Previous Scribble:
June 8, 1998
Be warned, my words may seem strange to those who've not been touched by the true magic of word-wielding and have not been left to suffer the throes of its spell. Be warned, these words come from the mind of one who is still spellbound.
I'll let you in on a secret-that-is-not: we have sorcerers and sorceress in our midsts. And their enchantment reaches deep. They take an age-old power that dates back farther than most of us can imagine. A sort of magic has been touched by even the divine, for this craft has the means to touch hearts, touch minds and bend them. To create realities that traps us or frees us. What strange and amazing workings these are. But I wonder which is stranger, this art or the way we succumb to it if we so choose.
But I pity the man or woman who has not be touched and marked. And I grieve for the child who has not yet been embraced by the enchantment. What hollowness they must bear. How narrow and how un-colored their worlds must be. And I'm torned between disbelief, anger and bewilderment for those who have been touched, but bears the eyes that do not see. What renders them blind, I wonder?
And I stand in awe at the masters of the craft. These true magicians who walk among us. But with a skill and gift bestowed upon a chosen few, they weave the most intricate spells. And I wonder if they stand victim to their own doing... for surely this magic is far more, greater than they.
And like a child who dreams, I can only dream that one day I may weave detailed tapestries of thought that would wrap the soul within its folds. And though, now that I am older, not wise, but perhaps less naive, I know that many fail the many trials. But I speak sincerely when I say I hope that my fellow dreamers not lose sight of their sorcerers, spells, dragons and unicorns. May the dream always be kept alive...until one among us is initiated to join the grand company of the word-wielders.
Until then.
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