soul

I’ve Planted Roses

I’ve planted roses in my bones,
and left the ashes of those years,
in an urn mixed with tears,
lit on fire with my fears,
disintegrated, gone away,
I couldn’t live with them any longer,
I don’t know if it made me stronger,
holding on and out for hope,
I’ve planted roses in a kaleidoscope.
Revealed a thing I didn’t want to see,
I couldn’t escape it and now I’m free,
it’s what they say the truth will do,
not the kind they thought they knew,
a rainbow through the looking-glass,
in every color, shade, and hue,
I’ve planted roses for me, and you.
I’ve let my hip bones turn to wings,
I’ve let my heart remember things,
I thought would break my soul in two,
I’ve planted roses and now I’m through,
With the thorns she gave to me,
I’ve closed the window. Shut the door.
I can’t hear her anymore.
I found a love that lets me be,
I’ve planted roses in my bones,
in among the sticks and stones,
in the tall grass, among the weeds,
I’ve planted roses, I’ve planted seeds.

 

Teri Skultety, 7/1/18

On This Valentines Day

 

One of the most wonderful things within the many fine and good examples that Bruce Lee left us with, is his example of inclusiveness. Despite being met with prejudice throughout his life, he seemed to hold no such feelings in his own heart. He continuously broke with traditions. He fell in and love and married who he wanted to marry. If you came into his studio, dojo, with an open heart, an open mind, a willingness to learn and be taught, he would teach you. It made no difference to him what color your wrapping paper was, no difference to him if you were male or female, his wife, Linda, was one of his students. He stayed true to what he believed in despite being met with continuous opposition and challenges to his ideas, his philosophies, his approach to living. Bruce Lee understood that prejudice is the product of ignorance, and the antidote, is education.

I’m at the beginning of really checking this out thoroughly, but I can show some love for that example for sure.

Have a Happy Valentines Day.

TS

 

Bruce Lee, website

Bruce Lee, wiki

The History of Valentines Day

You Don’t Mess Around With Jim

In The Lingering of November

Almost December,
I wonder what it will bring with it,
however much I try not to.
I think about the things we think
we always wanted,
the ones we got,
and the ones that got away,
in the middle of the day,
in the glaring light of dawn,
in the fading twilight,
in the moonlight
in the dark night,
I wish I may, I wish I might,
starlight, star bright, oh…
it’s alright, alright.
I think about the graceless wandering
of insomnia that sticks,
that catches,
that tugs at the mind or the soul or the heart,
to walk it around turning on lights,
drinking water, making chamomile tea,
looking for something on tv, trying to read,
seeking comfort when the quiet is too loud,
wound up like a knot that no one can undo, only me,
only you, only time will release it, only letting go,
until the first yawn,
until the tension is gone,
for a moment long enough for sleep to slip
back in,
that we might dream again,
and find therein
whatever longing has eluded our waking,
in the lingering
of November.

TS   11/29/17

Too, as in, Also…

from  ‘Gold Mine’

_____this true heart______________

I will write your name on every breath from now until forever, forget you never, know that I have not let go of this true heart. Forgiving you and him and them and everyone, everything, sing ever louder, stronger, taking claim of every wind and every rain, rising up out of every flame until my name escapes your lips in your sleep. And you know that I loved you and I loved him and them and everyone I could and everyone who would take it from me and I have no regrets about that. I have no shame. I am seeds in clouds and dreams about to be born again and I am wishes in the fountain and I am the highest mountain and I am Winter sleeping, teardrops weeping for every soul who never knows what I am talking about. Saints and Sinners, fabulous beginners, I am the echoed call to everyone who has ever fallen, praying, saying, in the deepest dark, get up, get up, get up.

Love is not a withered vine, love is not petals fallen, and longing unfulfilled, and love is not what men have willed, love is everlasting understanding divine and mine, oh mine, love is mine, to keep. Rainbows, unicorns, candy cane and fairy tales, artifice too soon to fail. They tell you that you have to sacrifice all to scale the castle wall and I say to you that all you have to do is be true, be true. Let go of all the hatred in your heart, let go of all ill wishes, let go of vengeance, you cannot kill Angels with it. Gossamer is fireproof and Angels own the ceiling that is the sky and everything beyond the dawn and everything you wonder on and everything you think is gone they carry with them in the folds of feathers blue and they do remember you, they do.

I will write your name on every page and wash away your hurt and rage and wash away your ache and heal the scars on your heart you thought were permanent and the ones even you had forgotten in the burden of flesh, until you believe again, in everything you let go of to leave me.

You think you want to hear my battle cry, that it will crack the Heavens, flash like lightning, pound like thunder, but I tell you that my battle cry sounds like children laughing and wedding vows, those kept, and those broken, and waterfalls, and crowds cheering at a home run, my battle cry is every Spring, every green thing that makes it through the snow, my battle cry is the song that makes you sing even though you don’t want to and the Hallmark commercial that makes you call your mother, my battle cry is the smell of roses on the breeze and fireflies in the night, racing to the stars, my battle cry is everything we are and trade for things that do not matter. My battle cry is restoration, resurrection and everlasting, surging out into the farthest reaches of the Universe, there is life here.

I will write your name on every breath from now until forever, because if all of this suffering was somehow right, to anyone, then there can be no end to the love that is needed to heal and it will start with me. And someday, maybe, we can talk about bravery and change and freedom. Freedom, that I’ve paid for in some way every time I’ve exercised it. I will love you in every word, every ache, in every break, in every breath and everything that I can, and hope and pray someday, you understand me, and you.

(Written 2009)

 

Psalm

Lead us into hands

That will care for us and keep us safe

Onto paths that know the way,

When we are lost and cannot find it on our own,

Keep us in the light,

Or light the dark we wander in

Enough to see,

Save our souls from lingering

Too long in places where we shouldn’t be,

If it were possible to be such places,

bring us back

From edges we’ve been lured to

From lies we hoped too long were true,

Open up our eyes that we might see the beauty

Of the heart

Broken down the middle clean

Stripped of artifice, laid bare and lean,

Exposed in sentience for a world to better know

The soul that dwells within

Lend us the courage to grasp

Whatever threads are left to us,

Of gossamer, of silver fine, quick spun,

A life of shadow finally in the sun,

Each of us a part of One,

Returning to the source,

Let us hope and hope to find,

The bitter root can still be sweet,

In memories of better dreams to keep.

 

Teri Skultety

Letting Go of the Tiger’s Tail

If you’ve got the tiger by the tail, then doesn’t the tiger have you as well?

I thought something was hanging onto me, that I couldn’t shake loose. That could be, but it could also be that I was holding onto whatever it was.  So, I’m going to let go of it, and see what happens. That sounds vague, though really the specifics of it only matter to me.  Suffice it to say that it seemed like the same thing kept happening over and over again and it finally occurred to me to ask myself what my part in that was. Authors, writers, can fall into repeating a plot, different story, same plot, which is why I ultimately gave myself permission not to write a sequel to the vampire novel, at least not anytime soon. Sometimes, too, it can be a case of there’s a story to tell there, but it just isn’t quite time to tell it. Whatever the metaphor, sometimes we think we’ve got the tiger by the tail and really, it’s taking us for a ride.

I finished the first draft of “All the Bright Young Things at the Last Picture Show.” I’m working on “Gold Mine.” I’ve started a couple of other projects. I wrote a post earlier and I wasn’t happy with it. It wasn’t what I wanted to say. What I wanted to say was that I’m tired. I’m feeling not a little world weary. I’m sure I’m not the only person feeling that way these days or lately. That got me to thinking, when was the last time that I was feeling really good? It was when we were on our way home from several days on the coast. I was tired when we got home and, I’m still tired. Some of my activities this Summer resulted in minor injuries. I’m taking my vitamins. I’ve published five books in the last year, that’s a lot. I’ve a tendency to push myself too hard because I don’t take for granted being able to do things. I have to remind myself to really rest, so I don’t burn out, and before I don’t have a choice about it. Balance. That being said, I decided to do something artsy with this picture of an old X-ray of my hand and the fused bones in my wrist, because I thought it would look cool.

I call it, “The Hand.”

This year has flown by, and this month seemed to evaporate in a blink. We had a big Summer, generally good, but I am looking forward to the Fall season. It was one hundred and six degrees here today. I will enjoy what is left of the Summer, but I am always looking forward to cooler weather, the crunch of leaves, cinnamon spiced cider, the rain, all those kinds of things. I’m looking forward to the Fall and Winter holidays. Something feels different, as in, changed, and I haven’t quite put my finger on what it is yet. I think the only thing I really miss at the end of each Summer, is those extra hours of daylight.

I’m hoping to get another book out the door and into your hands before this year is over, we’ll see how it goes.

TS

On my way somewhere, I imagine.

It Is Still Beautiful. Chris Cornell.

Grunge is the music that my generation created, whether the label of “grunge” is one that was met with approval or acceptance or not. Passionately philosophically divested in many ways from the heavy metal and “pretty” hair bands and glam bands of the heyday of “sex, drugs, and rock and roll” of previous generations, the “heavy” in “Grunge” was born not only of a complete love of music, but of an emotional intensity extracted from a dissatisfied, sometimes bored, sometimes angry, raw, emotion, that infested not only the musical content itself, but the lyrics, which range from the poignantly poetic, the depressed and angry, to the sarcastic and sardonic, to the socially aware. Drawing on influences from both the punk sound and the likes of Black Sabbath, Grunge was music that was, and is, awake. Grunge said that whatever propaganda it was that the world was selling, they weren’t buying it, because it “Smells Like Teen Spirit.”

“People were wearing flannel here long before grunge came out. It’s cold here. It’s a cheap and effective clothing apparatus for living in the Northwest. I don’t even associate it with a fashion statement or lack thereof. Eddie Vedder did more for flannel than anybody.” ~ Tad Doyle, from Everybody Loves Our Town: An Oral History of Grunge by Mark Yam

“I think it’s come to mean alternative (grunge) in a way. I saw a grunge compilation album with a picture of a flannel shirt on the cover, and only half the bands were from Seattle. Now it seems like that word embraces anything that’s popular. You can watch a Tony! Toni! Tone! video and most of the people in there are wearing their version of grunge fashion. They look like they’re from Seattle, yet it’s an R&B song. So grunge has become an easy marketing reference, a handle for people who aren’t particularly interested in listening to music or what the bands do.” ~ Chris Cornell, Interview Magazine, 1994

What I remember about the beginnings of the stirrings of grunge, as it filtered down from the Pacific Northwest, was that it was only being played on alternative radio, or college stations. I remember hearing something about “grunge” having some claim on flannel shirt wearing and thermals and thinking, “We wear those here too (when it’s cold), well, some of us.” And no one quite being tuned into the fact that what was happening was a huge shift in our culture, this was music that was counter-culture. This was music that cared so much that it couldn’t care anymore what anyone thought of it.  It was a generation rejecting a post 1980’s pretension that it couldn’t sink its teeth into as any kind of a viable reality, certainly not an affordable one, and what’s more, it didn’t want to. “Grunge” didn’t want to be labeled as anything other than music. It took the garage band to the warehouse and then on to the stadium. It wasn’t stoner-hippie music, it was “damn the man” music coming from my generation, a generation that wasn’t sure it was ready for that when only moments before we’d been tuned into Miami Vice, Magnum P.I., and Family Ties. Nirvana’s “Nevermind,” and Pearl Jam’s “Ten,” broke in 1991, and so did Soundgarden’s “Badmotofinger,” and the tribute album, “Temple of the Dog.” While Nirvana and Pearl Jam stormed the airways into the mainstream with big hits there was something different about the voice of Chris Cornell, from the very beginning. This wasn’t music that was just willing to be dark, this was music that had jumped headlong into the primordial muck to mosh and try to body-surf through the ages. Balls to the wall, Grunge was the ultimate trust-fall. The song that stuck with me, that still stays with me from that time, that I’ve many a night before dinner said/sung, “Well, it’s on the table…” is Temple of the Dog’s, “Hunger Strike.” Then there was “Outshined,” with heavy lines that sound like a dirge and then it melodically takes flight, “it gives me the butterflies…” and traverses the depths again just as quickly.

The soulful anguish, the raw ache, the depth of emotion of Chris Cornell’s voice is at the beginnings of a musical revolution. If Kurt Cobain burned out, and Eddie Vedder became, to some, something of a musical statesman, if Dave Grohl became the embodiment of no-nonsense getting up and getting on with it while still having a good time, Chris Cornell became the poet laureate of grunge. To say now that some of his lyrics are haunting is obvious and redundant, his lyrics and vocals were always haunting.

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“I’m not a lyric writer to make statements. What I enjoy doing is making paintings with lyrics, creating colorful images. I think that’s more what music and entertainment should be.” ~ Chris Cornell

Is fifty-two years old, young? Is fifty-two years old, old?

Fifty-two years old is a person in my peer group, completely my generation. Chris Cornell had gotten sober. I’ve noticed lately that’s kind of a thing with my generation, if you’re of my generation and you partied as a teenager, or in your twenties, drank your way through your thirties, at some point in your forties, you run up against sobriety. In the 80’s we used to sometimes jokingly say, for one reason or another, “It was all the drugs I did in the 60’s.” even though, or because, that’s when we were born. Now, as middle-aged adults, we can say, “Well, it was the 80’s” and that passes as a cultural definition of excess. Grunge was the antidote for the 80’s, a coming of age emotional release, that for many of my generation has ultimately given way to sobriety becoming its own kind of rebellion. I think my generation fluctuates between, “The Power of Positive Thinking,” and “This World Is Hard, Don’t Bullshit Me.” Does it ever turn out the way that any generation thinks that it will? I’m finding my peace through the acceptance of this world is hard, but it is still beautiful.

I’m upset about the death of Chris Cornell in a way that I can’t quite explain. I think that I’ve listened to “I am the Highway” about I don’t even know how many times now, I love that song. I’m looking at the world starkly, that’s what works for me, I’m not a puppies and kittens and rainbows kind of gal, I’m the other side of that coin, even though I am certainly a romantic. The world needs both, balance. But I’m thinking about that too, the world, and what are any of us doing here. Earlier today, I saw a news story about how Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson is flattered by those who think he really should run for president, how “popular” an idea that is to some, and that he, The Rock, told GQ magazine that a bid for the White House is “A real possibility.” I don’t think that’s even the least bit funny or amusing. I thought it was deep down sad that that is where the mindset of anyone in this country is at, not that former actors haven’t taken up political office before, and not that I don’t like The Rock, as an actor, and hey, he might even be great at being president if that were to happen, but it’s this idea that celebrity, that “popularity,” rules the day. It’s boneheaded. I was thinking about how, in the same interview from 1994 where Chris Cornell talked about how you could watch a Tony! Toni! Tone! video and see a grunge fashion statement, Kim Thayil said that they had taken to avoiding wearing flannel in order to try to help distance themselves from what had become cliché, because it had become popular in the mainstream. What was the very antithesis of fashion, became fashion, and then the people for whom it was a usual mode of dress, they abandoned it, I was thinking how messed up that is. I was thinking that it’s awful that not even six months into the current administration the fighting between political parties has reached epic proportions and it is beyond pathetic to the point of being ludicrous. Everyone has an opinion, including me, and I thought, that’s it, this is it, the exact moment when I ceased to engage in political discourse, the moment when I heard that The Rock was seriously considering a run at the White House. I thought of the movie “Idiocracy” and of Flint, Michigan, and Brawndo, it’s popular, it’s what plants crave. Everyone seems to be feeling instead of THINKING. Has the world always been this crazy? Has the world always been this dumb? I think, it’s important to remember to find healthy ways to keep from feeling overwhelmed and to disengage from the din.

The last thing that I read about the death of Chris Cornell was that he may have taken an extra Ativan or two. ( Rolling Stone.) Ativan is used to treat anxiety. You never know what someone else is going through. Addiction is a big demon. You think, the guy had everything. But there’s no judging that, for anyone, what is everything? I think, am of a mind, to say, stick around, fight, see what happens, to hell with ’em! But there’s no judging that for anyone either. I don’t want to descend into a discourse on battling dark times, just, there’s no judging what it’s like for any other human who isn’t feeling great or well or thinking clearly. Reports of his last show in Detroit have been that something wasn’t quite right with him. I haven’t watched the concert footage and don’t know if I will. I thought about, wondered about, how far away do those guys get from where they started? How far away does anyone get from who they began as, if they get where they think they wanted to go? It seemed to me that Chris Cornell stayed pretty true.

I made up my mind not to watch anymore news today, I don’t know if I’ll watch any tomorrow either. Am I obligated to? Am I obligated to pay attention to the mess or to be a voice for anything? I straightened up my house, did laundry, made some food. I looked at a catalog, thought about ways to decorate, about how much I like flannel shirts and don’t give a flying fig if they’re fashionable or not, ever. I thought about the irony of the fact that the renaissance of coffee-house culture was spawned at the birth of grunge, the Seattle Sound, and how that gave way to the very corporate Starbucks, something that is the antithesis of everything grunge was about. Grunge, though, outgrew the label, the terminology, and grew into itself from those roots, the bands and musicians that emerged from that era, are the creators of the musical landscape of my generation. I gathered up some cd’s, made a plate of chicken and rice and sat down to write something about it all.

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Chris Cornell’s music has seen me through many a long night writing, and, providing that I have anything to say about it, it will see me through many more seasons to come. An important artistic voice of my generation, a musician, a poet, a soulful singing prince with an intense Jesus gaze and flowing locks, an originator and innovator, of not only musical change but of a cultural shift in awareness, Chris Cornell left us with many gifts, he will be missed. The world is a hard place, but it is still beautiful.

Carry on, my friends. Get up. Go on.

Teri

The Promise Lyrics

If I had nothing to my name
But photographs of you
Rescued from the flames
That is all I would ever need
As long as I can read
What’s written on your face
The strength that shines
Behind your eyes
The hope and light
That will never die

And one promise you made
one promise that always remains
No matter the price
A promise to survive
Persevere and thrive
As we’ve always done

And you said
“The poison in a kiss
Is the lie upon the lips”
Truer words were never shared
When I feel
Like lies are all I hear
I pull my memories near
The one thing they can’t take

And one promise you made
one promise that always remains
No matter the price
A promise to survive
Persevere and thrive
As you’ve always done

The books still open
on the table
The bells still ringing
in the air
The dreams still clinging
to the pillow
The songs still singing
in a prayer

Now my soul
Is stretching through the roots
To memories of you
Back through time and space
To carry home
the faces and the names
And these photographs of you
Rescued from the flames

And one promise you made
one promise that always remains
No matter the price
A promise to survive
Persevere and thrive
And dare to rise once more
A promise to survive
Persevere and thrive
And fill the world with life
As we’ve always done

Quotes from Chris Cornell.

Believing Again, II.

This will be the first of two posts today.

The last few years, as previously mentioned, have been not a little challenging. I made up my mind a long time ago to let the challenging times, that’s a nicer way of saying the bad times or the hard times, make me a better person, not a bitter one. I wasn’t ever a person to hang onto a hurt. I’d acknowledge it, feel whatever I felt, but I’d move on from that sort of thing pretty quickly because hanging onto it, that keeps you stuck. It’s taken me a while to understand why I was hanging onto some hurts, how that happened, how I got into a mindset that was taking me down the lonely road to bitterness! That’s an actual road. Some of it had to do with unrealistic expectations, of myself, of other people, and of life. We’ve been through some tough times, trying times. But, those unrealistic expectations I had, they existed because I didn’t realize how hurt, and scared, I already was, that there were some hurts that I really hadn’t let go of or even understood yet, and that I was carrying that with me, and then trying to create, hoping and expecting to create, a “perfect world” in which no more hurt could ever occur or happen to me again, where everyone always behaved properly, never took advantage, appreciated things accordingly, had the proper amount of respect for things that are sacred to most everyone, home, marriage, children, livelihood or one’s work, personal property that was worked very hard for, personal privacy, and so on, the things that you would think that everyone takes seriously, and wants respected. For many years I was also very protective and private because of certain situations in my life that have since resolved themselves in one way or another, some things run their course. In other words, I wasn’t actually closed off, but, being a mature person who is also a mother, well, it wasn’t all just about me, not ever. I had very definite ideas about parenting my child and how to conduct that. If other people didn’t agree with, or understand those things, decisions, that is something I will never be sorry for. There were also Norman Rockwell type holiday family dinners involved in those expectations, ideas, or imaginings, where no one took sideswipes at anyone else, ever, everyone loved and appreciated one another, friends were exceedingly loyal to a fault, the bird was never too dry, and certainly, no one was ever trying to turn everything into a joke, or telling you to lighten up because you were so wanting this fairy-tale, this unshattered dream, no one was ever fighting or passing out in the Azaleas, breaking grandma’s swan that’s been on the mantel for years, and so on. That isn’t even including all of the things in life that there’s no way to plan for and that you never see coming, like illness. And every time a new “betrayal” or hurt happened to me, or in my world, my world shrank. It’s one of those things where it’s a self-protective kind of a mechanism, because a person doesn’t want to be hurt anymore, or simply can’t absorb another hurt, but it ends up having the opposite effect at some point, and it ends up being hell on everyone around, and hurting others, because people are only perfectly imperfect.

It gets to be hell because there’s no way to make it perfect. There’s no perfect thing that if it was just this thing then it would all be all right or all right again. Then its walking on eggshells over everything, because still hanging onto some hurt. You can be protective of something into oblivion. Sometimes people are so afraid of something being taken away from them that they’ll destroy it from the inside out without meaning to. Sometimes, when you have something really good, it can be difficult not to be afraid. And then how do you trust something good again after a difficult time?

Closing oneself off from life, from the world, however, because other people have hurt you, isn’t the answer. It’s kind of a strange thing for me to say because it’s obviously something I’m pretty well versed in, but, life is often quite messy. Therein, too, has been some of the issue, because I’ve been one of those people who has tended to think that life is messy because people are messy, so, don’t be messy. Again, unrealistic expectations, in general, I’ve been messy too sometimes. The thing is, that sort of thing can be contagious, etc. and so on. Would the perfect world be the one with no other people in it? Adam and Eve alone together in the Garden, without the interference of the devil? Would it be Henry Bemis, “Time Enough at Last” in The Twilight Zone, with an unbroke pair of glasses and all of those books? Would the perfect world be the one with not that many other people around? It often happens that people get to feeling that way and they go off to live places where there aren’t quite so many other people, and, there’s something to be said for that in some regard. But, even in places where there’s only say, a hundred people, percentage wise, there’s still going to be those one or two jerks.

“Before you diagnose yourself with depression or low self-esteem, be sure you’re not surrounded by assholes.”   ~ quote usually attributed to William Gibson

People, can be baffling. But, if you’re closing yourself off, don’t expect the world to miss you, to care, or even to understand it.

However, if you’re closing yourself off from the world to the point where you’re not doing things that you want to do, well, then you’re the one who is missing out on your own life. I wasn’t a closed off, fearful person, far from it, I was the exact opposite of fearful and closed off,  but I did become that way. I’m also the only person who can fix that. That’s really important to accept responsibility for. I am the only person who can fix it. Like quitting drinking, taking better care of myself, it’s something that I’m looking at and wondering, when did this happen? How did this happen? I was never this closed-off, fearful person. I am the only person who can fix it. People will always be people. The world will always be the world. There’s a lot of good out there too. I am, once again, making the conscious choice to let it make me better, not bitter, and live.

Teri

 

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That one Twilight Zone episode where…

Coming soon…Red Line Wine

 

I’m working on the final poems in a collection or poetry and prose titled, Red Line Wine, that I first put together in 1996. These are the poems and prose of my youth, of first love, of heartbreak, of dreams, homesickness, longing, of hope, and believing that anything is possible. I’ll have a little more to say about this work when the time comes, for now, I put together a book trailer for Red Line Wine, using one of poems from the collection, “The Knights of Stolen Roses.”

I hope that you enjoy it!

Teri Skultety

 


THE KNIGHTS OF STOLEN ROSES

Locked within the walls of the past, 
The shadows and secrets of living too fast,
the memories bond the quiet heart,
to the moments when the Knights did part...

From the Top of the World the sun slid down,
Darkness descended on the Court Jester Clown,
Tinker Town in silence, forever fog bound,
Distant trains and the haunted sound,

The souls of seventeenth Summers,
the beats of distant drummers,
the heroes of war, or simply romance,
for those who dared to take a chance,

The midnight moon and shooting star,
knowing when to push it too far,
armored machines of lightning speed,
testing the limit when feeling the need,

Heart beating fast, living to tell,
the days when Knights were raising Hell,
A sweet little princess, and maybe, she might,
Roses you steal in becoming a Knight.

Trust was shared and rarely spoken,
A promise made was rarely broken,
Reaching for that shining brass,
Good and Evil, through the looking glass.

Dreaming of their future days,
When Knights must go their separate ways,
Only to dream of going home again,
For boyhood Knights, make the strongest men.

...A shade, or two, will always remain,
By which to know a loss, or count a gain,
Fiery Red and Forever Blue,
In everything you say and do.

Much more than medieval fantasy,
they wrote their own codes of nobility,
Knighted, by their own free will.
Is the Knight within you living still?

Teri Skultety
Originally composed, March 25, 1987