Shadowlord by David Robison

At the edge of the world, there is a borderland
Where the waters of Time swirl and tumble from now into maybe.
Where the fabric of time is stitched and unstitched
And respun into all that will
And all that won’t.

Here in this threshold realm
Stands a tower of spiraling amethyst and onyx and jasmine mist.
Within those glittering walls of black and not black
There are many halls, many rooms, many ways,
All bound by the laws of maybe, could be, wanna be,
oughta be, gonna be, should be, would be,
Would you, could you
Walk those halls?
And open those doors? Would you dare?

Wandering the contortions of boundless possibility
What would you find?
What horror? What delight?
What dreams could you unlock if you just had the right key to the right door?

May I recommend a guide?

For in this indigo tower at the edge of forever
There is a guardian... a keeper...
A Lord of Shadows

You may call to him and he will hear.
Beckon to him and he may come.
Speak to him and he will listen.
Question him and he may answer.

And when the moon is empty and the sky is full
In those long instants when day slips into night’s embrace
He may speak.

"Non Diem, non noctus, et spiritus Morpheum"

"Welcome," he will say.
"Will you walk with me? I have something to show you."
And you walk with the Shadow Lord through the possible halls
Of the indigo tower at the edge of the world.

Such wonders unfold before you.
From the wide azure sash that wraps about his waist
The Shadow Lord produces key after key
Unlocking door after door.
You’re ushered graciously by your host
Though galleries and gardens, cathedrals and ruins
And at his side you see...

Every statue never sculpted
You hear every poem never written
You witness every drama never played
Every God never worshipped
Every love never kissed
Every dream never dreamed

The delight starts to wear thin
The wonder pales, the magic frays
As you walk the never realms.
Your face is wet, your throat is dry, your hands cold.

"What IS this place," you ask. "What is this tomb, this grave of dreams?"

"Shhhhhhhhh... We’ve arrived. This is what I wanted to show you."

You stand before an enormous door of brass and iron
And carved into the metal
Is your name.

"I have a whole wing dedicated to you. Come."
And he opens the door to your mother’s womb
And you are born.

There you see every toy you never played with.
You witness your first kiss played on a hundred different lips.
There is where you create a work of art
that brings tears to the eyes of all that view it.
There is where you murder your lover.
There is where you discover the cure for disease.
There are all your lovers, all your families, all your children,
All your lives
And all your deaths.

And at the very back of your personal gallery of might have been
and could yet be
There is an empty hall.

"What is this?" you ask.
"You have the rest of your life to live," replies the Shadow Lord.
"A whole life of things you’ll never do."
"NO!" you cry. "I’ll add no more to this... this gallery of the lost,
This morgue of life!"

"Yes. You will. We all do. You know it’s true"
And in your heart, you do.
He’s right.

"Would you like to know how I came to be the Lord of Shadows?
I loved too much.
Impossible?" he chuckles. "No."
I saw what we are, you and I.
And further I saw what we could be...
Poets, artists, scientists, statesmen, mages, priests, philosophers...
I saw the potential of each human being drawing breath on the earth.

Such hope! Such possibility!
Oh, how I loved humanity for what it MIGHT be!
And recognizing that, I saw it in my own soul.
Infinite paths I could walk.
Infinite ways.
Infinite dreams to be dreamed.

And I dreamed... oh, how I dreamed!
I planned. I anticipated.
I strategized and projected and theorized and hoped...

Until I was old and frail... and then I died
With nothing done, no mark, no deed.
Hollow hopes and empty pages were my legacy.

There is only one sin in the eyes of God and I committed it.
For that I was made the Keeper of the Never Realm of Dreams."

Again he chuckles. "Why do you laugh? You stand as the keeper of Hell!"

"This is no punishment.
God does not punish.
This is my penance. This is my redemption.
Perhaps it will be yours as well."

We are beings of infinite potential
Bound in a finite world.
The cup MUST overflow
And I am there to catch the spill.

You see, there is only one thing you will not find here.
Amid this vault of might have beens and could yet be’s
There is one celestial treasure that is absent...
One bright jewel I can never gather to my halls.

The only thing you can deny me, sweet wanderer...
Is what IS.
I challenge you to keep that finest prize from me.

You’ve seen many wonders, many things that never were.
I am the hoarder, the pirate, the thief of fine dreams.
Only what IS is denied me... the rest is MINE!

I challenge you, walker of the world,
Child of flesh and blood,
That when the booty is divided between you and I
That YOU claim the finest share between what might have been
And what is.

Dream... hope... plan...
But don’t
Forget
To DO.