There are reoccurring visions i see, misty as in a dream.
There is no sound, just the moving movie like actions.
One is, i am stating on the fore of the Viking ship, with sword upraised, ready to lead a screaming wave of Viking Warriors, up the beach to some monastery, or town, the ship is going straight like an arrow at the beach.
It never deviates, it is a memory which transcends many lives.
There is in me the longing for the far, high places, where one communes with nature, the solitude of the desert breezes, the salty fish ocean smell which comes near land, which tells the sailor his journey is near done.
There is the longing for that which has been, and still is in crevices of my mind.
There is the memory of crossing a river, outwardly showing confident to my men, but inside, the cold fear of what i dared do, griped my gut.
There is a memory, of riding my horse into a cut, a wagon road or track.
The fire comes from concealment to the woods to my left.
And all goes dark.
The Pain of thousands of lives, the struggles, the mistakes, the death, the horror of war after war after war.
A few memories bleed through the veil of time, like ghost calling for justice, like advice from past lives, a helping hand in this one.
Friend who is Scots Irish, recommended a book, cause i carry the Scots Irish blood, ‘Born Fighting’.
It talks of the fortitude of the Scots Irish, pressing on when others would not, into wild country, new frontiers.
It quoted :
The Cowards never started,
The Weak died along the way,
The strong survived.
The old places, call to me from centuries past, memories of a women i loved more than life itself, without a face, without a name, without a country.
May i bring no shame to those who lived, so i could live now, as well as those who’s footprints i follow, as a pilgrim, searching for the source of the Light!
Let it be Above,as it is Below!
John C Carleton