The Sea and I		The Saving
The very word... Beyond the Fear of Death		Strength in Love
Her Own Way		A Dream's Wonderment

Note: (000, YYMMDD) = the approximate Yahoo Message Board entry number and date.
Spelling, punctuation, grammar, and line phrasing are as originally posted by the author.

Smoothly in and back outward, an effortless emotion of flow, one set wave upon another, layered with a perfection not found anywhere else, blue and green, deeper blue with a tint of teal, a brilliance of white, rolling till it reaches my heart, giving the comfort, it only can.

The ocean makes everyday, an infusion of delight, even when not there peering for the felt sense of calm, it invokes the wonderment of life it has, deeply into my soul.

It, the sea, never has a name, seemingly a name would remove the wonderment, passion, the felt spirit, brought unto mine, and only my spiritual presence allows what it means, where it goes for the heart, as if I alone own it.

Silent mirror of water, how do you bring yourself to me, in the way you do, for my peace?

No answer. That's okay, I admire what you do, the quietness set inside the soul, so life is all wrapped up to be thrown, far away from the temptation to be frustrated.

So, I sit, I watch, and bewildered by the beauty of it all.

©2000 Albert L. Wade, Jr.

crowstouch © Copyright, 2000

The path winds through the forest, bushes and trees are almost engulfing it, keeping to the trial as running, there is only one thought, one desire, and that is to find her. Running and hunting, not for death's sake, but for the passion of love, keeping her from the fate of darkness.

The marks are set upon the trees, nails digging for her wanting to be let go, showing a strength not even she knew could exist. It is quiet, only the breath that whisks itself from the containment of my lungs, pushing to get out, striving to be free, much the same way she herself wants, is heard.

What direction to take? Where in this menagerie of twisted wood and limbs, could she be? Listen for her, explore the wind to carry her scent and voice to you, allow the spirit to exist where not known, and her heart will be heard.

A far off crack, a listless sound of brush being pushed aside, her calling to me rushing toward the noise only love could have sent, I command the soul within myself to hurry and force the legs, run, run, fast and swiftly through these green of trees, the smelt odor of wooded bark, the bushes which seem to grasp the legs, run, run, to save her life.

Stopping, waiting, her breath is heard, she is near, and yet so very far, a slow walk through the forest's domain, gives an awkward feeling of despair and pain, can it be, she is only just a few inches, scene not set, stop and breathe her smell of love, seek out her desire to be found. A scream!

Run, run, faster to her whaling voice, nothing shall stop me now, closer and closer I go, please let me be swift to save her from this demise.

Stop, and shush! I see her eyes through the leaves, she is wanting of my attention to save her, but it must be done in the right moment of time, or her life becomes the marmoreal of mine, wait, waiting, move with the silence of deafness, reach for her hand, release her from the grasp, to which binds her heart to evil's way, beyond what can be known, in the sake of death's realism.

Calm, serene, befalls the forest. She is silent with sleep, comfort in heart for what love makes, beauty set upon the flesh, only sought as a spirit born to behold, a child, where smoothness becomes the beautification.

Peacefulness is desired of heart, and it shall rest, as does the sword, and the shield, unto another time, where victory set in love, waiver darkness in default.

©2000 Albert L. Wade, Jr.

crowstouch © Copyright, 2000

Fear not the wandering shadow, it comes with a peaceful hand, a hand that gracefully grasps yours, removing the spirit into another dimension, no time limits for the mind to stress with, no moment of illusion, for the body to become sickened, every thing is what it is, and beyond the depth of life, to live again, and again, and for evermore.

Shall the rain fall, yet not hit upon your flesh, and does the wind sound fierce, but nothing moves with it, nor wavers as if touched? Here a path lies straight, and sometimes narrow, lined with feelings of joy, happiness in abundance, a felt knowing of peace.

Fear not the hand that takes away, nor the leaving of another, or many, they will be fine, feeling the loving caress across their hearts from your own spirit’s lifting resilience as if alive, though you are, just not in their place of existence.

Step lightly into a realm of beauty, where brilliance becomes the stepping stones of love, where the evolved moment of life, co-inhabits the beginning, the end, and beyond.

Truth is the known way, through doors of wood, valleys of green, fields of flowers, and an exhilarating display of angels.

Come with the ways of God, it is His hand that which grasps yours, giving of His love, contentment and direction, the fear will not reside with Him, nor does the belief found only unto the way of the earth, but farthest yet, to the depth of blackness space holds for the soul.

©2000 Albert L. Wade, Jr.

crowstouch © Copyright, 2000

The wind is howling its name, blistering against the wood's skin, bouncing around from one room to the next, shrieking to be heard.

She comes closer with strength and balance, atop the steed of beauty and power, riding with a vengeance for her love to exist, stepping into one realm then another, to find that special being like her, to seek the one whom will deliver her heart to truth.

Sweat has begun to slide along the cheeks, little beads of water forming into bigger ones, touching…caressing her lips, seducing the vision into a makeshift world of lies.

She is the one, but for so long her heart has waned, cried for deliverance into the arms and felt bodement of love.

Through the rain and wind's screams, she rides with an ever increasing faith, faith that she will succeed, commence, the destiny of soul. The steed makes way for the tree lined path, mud and water splashing up in front, not impeding its massiveness, nor her willingness to make an ending, come quietly.

A figure stands tall at the end of path, the long coat wavering behind, black boots encompassing all the water that comes its way, standing and waiting... seeing if her love prevails the destined pain of nature, before the truth is made to be seen easily.

But today, the wind of night is no match, for the warrior of day, the princess of a saint, purity that rides a horse of wings, she finds her love, flings herself off the steed before stopping, grasping the leather coat, and holding on for life, peace, and quietness.

The rain subsides.

For now...

©2000 Albert L. Wade, Jr.

crowstouch © Copyright, 2000

She is not one to hide, nor will she be in the forefront, but there she sits, happy and content, for knowing of what truth, sets deep in her heart.

Now whether an angel or mouse, either, neither, or both, or loves scrumptious pies, does not the thought matter, it is her tenacity and integrity, that befalls amongst the wayward people of this electronic world.

Happiness is her game, contentment her gain, and we whom give thought of her special touch, become more complete, and too, have understood she is working hard for the written words, to withstand the eternity found in a cyber way.

O' does the spirit reside, well inward AngelPie Mouse, as an angel in disguise? So must be thankful, for her moments of time, and say...Hey thanks! As we pass amongst the Internet's way...

©2000 Albert L. Wade, Jr.

crowstouch © Copyright, 2000

He is seen riding a massive steed of white, The mane wildly flowing as the wind pushes Against him and the horse of power, Galloping as if the wind speaks with them, The steed's mouth filled with spit and foam, The sweat pouring off the arms of the boy Little drops bouncing off the hide, Making the horse feel cooled, Each droplet saying push forward my friend, We have no time to slow, We have no time to stop.

His destination is not far, He has to be there soon Or there will be nothing to do In saving the earth, To save his love, His own soul.

Bring it back he is heard to whisper, Bring it back to me, He says, I want my dreams and her love, Nothing can take that from me, Without my fighting for its life To stay within me, He is heard to say, Whispers sent through the air, Touching the leaves and branches, Those little critters scampering for their safety, Nothing shall stop his quest, nothing.

The path is removed They must make their own, And do so with ease, Nothing can stop them, They are as one, A thought of leaning right, The massive steed does so, A whisper of jumping and the Massive steed does so, They flow as if like water, Together and with perfect harmony.

The valley is coming closer, Everything alive knows of them, Even the hills seem to move for a glance, The trees certainly do, Listlessly meandering their arms of branches, As if to wave a hello as they pass, Not far he is said to say, The steed reacts with vengeance, A vengeful rush forward to stop the madness.

The boy can sense the spirit to which commences to hold life, The steed feels it too, They begin to slow, Both breathing hard, The air in front of the horse's nostrils turn white, Showing the early morn's coolness, brisk air And the quiet. Only the breathing is heard, Only the sliding upon the leather saddle, Only their hearts beating as one.

He has one weapon. It comes in use when given thought To why he is the one, Why faith makes the most powerful weapon of all, They move with a slow and methodical step, Each hoof touching at the exact precise moment, To not disturb anything within the path they walk, He is tall and strong, Sitting without any worry, And going through the valley of death.

They see her and the being, It turns with a startling quickness, They continue to ride forward, He bellows with a loud sickening stench of voice, To stop and halt their forward movement, They do not. Nor will not.

He sits atop the powerful steed of white, Setting tall with faith, Not being touched by anything the being Throws at them, Not wincing or showing fear. The steed jumps and starts to run with speed Beyond belief, Running hard and strong toward the being, He sits low and holds the reins, They both come at the being with no fear, The being looks back at her, then at them, Her again, the being grabs her ripping and tearing, Her flesh, Not soon enough to stop the hero or his steed, Not soon enough.

The horse bit the shoulder blade as the boy grabbed The being's hair and flung it into the path of the steed, Trampling the force out of it and sending it back, From whence it came...

Believe in the universal justice, And nothing will overcome the heart and soul, Of one's spirit, nothing.

The boy awoke from the dream with a wide smile.

©2000 Albert L. Wade, Jr.

crowstouch © Copyright, 2000