
		 as I slip further into unconsciousness
		   falling asleep under a cloudless sky
		  for the indomitable straits of time bind
		    enough to destroy my hopes of understanding


		           Moments of Repatriation

		There comes a time in everyone's lives
		  when we cease to press on forward
		 and then pause to take our bearing
		   on where we are or where we are going

		The motions of the universe appear to halt
		  and our very existences seem to hang in limbo
		 while our minds take stock of our intentions
		   and compare them with our lives thus far

		Out of the world and deep within ourselves
		  we weigh the benefits and risks of returning
		 yet we gain precious momentum by confronting
		   the true desires we have for our lives

		As suddenly as it stopped,  life starts again
		  and the wheels of the world again turn
		 pushing us on towards our destinations
		   somewhat wiser and more self-aware


		       Waiting

	Waiting for the perfect moment
	 when all of the stars align
	  and rapture lies only just behind
	   that moment creeping up slowly
	    from the soul up into the mind

	Waiting while thousands pass
	 before you though you are blind
	  seeing only what is yet to come,
	   seeing only that some-other time
	    which you might never live to find

	Waiting while wondering why
	 you wait to live but not to die
	  leaving all of the living left behind
	   walking through today seeing only tomorrow
	    with yesterday's dreams still driving your eyes

	Waiting without even knowing
	 or knowing but not caring,  you die
	  each day a thousand deaths,  a thousand lies
	   for perfection lay in each hour,  each minute
	    with only your conception of it to give it its disguise


		       Tomorrow

	   Tomorrow I shall awake
	    to the dawn of a brand new day
	    unseen,  unknown to any who live today
	     and think and dream and believe
	    that they know what with it will come or may
	     as I too asleep to it still yet hail its new way
	    and dare embrace,  to touch,  to taste
	     in haste that which casts today away
	    for the sake of forsaking this day that stays
	     too long making me gaze longingly at unseen days
	    and praise that which may bring only greater pains,
	     to chance to lose,  yes,  but to chance to gain,
	    is twice but chance to lose more of the same








			     on into the sunset


			    The Dark Horse

		  Built like a mighty fortress,
		    the dark horse rides asunder
		   with its giant hooves
		     tearing up the ground,
		    making sounds like rolling thunder

		  Relentlessly it surges forth
		    like a vengeful demon of the night
		   making all bear witness
		     to its unbridled fury
		    and its overwhelming sense of might

		  Bound by the truth of existence
		    and binded to an earth dominated by Man,
		   it searches for escape
		     the only way that it knows,
		    by running as far and as fast as it can

		  Running to every corner of the land,
		    one and all will sometimes hear it
		   as it thunders past
		     seeking limitless pastures
		    and freedom for its restless spirit


		       Excelsior

      One by one I shall cut the ties
        which will bind me to the ground
       and I shall feel the pull of the heavens
         begging me to rise forth and come hither

      I shall sit in the comfort of my airship
        and watch the world fall beneath my feet
       while setting my gaze upon a far larger world
         whereupon the distant and unrelated become one

      As I look down from my celestial throne
        and revel at the expansiveness of my new sight
       I shall carry with me the hopes of the spoiled and the damned,
         as they bow before me longing to be set free

      Over boarders and barriers I shall drift away
        in my craft crowned by heat and golden sunlight
       and as countries and continents fade to a distant blur
         I shall learn true freedom at the mercy of destiny's winds


			   Crystal Castles

		    I live beneath
		      crystal castles in the sky
		     Castles waiting for me
		       until the day when I can fly

		    They are beautiful,
		      too beautiful to be seen
		     Instead you feel them
		       in your heart and in your dreams

		    Castles of wonder
		      too magnificent to describe
		     With towers of hope
		       to make your soul come alive

		    They fly high above us
		      yet they are always in our reach
		     Only love can take us there,
		       love we can learn but never teach


		        Lexicon

	   Everyone anxiously jumps upon
	     an antique train called Lexicon
	    riding forth steadily toward the sun
	      carrying all and sparing no one

	   Out from the multitude of paths
	     it surges forth leaving all else past
	    accommodating all wherever they need go
	      and showing them places only others know

	   Those who are hurried share space
	     with those who care not for a frantic pace
	    as they sit together riding the same line,
	      both reaching their destinations on time

	   It brings together all and lets them share
	     each other's truths and each other's cares
	    as they enjoy the ride in comfort and style
	      becoming closer with each passing mile

	   On into the sunset Lexicon rides
	     and at each stop its prominence presides
	    as each young generation climbs on board
	      eager to know the perspectives it moves them towards
