Freedoms Hands

Freedoms Hands

By MRJB Skyelord

In this wilderness of my mind I search for a meaning to the life I have that is before me, and naught can I see that is even a path set to the sum of the innocence that is behind.

In my head is a wheel that is forever turning holding on to the pictures of my life of today, yesterday and the morrow, but alas will not even slow down to let me grasp what I am doing now. I reach out, but it evades my grasp and spins even faster.

TURNING, TURNING, FOR EV-e- e- e v e-r, turning, I reach out again for this wheel that controls my life but to no avail. I must surly loose what scant thoughts I have as I disappear into the depths of sleep that is enforced upon me. And with a boding of unease, fear, tears I can no longer fight this heavy burden that is on my shoulders, pushing me deeper and deeper I fall and I am gone?

Silence and darkness was now mine. I could neither hear nor see the world outside my sleep and this mortal body was no longer mine.

And life. What of the life that I have left behind. I think nought of that burdensome soul, its sadness' is not what I wish for and I feel the worries and burdens of the soul lift with ease. My cares have dissipated into oblivion. Silence. Darkness. Rest.

But no, the fear has not subsided, it is there, resting, waiting. I feel deep in my inner senses shapes and shadows that are moving round me they to are in sleep and as wary and defenceless as I. I wonder round with no sense of direction or time, seeing nobody just sensing that they are there, and slowly they have gone leaving me to my solemnity and again I rest.

I sense in the distance a movement and I stand and coming to me I see a figure and I feel in awe. I wait and as it approaches my mind tells me it is wrong and I feel fear. Coldness engulfs my body as I realise that this could well be my last breath of life, death approaches and I am weak with fear. Mea Culpa, Mea Culpa Pater and I turn to fight.

Death circles me and wary of trickery I follow, he takes off his hood and my heart does stop with horror, and I turn aghast at such sorrow and hatred that is in his face and reel back, and he strikes and by the hair of the dragon I escape. Flashes of light in purples, greens and silver is rendered from my soul as I try to vanquish this foe, in fashions of the sword I weave the patterns of war to defeat him, minute after minute passes by and the thunder echo's throughout the darkness and I am alone. Slowly I begin to weaken and his victory could well be nigh. I try to rest for a second he strikes my inner mind my defences are in disarray and I ask the lord for forgiveness that I may rest with him in peace.

By all the saints I scream as I feel this power that has grabbed my very soul, it doth feed my heart my mind what is this torment that I am to face in this land of darkness.

Then I feel a cooling hand upon my brow, it eases my pain calms my mind refreshing my very soul and death turns in anger in a fury that I have not seen in many war since my last, and again I must fight. The heavens are ripped asunder as the magic of mind and soul collide, the darkness is shattered as the lights dance their way round oblivion as they collide with death and still he stands. And then I see his angels do follow and again my heart grows heavy at what I see and again I feel that hand that I should know, it again cools my brow and gives me strength and again death and his followers do come in anger.

Each time I weaken I am given strength and slowly the foe is being returned to damnation but they are many and my soul feels that it may not carry this day.

Inside my head I hear the sounds first as a rustle of the wind in the leaves then is the bird in cheer it is calling, distantly calling. And there to my right I see what can only be described as a cloud of blinding light, Silver and Gold's. And that chant, it was driving hells imps to a frenzy of fear and more of the angels of death did come. As the light came closer I did see riding at the front my friend she was holding up the hand of freedom, the hand that I Should of recognised it calmed my mind, my soul and gave me strength and in this hand she does hold the claymore from the mountain of Drochaid. Its jewels Flashing lights all over the mid of nothingness. The claymore gave of sheen of glittering gold. Only one of two people could hold this sword, it was held by the lady of Drochaid Lusa for those who defend the Highland gates and the realms of sleep from death. And here she came my Morag, The Lady of Drochaid Lusa the silver of her strength making the angels of hell cower and run from her.

And again the war began in earnest. And standing to my sides came the Jainel lady of Galasheil (the land of magic. Morag. The Lady of Drochaid Lusa. Mary The Lady of Doune Forest. Ellie The lady of Elvendom. Lachlan the keeper of dreams and from the Lands of Isleskye are the friends we speak to often but are to numerous to mention they all gave strength to the fight they all bid me well.

And so the battle is in full and the mid heavens open to a crescendo of war. Thunder and lights that are never the likes to be seen on earth, they are blinding to the followers of the reaper. As death strikes forth from the sword of Drochaid blinding lights of gold smite hell itself. The claymore it twists and turns in Morags hand with a life of its own, and damnation are afraid slowly but surely they are vanquished to whence they came, weary but elated we have won and the time is ours. And we gather in accordance to our ways each is one and to each other we are a whole strike one strike us all. And again mid heaven is silent but lit by the golden glow of the claymore.

But hold what is this, what is happening, I am tricked into foolish thoughts and I am leaving my friends. Something is dragging me bodily away from those that I know and again I am forced to struggle in a realm of the unknown.

Then once more the hand reaches out and calms me and relaxes me. Eases my fear of the travel I must make and guides me to my return, and I am awake. There is the coolness of white linen upon my bed and faces that surround me to see I am well.

(The beginning to the Book of Freedoms Hand)