Moist leaves and forest chattel beneath my sandaled feet I became overly concerned at the lack of friction. So much so that I only heard the arrows whistle as it grazed my helmet, deflecting into a tree trunk with a customary frightening cathunk!. Out of my marching daze I roared racing headlong into the nettled underbrush as low and as fast as my legs could propel me. Crunching the underbrush with abandon the woods were kind in offering an uphill slope distorting their aim. I ran until my lungs burned and kept running only stopping a half mile or so down the other side of the broad hill to take a brief peek behind. Realizing that I had not been followed the ambush had been set and the opportunity missed. I don’t think they were waiting upon me specifically but were looking to take down any quarry, perhaps for robbery or murderous surprise.

A dangerous world awaits but none shall see discovery giving fear its reign. Air sodden with the random rains I took some time to regain my breath as the dark wood beckoned my entry. What swell the darkness proud to steal the heart of all men wandering? Conjured imagination and specters prime lay prudent for the asking. What dawn shall come to them places where sun may not call?

Refined in moments of deep thought and willing pursuit, my bastion brings peace only when I let the worries dissipate. Sworn allegiance to the brave few I have hewn my path through even the wicked glade hunting, seeking, investigating all that seems ill to good man’s eye. Castle’s with nestled hearth had rarely seen me visit. Looking out far beyond the land beneath my feet I am accustomed and welcome the highlands or the rolling prairie hills filled with bounty and silence. When they joined in my daily rest it would require a stout climb to some oft revealed perch where birdlike my crooked legs would be braced beneath me. Fire’s open eye looking all who entered. Camp’s home to those who need No King but the Maker.

Realism the dray of boring intent I waddle between the furthest dimension my psyche finds interesting. Done with the plastic vows of I never plan to get to it somehow my broad brush no longer covers the canvass of perspective. What in the universe improves with narrowing aperture? What cruise seeks to stay close and inspect that which someone should have pondered long ago. Everyone wants to go so far away, spanning parsecs and light years only to know that all you left behind has perished. Traveling not in time or distant but in the folds and punched holes in parallel tapestry I set my Spirit on High. Looking for moons yet wondered and days of light never made squeamish by the dark. My Spirit longs for eternal fire that shant be doused. I crave the light and what lay beyond, Hand in Hand with the Maker of the Dawn.

As I shake the webs from my brain, the thrum inside my cranium surrenders and I realize the Peace of having known the depth of psychedelic poisoned arrow tips. Looking at my shoulder clearly one had dug just deep enough in my buckler to have lain me unconscious in sleep filled trance for what must have been a full day, perhaps more. Concentrating impossible I sat cross legged in front of my thrice dead fire having been rained upon while I too laid open to the sky. Gathering my things I stopped to make some tea and listened to my heart play merengue beneath my skin so tightly bound. Gone for so long I hope that my deliveries would be forgiven, as I tapped my breast pocket for the letter my mind’s eye opened as I found not but one gold coin where the parchment should have been fingered. What was I going to tell them for a long gentle slumber traipsing the parallel universe would certainly not suffice.