Let your tale, be poured into my ears

My friends, I humbly ask for you to consider the following notions, before you release the swarm.  In conversation, with other human beings that inhabit this world, please entertain the idea that their story doesn’t match yours.  All people, perhaps, have unique back stories, that may identify them, haunt them, or inspire them. The fibrous stands of time are woven together for us all over years and years of experiences.  Yet, the patterns, shapes, and perspectives are vastly different.  Some fabric is cut, some are burned, some have vibrant stories and colors, some depict great tragedies.  Words are not defined by your strings, but by theirs.  Father, may be a word that is equal to the devil.  Mother may mean perpetual anger and criticism.  Please dear friends, I beg you to pause, and allow rumination to take your thoughts on a flight.  High above your own city and town, where events that have happened to you are lost, and the vast landscapes of another person unfold below you.  Become the Hawk, high in the cool breeze, seeking to capture their story, hiding in the rocks.  Swoop down, and consume their tale.  Live, with them in their moment of storytelling.  Listen, learn, and most importantly, love.

 Take the institution of marriage.  Why, to me, it is a fine thing.  My parents stayed married their whole life, as did my wife’s parents.  I watched them endure mighty storms, but they were as steadfast as a rocky shore.  My tale, is my tale.  Other souls may have the word marriage fall upon their ears as a ball of thorns beings pushed into their heart with a glowing orange iron from the fire.  A man may have used his might and authority to foul innocence.  A woman may insult a child because they remind her of the man who failed, and left her alone.  There are thousands and thousands of stories.  Consider, listening.  Discover what life is to someone else.

The swarm of your words, waits like an army.  As the ruler you choose what to arm them with, when you unleash them into conversation.  Will you attack in foolishness, or will you send an unarmed scout, with ready pen and blank page to learn the tale of life, from another.

My friends, please consider carefully concerning the swarm.  For if you attack, for the sake of yourself, you will become a defined agent of pain, and burn another thread of time black before it is sewn permanent into the tapestry of someone else’s life.

Copyright © 2017 Zachary W Gilbert


Dear Writer…

Craft for me a tale, dear writer.  Craft for me a tale.

Within title, I require enticement.

Upon the first sentence, our relationship, as reader, and writer, hangs upon a thin silky spider web…

At this crossroads, many books die, soon after they are born.

More dust than readers, are captured in the cool night air, on lonely metal shelves, fat with static inventory.  Waxy covers hold tight, to pages that will never feel the caress of a reader.  Chapters are entombed, hungry for eyes, minds, and hearts.  They starve, in silence.  Pages suffocated from wine spills, coffee stains, and greasy fingers, they long to be touched, and turned.

And yet…  you are strong, and wise dear writer.  Your tale may yet live!  Now, craft for me a paragraph!

Ahh yes!  The first two trials, dear writer, you have conquered well.  Now, the true test begins.  Fortify my conquered heart.  Your won battle, can become of lost war, if the first paragraph is stale.   I am interested, I am engaged, I suddenly care, like rose petals reaching for warm morning sunlight.

Chapter 1 falls valiantly under my sharpened eye.  The smell of new paper, slimy wax, and fresh ink fill the air.  My mind is fed, and fed well.  You have given me power in our journey, I suspect, I wonder, I want more.  Have you heard the term, “Harry the explainer?” Well, that is certainly not you, my new writer friend.  Not you at all.  I shout, “Well done!”  Everyone in the coffee shop gives me a funny look.  I hold your creation high.  Look upon this book that has enticed my outburst.  Look upon it well, for you should read it too!   Bravo, you have respected me, your reader with polished and refined word play.  You know your craft…

Onward writer!  Craft for me a tale!  Soon you will win the war, and I shall sing of your tale, to other hearts, that are hungry, for you dear writer, to consume your crafted tale…


2017 © Zachary W Gilbert