Post by Aedon on May 22, 2011 12:32:36 GMT -8
I have had much time to go over the information and stories contained within the tomes left me. And, though it has been a time consuming task, I have thoroughly enjoyed getting to know the Durreah family better. It would seem that I come from a long line of noble folk. One would never guess that by first glance, but for all the nobility which courses through my blood, I am more then content to be a common man.
I have also gathered, in one spot in my home, many papers pertaining to my personal life and have made a wonderful discovery. It would seem that I have a fifth wedding anniversary rapidly approaching. This is uplifting to my soul, especially when I recall that, but a few months back, I thought myself widowed and considering the need of a female companion.
Love is a tricky thing. It is the one greatest emotions felt by man or woman. One which has given rise to kingdoms, and laid low empires. Within the throes of passion, a man is consumed by a fire which drives him to many deeds both brave and foolish. It is in the eyes of a woman that many men seek solace or an affirmation of their worth. And love, when good and true, brings out the best in a man; his nobility, compassion and desire to give all in service of his heart.
When love is false, the heart - more oft broken - seeks reasons to explain the absence of feeling; it more oft than not must come to face. If a man offers his heart in good faith, to a lass who be as fleeting as the seasons, he must be prepared to time and again find himself at the very depths of despair. And for this lowest point in his life, he must then either succumb to the pain, or, more often then not, choose to trust again, offering his heart as a tender feast to a woman who will either accept and keep it safe or consume it as a black widow spider devours her mate.
It is a rare thing to find ones soulmate in the world these days. And it's a rare and intelligent man who is willing to open his eyes and see her, when standing toe to toe.
My heart knew her when first we met and, in story and poem, I have extolled her virtues time and again. Though I may have called her by another name, and for a time wondered what it was so grand a lady ever saw in me, she has been a part of me still.
Now, as our twenty-fifth rapidly approaches, I find myself sitting near the plot of land we shared behind the Abbey. I am not sure what befell this place, or where Jan and Kylee may be, but I am content to wait upon my heart, and hope that one day soon we will find one another again.
Aralanthe gave me these tomes to remind me of a people and a history he wished not to be forgotten. In serving my new task as lore-keeper for 'Family Durreah', I have found contentment, purpose and a strong sense of what it means to belong to someone; and to know, I mean really know, that they are yours as well.
In pig tails spun of winter wheat
She walked into my life
And as the years did come and go
I vowed she'd be my wife
This warrior maid, both strong and fair
Has eased my troubled past
And in her arms, her heart and eyes
I found my home at last
I've called her Maggie, Asiling
My lovely fairy dream
My Lady of the Glade always
If I were king, my Queen
I have also gathered, in one spot in my home, many papers pertaining to my personal life and have made a wonderful discovery. It would seem that I have a fifth wedding anniversary rapidly approaching. This is uplifting to my soul, especially when I recall that, but a few months back, I thought myself widowed and considering the need of a female companion.
Love is a tricky thing. It is the one greatest emotions felt by man or woman. One which has given rise to kingdoms, and laid low empires. Within the throes of passion, a man is consumed by a fire which drives him to many deeds both brave and foolish. It is in the eyes of a woman that many men seek solace or an affirmation of their worth. And love, when good and true, brings out the best in a man; his nobility, compassion and desire to give all in service of his heart.
When love is false, the heart - more oft broken - seeks reasons to explain the absence of feeling; it more oft than not must come to face. If a man offers his heart in good faith, to a lass who be as fleeting as the seasons, he must be prepared to time and again find himself at the very depths of despair. And for this lowest point in his life, he must then either succumb to the pain, or, more often then not, choose to trust again, offering his heart as a tender feast to a woman who will either accept and keep it safe or consume it as a black widow spider devours her mate.
It is a rare thing to find ones soulmate in the world these days. And it's a rare and intelligent man who is willing to open his eyes and see her, when standing toe to toe.
My heart knew her when first we met and, in story and poem, I have extolled her virtues time and again. Though I may have called her by another name, and for a time wondered what it was so grand a lady ever saw in me, she has been a part of me still.
Now, as our twenty-fifth rapidly approaches, I find myself sitting near the plot of land we shared behind the Abbey. I am not sure what befell this place, or where Jan and Kylee may be, but I am content to wait upon my heart, and hope that one day soon we will find one another again.
Aralanthe gave me these tomes to remind me of a people and a history he wished not to be forgotten. In serving my new task as lore-keeper for 'Family Durreah', I have found contentment, purpose and a strong sense of what it means to belong to someone; and to know, I mean really know, that they are yours as well.
In pig tails spun of winter wheat
She walked into my life
And as the years did come and go
I vowed she'd be my wife
This warrior maid, both strong and fair
Has eased my troubled past
And in her arms, her heart and eyes
I found my home at last
I've called her Maggie, Asiling
My lovely fairy dream
My Lady of the Glade always
If I were king, my Queen