History's LamentSymbols painted on the walls of caves; hunts remembered, seasons recalled.Lines etched into baked clay; stories told, legends preserved.Pen and ink make knowledge spread; laws for all to see, wisdom passed form age to age.What went before could be known; lessons could be learned.Eyes in the present now so blind to the past; ignorant of mistakes once made.Those who remember shout their warning; unhearing, youth charges forward into the black.The elders who lived and struggled point to the path; the young go astray.What is past is not prologue; it is now and it is later.Oh, what folly it is to forget; effort, pain and sacrifice go to waste.Lament that fools do not know; what was is, and again will be.
That Which Endures.I started playing RPGs in my sophomore year in high school. Two buddies, who were and are, my two closest friends (more like brothers really) had tried to get me to play D&D for a long while but, because of my rather strict religious upbringing, the idea of magic, swords, and sorcery caused me not a little trepidation. Besides, I was a hard-core sci-fi fan, and unicorns and faeries seemed passé. The three of us would hang out, but I resisted their attempts to make a dungeon-crawler out of me.Then, during lunch at our high school's cafeteria one day, my buddies were working on their "Traveler" campaign. I looked down at the already use-worn game-book on the cafeteria table and saw pictures of various weapons on the pages. Swords were one thing, but guns (the greatest invention ever!) were another. "That looks like a Walther PPK" I said, pointing down at drawing of 'body pistol,' as it was known in the game. Reading the description of the body pistol out-loud, one of my
AcceptIt begins when a teacher tells us where to sit and when to speak.We accept.Then, as teenagers, we are defined by others; identified by clique or class.We accept.We find work and regimentation; our time is not our own, nor is our mind.We accept.Taxes come from our toil; governments weigh on our shoulders but they care not.We accept.They see and hear us all; to them everything must be known.We accept.Freedom shrinks; commandments from white towers for every thought and deed.We accept.The chains are not heavy once one has worn them for years; slavery of the mind worse than of the body.You accept.Conditioned to obey, you no longer think; trapped in waking sleep.You accept.You no longer live, but simply exist; physicality your prison.You accept.Broken, you find comfort in conformity; safety in ignorance.You accept.Beaten, you dare not raise our eyes; or your voice.You accept that you must accept.