Time Got Away (bridges series inspired)

                  Xaviar knew that it was true, that Time had indeed Escaped him.

His arduous Journey started a year on an eon ago  (time had little meaning for him these days, if the truth be told) and Now it had come to and End. 

Days turned to years turned to millenia, he cared not, for he was Sir Xaviar Stefan De La Perrera, and he was a man of his word.

He made a vow to his dying Madre’ that he would find the Golden Ones for her, that their Kingdom still reigned, that all she was told was Nothing more than a myth fabricated to scare small children, because he would make it on Time, and he would sing a love song to the broken soul, and Time would be healed.

“Then go my Son, I will wait for you”.. His last memory of her, She waited but a Moment after he had gone. 

 The Kingdom of Time, a city of molten gold and silver winds and endless halls of everythings, broken and in ruins. He ran and ran searching for the Untruth, but the Truth was Everywhere.  Monoliths split in two, bricks and marble and beauty untold scattered, discarded, abandoned.

His Mother was correct, the Broken One had stopped Time, the Kingdom was gone, his Queen was gone, all was Gone.

                          ~    A man finds Grace

                                      when there are No more gods to Rage at, 

                                                   when there is No Thing left to Blame,

                                                                   when All Hope is Extinguished,

                                                                             when Journey’s End is Defeat,

                                                                                                      because None had Ever lied. ~

With a calm serenity Sir Xaviar bent a knee, bowed his head, (I’m sorry Mamma) and shed one tear.

He tilted his head to keep the tear, if it did not escape maybe he could keep her for..

 There She was! The Golden One called YehVaughn de Quine`, sitting in the chair to the left,

 and the chair to the right,  The Damaged One, Elleeraya Corallea`,

but she was Not Broken

                             She sparkled Gold as the two women laughed or spoke about?

He knew not, but he heard the Note.

 The Octave so High it is almost unheard to the untrained ear, the lower notes come with Age.

It was but a Moment lost in Time, when they were both Shining Ones, their Time was Young and Happy.

He blinked and they were gone, they were but ghosts of a dream, a shimmer of a dying hope, the chairs as empty as his soul,                 


 His ear and eye caught them again, over and over, their images branded in every crack, every gap, every Where, the shapes of the chairs themselves. 

They were side by side, but heads turned away,

not as enemies as legends told,

but as warriors and mothers looking where the other could not, protecting. Loving.

His eyes looked to the broken ceiling, what he believed were exposed dead wood beams left behind when the gilded coating collapsed where Now stairs that led Upward,

The deteriorating archways Now the underside of New Bridges,

The very shadows of those objects that survived the quake, Now a New door to

Everywhere and Anywhere that was Golden and Sterling and True.

Sir Stefan bowed in respect to the brilliant shining women of legend,

 “I Thank You, Great Ladies, I have a New journey to begin, please tell My Sweet Mary that her son loves her still, and” he stops as his emotions overtake him, he sheds a tear and releases it, his only offering.

He simply looks to the chairs and nods, he does not see the two shadows soar up and away behind him and that was the intent, nor does he hear their last giggle, it is too high for even his trained ears.

Illyria and Yvonne left a piece of their souls in the very walls and floors of the Halls of Time for this one purpose.

The male decendant of a Great One would hear the Note, and then they could leave these halls for the Evers.

The women had a message to deliver to Maria Majhdoli Perrera; her Son was on his way.

                     On his way to sing a note so High, Angels would fall to their knees from the beauty,

                     On his way to sing a note so low, those Angels would rise up from the pain.

                                                        On his way to becoming the Voice,

                                                                    The Only Voice,

                                                    To soar higher than Time Immeasurable

                                                                      Could Ever ,




                                                          His Voice would surpass Infinity.


 (dedicated to the Truest Love of My Life,  Steve Perry)


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