His hair would be the first thing you notice. Strange it is to some people that a man would have hair that long, so long it comes to his knees. One half of it looks like a river of fire dancing it�s way to the floor; but it never touches the ground. The other half is black like a stream of dark midnight sky. And then his eyes would warm you. They�re not just any blue, but a warm crystal sapphire blue. With the way he looks at you, you would never know that his right eye is glass. His face is manly and smooth, no facial forest hair adorns these white fields of grain that are his cheeks and chin. His brows are the midnight black of his hair and tilt inward like two rolling hills in a flat valley. His lashes are long black whips of leather, soft to the touch, and sweet to the eyes. He has smooth silken lips that he paints with black lipstick. Naturally, they are an edible pink. He is tall and slim, but make no mistake that it is seven feet and six inches worth of muscle, not just skin and bones. His dress is tasteful and very fancy. Silk, satin and leather compose his wardrobe. And the one thing he never parts with is his fiery red and gold cloak that flows like a title wave to the floor.
When he walks his hair dances like flames in a fireplace. His steps are firm but silent, like a panther on a jungle trail. His clothes have a gleam of light that mimics his every move like water over skin. As well as I know him, I will never grow used to his movements. His cloak gracefully dances about him when he walks. The corners of it try to wind around him, but he breaks free from its grasp with each step, as if to say �I am a flame; I must be free to burn.�
His voice has many sounds because he has more than one mood, as we all do. I know when he is grieving because his voice becomes monotone with a moody attitude. It becomes manic, jumping between deep depression and simple joy as if he were battling inside with a darkness to keep his sanity. His fury is something I avoid. Not because he is violent physically, but because his voice takes on the quality of raging thunder when his anger is hot and rolling. It sends an unwanted chill of fear through your ears, down your spine, and back up again with each word he speaks. His voice is expressive in such a way that he really doesn�t have to yell to tell you he is displeased with you; so when the volume rises I want to run but can�t. When he is happy and speaks it feels as if spring has entered the room. Which brings me to his laugh. He has more than one of those as well. The one that rolls out the most is what I call his �heart laugh.� The sound is a tittle wave of joy from the heart. It makes me think of the things that make me happy; rainbows and unicorns after the rain has gone, frolicking in the sunbeams of a newly washed day. His �I�m in-love� laugh is more of a giggle. It turns this six-foot man into a small, humble child. Then there is his cynical laugh. This one makes me think the devil just walked in. It�s the kind of laugh you�d surly hear from Vincent Price in the movies.
Of course that tells you something of his personality. When I first met him he seemed like the funny fun loving type. In a group of people he was swift to chuckle with a joke. If a person is having a bad day he will make it his business and mission to bring a smile to their face. However, when you get a look inside the bowels of his mind you�ll find a chasm of painful experiences that have shaped him into the person he is. The fun side of him is where the death of his mother comes in. All he remembers of her is her smile; a smile filled with genuine joy regardless of the killing pain of extreme radiation sickness. He has always looked back on that memory for a source of strength to endure. He has been known to say, �Smile, you�ll change a persons life.� He is also the type who can play both sides of the field. Not because he is a fence rider when it comes to views in philosophy, politics, etc., but because he has been there, done that and found the truth. He is the type to teach you something about yourself by telling you the truth in the way you would want it to be stated; a truth teller. Once a little while back he warned me against going out with this one guy because he sensed something was not right about him. The guy in question turned out to be a level-two sex offender. After that I learned to trust his word more firmly. And because he always and, I mean always tells the truth, no matter how unbelievable the facts are that may escape his mouth, I have found him to be right on the nail. His beliefs are firm and fixed like an old tree that has seen a millennia come and go, and it is evident in his voice and the extent of his knowledge.
This kind of genuine gold hearted and firm resolve has earned him the life long role of an honest lawyer. He will defend only the side of the case that he can see is right. He has a gut feeling he has learned to trust with his life and he follows it in the courtroom like one would follow a compass. And although he has no children of his own, he is father to his friends. He ensures order and peace in his circle of pals. And to think his first name means peace and mercy. No problem goes unsolved in his world. In that respect he is also a seeker of knowledge, a detective of the undiscovered country we call the future. He�s a searcher of frontiers still unexplained in the chasm of our minds. He watches people, their actions, their words and their lives. To put it in plainer terms, he�s a psychologist in constant learning and experience training. His medical and computer technical field experience, have made him a bit of an inventor. He has already come up with mechanical arms that have the look and feel of real arms, but he is still trying to get them to work so that they move like the real thing. Another of his dreams in this field is to create a glass eye that you can see out of once it is installed.
As I have grown in size and knowledge over the years of my own life this man has grown at a hundred times that pace of time. I first knew him when I was six and we blossomed together. I would come in contact with a new world and he would become something more than what he was before. To fill a role I never would have in my life till I was 15, I created this wild father figure from a shadow on the wall. He is not even human. He is what I call a Crystice Crane. Still the thought of him and his ongoing story brings me strength to endure. He is my phoenix guardian, Jephar. |
