Monday, April 25, 2016

Novel Walk of Fire

Walk of Fire

Take a walk of fire, feel my pain. 
On a walk of fire, get inside my brain.
This walk of fire, proves life’s no game.
Can you walk through fire, won’t be the same.
Will you walk through fire, or steal the rain?
Some won’t walk through fire, despite the gain.
I have walked through fire and felt the strain.
Shall we walk through fire or in sloth remain?
Try to walk through fire and then call my name.
If you can walk through fire will you still be sane?
It’s hard to walk through fire, stay straight on aim.
You need to walk through fire, let your fear be slain.
Do you feel the fire or only shame?
Try to light the fire and burning embers tame.
I feel the fire, not to complain.
Alive into the fire, a negative refrain.
Passion is the fire, flowing through my veins.
I see your face, I’m so glad you came.
To fan the fire, love things mundane.
Above all respect the fire, and doubts restrain.

This novel was my first. Somewhere in my junk I have 120 hand written pages of the opening chapter, I had played with the idea of writing another one, The Park, which I did later write, but this one, Walk of Fire, it was a personal epic tale of a fictional young man faced with numerous challenges that I echoed in my life in some ways after the accident where I was damn near dead in the blink of an eye. Just last night, a woman, a year younger than I, lost her life. Out riding on her husband's bike she and a 22 year old lost their lives. Truly sad, people die daily on bikes daily. I left part of my body on Drew Street, in Clearwater, pints of it. Such trauma changes things.

Having a child also changes thing, meaning your overall perspective on living. I feel I can through my mother's creative eyes and collective experience imparted to me, as was my dear deceased Dad, Bede. He knew I wanted to write, and he tried over the decades as my dad, to truly broaden my horizon aesthetically with every opportunity. The wonderful artist, who tried to recreate the lost formula of the paints of the masters like Van Gough, Rembrandt Ruebens and others. He was a great step father, and I thank God & the universe he lived to see my son taking his first steps. That he did is a great comfort to me.

This novel in a way is a gesture about my life, but with a male point of view as I predicted it would be as a disabled, one legged bipolar wanna be poser author, I welcome your comments on this work here on my blog. I held out hope for over a decade that I'd get my wits together and try again, for what would be a third time around sending out letters to potential agents and seek representation for trying to get legitimately published in one of the big houses. I no longer feel any need to do such a thing. My reason for sharing this is because I think fiction painting an accurate portrait of one person's coping with a traumatic physical disabling condition is very important. My fiction mostly has disabled characters, all but The Park have disabled protagonists.

If you like what you see, and you want to see more, please let me know, comment. Send me an email if you'd rather comment privately. But if you enjoyed what you'll read here, all I want in return is for you to smile with me. Nod to me that you read it, that you liked it. And maybe I'll give you all something else, something different, darker. Two Wrongs Make a Light. An exotic dancer, single mother of a 3 month old; her story begins in the Clerk of the Courts office. It's a darker tale, about domestic abuse, and the way even though, being abused, is bad, and abusing someone is bad, one thing good can come from such things, if only you can see it in time and make radical changes in order to protect the only light that can come from such a negative relationship. If you want to experience Rhonda's tale, let me know. I'll have to read it over deeper, the version here of Walk of fire on this blog, is the original length story. I hope you all enjoy it. Walk of Fire (pdf) and your visit with a character I created, Nick Andrews and his struggle to find inner peace.

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