Ghost Torch: Horse: Quiet Storm

When I was a baby I was sleeping in the night.. The indian chief walked into my tent to give me a name.. he then saw a torch floating over me. It was as if a ghost was watching over me holding a torch.. From that day forward I was known as Ghost Torch.. I was taken away from my tribe at a very young age.. I do not know what type of indian I am.. This is my first entry into the Hyperion Archive.. I am 2 of 4 in this world.. I hunt the Nightmare storms that walk this Earth..

Day 1, Year 1889, Month 10..

Weapons: Composite Long bow:
Helios Transformation: Lightning Phoenix Long bow wave series S.AWAY

Rogers Lason: Horse: Shy Raven..
At long last I can be at peace.. And my peace is not having peace.. I hunt this side of the world as 1 of 4.. I have not run into any of the other 3.. I must say, they must have something in common to me.. Reguardless, I will hunt the hellshadow.. Thats what I call them.. I have become part of an order that has hunted these nightmares throughout the ages.. This is my first entry into the Hyperion Archive..

Day 1, Year 1889, Month 10..

Weapons: 2x U.S. Revolver, Caliber .38, M1892
Helios transformmation
2X U.S. Revolver, Hyper automatic Leviathan wave series S.AWAY..

If trees be poems by the earth
In avid joy I read each one
Florets writ in fragrant verse
Inked with beams of the morning sun
In shade, a fruit, a whiff of air
I rest beneath wide branches spread
A cavort of emerald canopy
Bestows comfort upon my breath
I lean against the bark, recline
And think of how it stands in time

Through tunneled years it's stoic trunk
Stands proud against frost and rain
Drops it's leaves to nakedness
Till spring dresses in green again  
On but an arm, the  koel sings
'Tis home to birds that weave a nest
Haven to sojourners ache
Clasp around, hold close to breast
I trace the names of love engraved
Now forgot; asleep in graves

On felled bark my soul I pen
On papyrus the past I feel
The murmured songs of sentiments
In susurrus as branches kneel.
Nymphs would hide or fairies entreat
With fireflies in silver light
Creatures tip toe on their feet
Lithe, in the darkness of the night
In engraved lines meaning I see
What better song, what poetree?



Trees are poems that the earth writes upon the sky -  Gibran

At last the sky.   Was this the end?  Did we make it.  There was a glowing haze among the air and sky.  It was if as the colors of my dreams slowly rained down on reality.    There were butterflies made of fire fluttering by.  All we could do is walk forward.  Through the haze we walked on through.  The more steps we took the brighter the haze got.  There was now no ground beneath us. Every step we took left behind ripples of blue light.  The stars were now around us.  Feathers made of sunlight were fallen around us.  And then we heard a strange song.  There were Angels every where!  All of them holding strange instruments.  They created a sound like no other.   We were lost in this song of the angels.  But these were no angels!  They were previous heroes lost in the maze!  Lost in this wicked haze!  Turns out we are halfway through the maze! We most go on!

On a boardwalk across the universe I meet with her.  For the first time and last.  I could not think of anything to say to her.  I just listen to what she has to say instead.  Her light skin and firey brown eyes warm the cold night around me.  She sips a star rain under the dim lights.  And then she smiles.  The perfect moment.  All the stars seem to fall from the sky.  The sky is full of infinite wishes.  But she is still smiling.  Nothing compares to that view.  Not even a sky full of falling stars and wishes.

There was this light.  It shined from all around.  Was this the end? Am I dead? Am I falling or rising.  I could not tell.  

Turns out I am floating.  I can't see my hands in front of me.  Its to bright.  Then I realise that there are no shadows.  No darkness whatsoever.  Only light.

Its an endless expanse of shine.  There is a oneness without loneliness.  And then my memories come back to me..

The light begins to dim and many colors begin to show themselves.  I then see pictures and finally myself.

I then view my death.  And the ripple it creates across the universe.
I have become a star in an elsewhere without any.

I will begin the new day.

smoke catching the back of your throat
me with my tea and you with your coat
a sleepy town in a valley of clouds
up here, you can hear every sound
blissful happiness
contented-ness

And I open my eyes.  In a deep sleep I was.  Voices woke me up.  Sounds a lot like there is a t.v on in another room.  I could hear all sorts of different voices speaking.  I focus for a moment and listen.  There are so many.  I cannot make out what they are saying.  I then sit up in my bed and the voices stop! All at once.  Was I dreaming?  I lay my head back down on my pillow and hear nothing but my own heartbeat.  I then turn on my left side.  My ear folds in such a way that the voices come back!  What am I hearing!?  Where is it coming from?  The voices are quite beautiful.  I think it is a mixture of some form of acoustics that seem to travel in a time stream. Going either forward or backwords.  This chaos of voices cascades only on the folded ear.