Masquerade

With eyes fading fast I looked at what stood in front of me. The scene was usual, and so were those who shared it. Each of them familiar. All of them distant. Singularly secluded yet when they were unified they were lost. I sympathized with their jaded hearts, and understood the meaning of shame.

It seemed as though we walked down every street together. Perusing the wares of all and none. Interested in the silly things we abandoned rational thought. For as every item was bought or sold, and every thing devoured, we grew in size in each other's eyes while we diminished in our own. How is it that all I once knew I left behind this static smile?

While my plan accomplished a goal, but did not do it well, the pressure and pull in the fabric of life put a drain onto my role. We were miserable, and we were alone, even while we socialized with each other. So as my mask cracked, and the pieces came undone, I knew there was an answer to remove every one's.

With my eyes gleaming bright I looked at who stood in front of me. I saw their pain, their buried sufferings. And I dug, alone at first and for a while spurned. But still I uncovered deeper layers and removed darker dirt. Then they saw their farce, the fascimile of their remorse. And shyly at the start they dug along my side. Thus we raced towards the core, to reach the cancer and remove its source.

Every time we approached it, the great suffering drew away. Until suddenly our own tunnel collapsed onto the path we had forged. There was no time I felt more alone, than when cramped together in the darkness of a doom. Yet even though we failed we hoped, and for the first time prayed. That a greater excovator would come and like a surgeon remove the infamous blame.

The change was subtle, yet growing stronger every moment. All the while after our plea I knew that one had done the deed. And as my hope was taking wing all dirt removed itself from me. My masks now gone, my friends as well, we stood together and looked to tell. The masquerade is finished, and no more dances need be done. To satisfy a mysterious fiddler whose tune could only be danced by one.

Dt

Cosmic Reactions

Stars winked like many eyes, bringing light to fragile clay.
A sun beamed with passion, it fashioned illuminated day.
Comets fell as racing stones, reminding all of steep cost.
A meteor rammed with malice, it dooms the created lost.
Earth spins like unsure dice, remaining never in neutral.
A man fled with his children, he hid from those of astral.

Burning, blighting, seeking, slaying.
Turning, slighting, reeking, staying.

Fell they were who conquered man,
Fell they did to restore the big plan.
Lastingly did man speed from him,
Who though so great loved the dim.
A man, a star, did mount the timber,
In agonizing eternity in time limbered.

Bringing, healing, cleaning, saying.
Clinging, feeling, weaning, praying.

Lowering to rise, bringing a surprise.

Dt

An Ancient Riddle

Riddle me this, riddle me that, or please don't and go away because riddles really riddle my brain! Anyways, time for a riddle I read earlier today. Yes I didn't make it, yes I'm not ancient, and yes I did figure it out but I already knew the answer so it wasn't very hard. But! You may find either joy or extreme and utter depression at taking a crack at this minor enigma.

Out of the eater came something to eat. Out of the strong came something sweet.

Dt

Idle Devotion

In the pale morn over the hills yon, the bells did toll his passing. For every deed of his remembered so many were the tears shed. Nature stilled to honor the chanting while the undertaker buried their dead. "Did you recall the wind when it weeped? Or remember the falling of trees? I dare not collect so many dreams and see them become mere memories. The people now here have made their mistakes, you took your risks. And now do you cry foul? Cry tears if you must, even mourn for a while but for those who lose heart take your pride and leave."

It was the speech for the departed, and only those already lost to life would utter it. And after an eternity of listening a young man drew forward to speak the life of his friend. "Many here knew his actions and his words, but few were those who knew him. I was a watcher, and neigh upon being a friend." The crowd murmured uneasily as they realized he would not hold back.

"Most of his life was already lived before he realized it. He had gusto as a child with the joy of youth, and every new thing was his for the taking. Yet when he aged and left behind the child he grew not into manhood but rather he droned on through life. Flittering about from hope to hope, he gained only to know he did not. And yet despite this he talked to me often." It seemed the graveyard took a breath, praying the tale would end well.

"He would tell me of his life and the problems he encountered. He would tally his unhappiness in the shadow of the blessings. He would betimes accuse those who caused him harm. Yet most of all he would always ever tell me of his passion, the one thing he hoped to attain." Many were smiling, ready to be pleased at their friend's hope. "His master was ease, and the object that brought him a moment of peace."

Disappointment, grief. "His one hope, the only thing which kept him from despair was the slim chance that one day, somehow, the things which have failed him countless times would finally ripen to bring about paradise. Once when he was not quite an adult, but not quite a child he had a pure vision. To be a loyal subject and the bringer of peace. Yet what brings me the most sorrow was to see so much of his life wasted, so much which still might be."

It would have been comforting to say there was no dry eye in the field of the dead, yet untrue. The only one who wept, the only one who seemed to care, and the only one who remembered the words was the one who spoke them. He had come hoping to make a friend that day but those who had come only turned away. Even though they knew the undertaker would come for them as well, they too clung to an insane hope thinking their alternative to be a mad dream.

His last words were, "Lo, I remember the wind when it weeped, and I recall the falling of trees. I dared to collect all the dreams, even when they are snatched from me. I made no mistakes but I took the biggest risk, and your whole life you cried foul at my loving caress. I shall cry tears when I need, and even mourn for eternity but I shall be stout of heart knowing there will not always be a cemetery."

Dt

Doorways

A tall padlocked door stood before her.
Had she waited longer than the portal?
It seemed so ancient and hallways recur.
Her path as a wheel turned back to call.
The more fixed, the farther she dropped.

A key so small to work on the big hole.
How could rusted tumbles be controled?
It appeared too grave and the wind stills.
Her way as a road yet the walls did chill.
The more frozen, the harder to unstop.

A shadow so black to throw back all light.
How might tiny candles pierce that night?
It looked over sinister and in fell darkness.
Her journey as a ghost moans and possessed.
The more fractious, the easier to collapse.

A truth so free to show her all resolve.
Had she missed simplicity that evolves?
It was freshly gentle to access the door.
Her gate as a hedge through the dark.
The key most fitting, lightest in mark.
And all waiting over her steps assured.

Dt

A return, other topics, and a sticky

Westu (insert your name here) hal! No, I'm not of the Rohirrim but I am re-reading the exceedingly great works of Professor J.R.R. Tolkien. And honestly this is the first time I have ever enjoyed it. Now don't get cranky, but they have put me to sleep as surely as a drug in the past. See my new poll, and here are the rules thereof. There is a section for every race of Ambar (the planet yo) that I can think of, by race I mean being of sufficient intelligence to meet my requirements (able to communicate by word or thought, able to create as well as destroy) and there are quite a few. Here is your task, I shall describe in short the basic nature of each race and you will pick no more than two which you think aptly fits me. I also encourage you to comment on which ones fit you the best, or why you chose what you did. I will publish a note with the descriptions as a sticky with the poll.

Dt

A short reprieve

Good -insert time of day reference here- all. For the next few days all of my time will be devoted to the enrichment of my mind for an exam. Ah yes, tis true I must cry off until said exam is finished. Luck will do me little good on this 100% essay and drawing exam, only actual skill and memorization will prove victorious. I shall need great amounts of concentration over the next few days so that I do not waver from the goal. So keep me in mind in this manner.

Dt

A synopsis in thought

Once upon a time, when I attended

a certain college before the

regular age of enrollment, I sat

in the seat of learning in an

English class. My professor

was, as they say, "open-minded"

and accepted any well thought

writing with glee. I wrote many

papers for him (each receiving

perfect, or nearly so) and one

such was a basic approach to

thought. How do people think?

Why do people think the way they do?

Are there unique thought processes?

Etc.

I avoided in large the worldview

aspect of thought (though extremely

important, and in the end decisive

to WHY people think the way they do)

because I was focusing on the mode

of thinking,not the reason.

To get to the point, I divided

all of humanity into groups of people

who share the same mode of thinking.


1.) Those who perceive the world

visually. Not just perception, for

information is taken in by a vast

majority of the population in this

manner, but rather those who more

easily visualize a concept.

For example, those who think in

pictures when attempting to find

a definition to a word and then

describe the word by the picture.

Some of the greatest mathematicians

have been visual thinkers (Euclid

for one, after all he did more or

less invent geometry). But artists

also tend to see things visually,

the ability to manipulate shape in

one's mind is a creatively inspired

trait.


2.) Those who perceive the world

through sound. This set is actually

rather rare, there are few who define

their world by what they hear.

Por exemplo, say you were attempting

to remember how a song's tune goes.

You probably hum what you can

remember or say the words you know

to the song, you are trying to

replicate the song so that it jogs

your memory better. If you turned

this process on its head you would

come up with a sound thinker, one

who instead of using the sound as

the medium between a different mode

of thinking and the end result would

probably remember the song better

and quicker because they are

photographically inclined.


3.) Text based thinking. If you were

an evolutionist you would quibble

that text based thinking should be

rare as writing is too recent an

edition to the human experience.

You would be wrong. Text based

thinking is not rare, but it's not

common either. For the "texter" the

process of cognition is more likened

to either a long line of associations

or a direct logical line.

Strangely, the books of my research

did say that phonographic memory

and sound based thinking were

related, but that texters and

photographic memory were not

necessarily related.


4.) Now, you may be wondering are

there taste thinkers and touch

thinkers? If there are then they

are so rare that my research did

not uncover them. However there is

a fourth category, I call the

blind thinker. So far the mode is

more or less based on one of the

five senses, two in sight and one

in sound. These abilities have one

thing in common, they both can

perceive communication.

I think this is a key to understanding

why we think the way we do, in order

to better communicate. But the blind

thinker may or may not have

communication as his main objective.

For he may ponder on an issue without

actually consciously processing his

thought in one of the more

recognizable modes. And once the

thought has reached the pinnacle of

its discovery then it is translated

from the subconscience to the conscience

using a more or less random mode.


Most people can identify with one

of these modes, but almost everyone

has used each of them at one time

or another. I find that if I ranked

myself on the modes that occured

most often would be thus,

1.) Sound, 2.) blind,

3.) shape, 4.) text.

Sound I use most often (or at

least I remember using it most often)

but I use sound as one might use text.

2nd place was only slightly in

favor of blind because I have a

strong bent towards shape

manipulation but I have to try to

think about shapes, I don't have

to try to blind think. Text just

seems too much like my use of

sound for me to bother, and its

hard to think that way for me.


Dt

A Translation

Here is the translation into english of a famous Brazilian song named Aguas de Marco, Waters of March. One of my favorites.

A stick, a stone,

It's the end of the road,

It's the rest of a stump,

It's a little alone
It's a sliver of glass,

It is life, it's the sun,

It is night, it is death,

It's a trap, it's a gun

The oak when it blooms,

A fox in the brush,

A knot in the wood,

The song of a thrush
The wood of the wind,

A cliff, a fall,

A scratch, a lump,

It is nothing at all

It's the wind blowing free,

It's the end of the slope,

It's a beam, it's a void,

It's a hunch, it's a hope

And the river bank talks

of the waters of March,

It's the end of the strain,

The joy in your heart

The foot, the ground,

The flesh and the bone,

The beat of the road,

A slingshot's stone
A fish, a flash,

A silvery glow,

A fight, a bet,

The range of a bow

The bed of the well,

The end of the line,

The dismay in the face,

It's a loss, it's a find
A spear, a spike,

A point, a nail,

A drip, a drop,

The end of the tale

A truckload of bricks,

in the soft morning light

The shot of a gun

in the dead of the night
A mile, a must,

A thrust, a bump,

It's a girl, it's a rhyme,

It's a cold, it's the mumps

The plan of the house,

The body in bed,

And the car that got stuck,

It's the mud, it's the mud
Afloat, adrift,

A flight, a wing,

A hawk, a quail,

The promise of spring

And the riverbank talks

of the waters of March,

It's the promise of life

It's the joy in your heart

A stick, a stone,

It's the end of the road

It's the rest of a stump,

It's a little alone
A snake, a stick,

It is John, it is Joe,

It's a thorn in your hand

and a cut in your toe

A point, a grain,

A bee, a bite,

A blink, a buzzard,

A sudden stroke of night
A pin, a needle,

A sting, a pain,

A snail, a riddle,

A wasp, a stain

A pass in the mountains,

A horse and a mule,

In the distance the shelves

rode three shadows of blue

And the riverbank talks

of the waters of March,

It's the promise of life

in your heart, in your heart

-Aguas de Marco, By Antonio Carlos Jobim

Dt

P.s. This song is talking about Fall, when the blister of summer is fading. This is one of the most beloved times of year for brazilians because they can actually go outside without worrying about heat stroke.

P.p.s In the Various good music section there is a video of the recording of Aguas de Marco. You may recognize it because, 1, it's in portuguese, 2, it's a duet. Enjoy!

ONE

In the end and in the beginning
Time of two sides but one line
Such lines intersect many times
Some run together, others by side
Rare are the ones which make cords
Of so many lines crossing as before
A cord of three strands holds fast
The single threads interweave
Canvas made of solitary things
Each necessary, some important
Each independent, all unified
Yet there are some, rarer still
That once crossed create anew
Not two strands or even a rope
Rather something mysterious
A new thing not defined
At the crossroads and at the meet
Two beings cross, can no one see
The self weave they stitch
The portrait they create

Dt

P.s. This poem is... different than any other I have made.

An interesting qoute

The following qoutation has been on my mind for a while. In fact whenever I read it my heart is deeply moved. I hope you enjoy it as well. The topic of the qoute is love.

"He threshes you to make you naked.
He sifts you to free you from your husks.
He grinds you to whiteness. He kneads you until you are pliant;
And then he assigns you to his sacred fire,
that you may become sacred bread for God's sacred feast.
All these things shall love do unto you
that you may know the secrets of your heart,
and in that knowledge become a fragment of Life's heart.
But if in your fear you would seek only love's peace and love's pleasure,
Then it is better for you that you cover your nakedness
and pass out of love's threshing-floor,
Into the seasonless world where you shall laugh, but not all of your laughter,
and weep, but not all of your tears."

- The Prophet by Kahlil Gibran

Dt

A sentence of self evaluation

Again, I the Stranger, greet thee warmly. It is time for the first sentence. Please allow me to explain a few things about my idea. I have, for a while, attempted to cram, squeeze, and compact those I know well into a sentence. The description of someone's core in a short and easily memorizable format. For those of you who know me extremely well you may be able to see how the coming sentence describes most of me (well, it DID describe me but I have changed a great deal since this was forged so it now only describes a part of me and my history). So heed this sentence well and you may find yourself recalling ways I fit the bill. Here goes.

The twice masked one with Jester and Vengence ever hiding Thinker.

In a future post I shall explain the sentence, but not in a direct manner.

Dt

Star Sailor

Sometimes sailor across empty spaces,

I listen to the void, the silence in time.

The racer towards the brightest places,

I know of the loneliness, also of prime.

The home I hope for is simply heaven,

I flee from the denizens darker in form.

What brings me life is seeing of sevens,

The number perfect in all of its norm.

I hear the sounds, the help in the sky,

The graces of earth, the high sigh.

That great salvation of me, it is neigh.

Cannot you also see? It is the stary cry.

Dt

CONTROL, Control, control, con.

A memory is lost in the heated fight,

and an angel cries over her rights.

The two ideas battle to and fro;

ever alone and never to grow.

Should she go or should she stay?

She never knew the right way.

One idea rises above the other;

she leaves her house, her land, and her brother.

She walks down the dark stairs;

with blood on the note like nobody cares.

Emotions so fierce they would move the world;

if only she’d see it all unfurled.

Her name is the loneliness carrying her away;

ever on, should she go or should she stay.

With every step she questions her reasons;

knowing she’ll turn to save her treasons

For now she dwells in her myriad of thoughts;

never remembering the love that was lost.

Why can’t she see her arm as it bleeds?

She can’t remember her most basic needs.

So even now as we meet.

She is in a corner crying over a fee.

Dt

The Muse is Silent

... Or else I would post a poem. Instead I shall post my thoughts on the two major economic schemes which are claimed to be in use.

1) Capitalism (Republicans tout as their way); ie. What our country was built upon. The idea that, in essence, what is good for companies either large or small is good for everyone else. The logic is more less this, if, for example, a large company increases its profits by a significant margin then it will necessarily grow in order to meet the demands. To grow a company must hire and give promotions, with these the work base expands and people are better paid. People with more money tend to heighten their cost of living and because of this, other companies receive more money. It has a ripple effect, lessening as it falls down.

My response, four stars out of five. This system is great! There are a few weak points where the logic does not necessarily have to follow (although it still CAN). A company would be insane not to grow when it had the chance, but some companies prefer to remain small (a small percentage). The company does not HAVE to pay people better when the workforce is larger (Ie. promote more to managerial positions etc.) but it would be a very bad idea for management to give people more authority but not increase their payroll (this happened to a friend of mine, he quit). People with more money can also tend to save instead of spend (this is my inclination) but history has shown that unless times are hard people like to spend when they can (or even when they shouldn't).

In the end what really plays into this scenario is the employer's ability to get and train new hires to be up to par with those who turned over. Why? Two reasons and outcomes. Reason one, if they want to grow they have to hire, too much on one person's plate just makes quality poor. Reason two, if they want to grow but don't want to pay more they can expect people to quit, and therefore need to have an efficient training program. It's funny how much Capitalism is based on grass roots becoming more like trees and bushes.

2) Liberalism (Uhh, you know who): ie. taking the economy by the horns and channelling it. Basic concept; imagine you have a small country, for this example Sweden. Now Sweden has a stable economy, good income, and is in most areas a pretty good place to live (from a purely monetary and safety perspective). Since Sweden is established it would be fairly easy to track the economy and tax it accordingly. With these taxes programs are established, welfare, social security, health care, etc. Anything that is applicable to the people is what Liberalism applies money to. In a nutshell, the government takes some money and then uses it to help people who can't or won't do things for themselves.

My response, 1 star out of 5. Liberalism takes this as true, you don't really know what's good for you. Which in some cases may actually be true, the mentally retarded, the insane, the suicidal, the list could go on. But by and large people have the capacity to figure out what they want and need to survive. Food, somewhere to live, and a stable job. Those are the very basics but included in this domain is also, health insurance and retirement plans. Any human who had the ability to think cognitively should be able to find a way to make these things reality. Not all will do well at them, not all will do them even if they can but that doesn't mean society at large must be burdened with those who are either lazy or simply don't seek counsel.

In our world this is a bit of a pipe dream. If we had a government of no corruption, a people with very few lazy and/or mentally deficient parts, and an economy that could bear the weight of the taxes then (and only then) could this system work in perpetuity. It breads dependence on government, usurps freedom, and in the end causes division in the country at its core. Between those who have and those who have but "have not" and want more. It should have never been.

Historical view (Basically what everyone thinks is second nature, but really isn't); ie. the blood sweat and tears movement. What starts a country? What makes it successful? Thrive? Or even make it survive the hard years in the beginning? The purely scientific answer, blood, sweat, and tears. Hard work is what makes a country firm, striving and grasping to be significant. Laying the cornerstones of the economy and society. Only through endurance, much studying, inventing, patenting, accomplishment, distributing, producing, and above all selling can any country make itself successful.

My response 5 stars out of 5. In essence this view isn't a "practical" way of applying economics. It isn't a handy dandy formula. It isn't even a real answer. But what it certainly is, is a philosophy. It's a manner in which things should be done. As soon as a country gets comfy, things go south. It's true, it's been proven countless times in history only when the populace in general is willing to get up and get active does a country galvanise itself against self-destruction through slumber. In my opinion the most direct way to do this is in semi-pure capitalism (No one can have all the power but the people themselves. So corporations must have a check to them, you can decide what it is because for this point I don't have a specific opinion) but that's just me.

So in conclusion, Yay for hard work, boo for a middle man in my money, and please let's just go back to the things that worked.

Dt

Punishment

That's right folks, welcome to your first ever post of discipline! Topic for today is, comments! I have a grand total of 6 (now 7) posts on display and I have 6 comments on ONE of them. This causes me slight dismay. I know, you're thinking but what if I don't read this until it's too late? Well seeing as I have absolute control over my blog I get to call the shots. Here is a rough draft of a constitution of the Melded much blog.

I the person of the Melded much blog for the purpose of a more perfect blog here envision the rules of the blog.

Article 1 The blogger

Section 1

I the blogger shall endeavor to post daily an article of my own creation, either in the form of poetry, story, or opinion. This task is not necessarily possible, but nonetheless I shall forewarn when blogging is impossible.

Section 2

All my work is my own, and is here forth copyrighted and all quotations, references, and etc. shall be submitted for my approval beforehand and once acquired my blog and myself must be given all due credit for the work.

Article 2 The commenter

Section 1

All those who leave a comment must do so in a form in which I may contact them back in order to either remedy or argue a point. Most of those who comment shall be my own close friends, but the occasional outsider may appear due to blogger's random blog button. To you, the unknown quantity I welcome but also know I well delete your comment if it is not appropriate and if you do not leave a contact. No anonymous comments!

Section 2

In response to my daily postings I, the blogger, request and require for at least one comment once every three days, at the very least. The comment must be more than a simple, "that was good!" or along those lines, give me something applicable. If this requirement is not met I will simply halt my posts until it has been fulfilled to my placation.

Article 3 Blog spot

Section 1

If Blog spot scouts my profile and decides it is worthy of being in the "top ten" on any given day I shall respond with a "why thank you ever so much" and then use my popularity for the furtherance of the gospel.

Section 2

I am aware that my own sovereignty over this blog is due to the sufferance of Blog spot and if for any whim of their own they could very easily obliterate it. For this reason I do not cry "Independence!" but rather "Let's work together... please!". To my knowledge blog spot is no tyrant.

Dt

Defense (Part 2)

They did not. Once again we retired from battle, triumphant and tired. I saw to the wounds of the others and they saw to mine. And again the horn sounded. When the moles came we felt some dismay, but when the wolves approached we knew we were in over our heads. “Engineers!” called the captain, “we need fire. Dismantle all your devices immediately.” And it was so. Wolves they were called for they were dangerous alone or working as one. They were proficient in the blade but it was not this we feared, and they were more than many, and we were still few. “A power approaches,” said the watchman, “he seeks the captain’s life.” “Form the line and buckle your shields together.” Were the captain’s orders, he seemed nonplussed by the watchman’s observation and we knew he feared it not. This was a battle proper, and as the wolves met us blow for blow we suspected the power close. Even I felt it, and my brothers called me blind in this. The wolves howl, and the moles whisper, but a power does not let his voice be heard. When the wolf before me fell I scanned their midst to pick out the power. “His presence is near, but I see him not!” Said I, and suddenly I realized. I scanned the heavens and then I saw the power and his steed swooping towards us. I recognized his dark Pegasus as the former horse of a fallen comrade. “Archers!” I yelled, “Sweep the sky!” Their arrows hounded after him wherever he flew but he flew fast and dodged well. Soon the arrows were spent and the power bore few injuries from them. But I had not the time to watch for the wolves were howling before us. No matter how I turned or what manner of fighting I used I could not move from my place. I then grasped the sum of our situation, the watchmen’s words were the warning and the wolves a portent. The power came to kill our leader and the wolves to hinder aid. I relayed the conclusion down the line and soon the word returned and with it a question, “what shall we do?” The fire, I decided, the fire would have to do. “Light the field!” I answered, and torches were thrown where we had before strewn oil. “Shield wall, forward!” I commanded and we pushed the wolves to burn. They regrouped on the other side of the flames with a vast number of them slain. The odds were still in their favor but they would no longer bind our steps. “In the short reprieve let us all reflect on the alters behind us. How he performed the marvelous works done there, the great mysteries he revealed, and our arming from his hands. We are few yes, but we are more than whatever magic is thrown at us, for his power is deeper still.” The captain spoke the words of our own hearts and calmed our doubts. We moved our fallen to the rear and prepared ourselves for the final melee. Again they approached, and we moved not, again they fought us fiercely, and we moved not, again they howled and turned our blood to ice, and we moved not. As we became the mill that ground the mountain down I saw the power’s steed free of its rider. And knew then my greatest feat was yet to come. I by no means thought myself capable of standing before the power, but perhaps the steed would remember his former master. “Hail old friend,” I said softly, “how came you to be as this?” The Pegasus glared at me in anger. “Whoa there, I mean you no harm.” He snorted in doubt. “Do you know of your rider? He is a power and bends you to his will through bondage. Remember atonement!” The Pegasus lowered his head in shame. And before my eyes the winged horse changed into a winged man. “Say full atonement next time, it works better.” Sarcasm, but his state was an improvement. “Ho there lieutenant, it is good to see you free. Shall we fall upon the power?” Said I, “Indeed we shall, but keep close for I am not as resolute as once I was.” He replied. We came upon the scene of the captain standing before the power. He was firm, but his strength was waning. We came to his aid and fought the power individually for a while. As soon as one of us tired the other came to fight in his place. We kept him occupied without suffering any lasting injury. The three of us soon saw the power fear, for his wolves would howl no more and the company stood against him. The power tried to sway the lieutenant to fly him away; with the power of his presence he pressed him. “You offer me slavery as if it were delightful. Nay!” said the lieutenant. One hundred swords made one, and the One sword cutting past all dark defenses. Thus was he destroyed and all his moles of control, his wolves and mainstay gone and the lost redeemed from his grasp. There, upon the spot of advancement was an alter placed and all our dead were entombed to stand as witness to the victory.

Dt