Mankind is a creature of learning; his heroes are seekers of wonder and his eyes are chambers of ravenous flame. Even the loftiest of leaders are not immune to the seduction of curiosity, lured into her supple bed for a night of unfiltered visions and uncanny inspiration. A sect of alluring forces selects its victims carefully… calling forth the sleepwalker, the spell speaker and thrill seeker alike; with legs akin to air they are led into the bowels of a wilderness orphaned by the gods of man, across sunless oceans and snow-spotted fields in search of trophies that would spark envy even among the closest of brothers. Weak are the dizzied mortals whose sole purpose is to bask in the ecstasy of primitive wonders, slack-jawed and teary-eyed at nature’s vicious beauty… and strong is the bond between such wonders and the austere world that has nurtured them since their awakening thoughts.
Secrets in their naked forms, sleeping in some vaults and restless in others, house themselves beneath the amber plains in wait for those few brave inquisitors that stumble in the graveness of night. Whether their discovery is a product of luck or misfortune depends on the motive of their claimer, for some yearn to feel closer to the unknown while others feel content to shrink in its shadow. Whatever the case, one taste of exile can make any avid traveler turn his back on his home and bathe in the pool that is dangerous to drink. The audacity of such truants will lead them to scavenge on the remnants of empires now relieved of their glory, such as the salted pillars of Atlantis or the mossy, vine-veined tombs of the Mayans. Leaning to the call of some forgotten religion teeming with abandoned gods, they dirty the hands that push society away as they dig for ancient counter-religious texts… drunk off the fumes of mold-padded chambers vented for the first time in countless years.
The few that return will bring tales of bold rituals, dark knowledge and even miraculous beasts; only to be mocked by the sedentary man who has never been known to bid on a journey. Pity on the one who has never sprinted across fear’s playground in pursuit of some forbidden treasure… for it is he that will never experience the most beautiful and treacherous places the winds have ever been. Only those brave enough will set out to conquer, and only those insane enough will refuse to return.
These lone knights guard eccentric wishes to be buried in queer places unmarked and unfenced, or to be reduced to ash and thrown to erratic winds that reach for every corner of the Earth. Though it might be against their mother’s will, a traditional ceremony is not among their last requests. The dark woods, the lonely dunes, the frigid cliffs are their funeral guests… and what better song to pay tribute than the solemn silence of terra nullius? For some strains of mankind home is not synonymous with a birthplace. Grabbing what few prayers drift far enough to reach them, the scattered explorers curl up beside cold stones and stern idols to be cradled by an abrasive wilderness; dreaming of the day when they will bring their findings back into sound light and tell their triumphs to the world.
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Bravo! This world was built on the brave and courageous ever seeking and ever chasing dreams, visions and conquests. We have it so easy now. Adventure and passion are fading. Well Done! Deborah
This is so true; love this preview as I love the others. Your work is an exquisite blend of spirit and intellect - painted in a beautiful shade of intrigue.
and a joy to read and re-read. Pure poetry in every line: Pity on the one who has never sprinted across fear's playground in pursuit of some forbidden treasure. This one goes to my library. - Gene.