[h3][color=bedded][b][center]Thomas Richard Harrison[/center][/b][/color][/h3]
[center][indent][color=bedded][i]Location:[/i][/color] Forest North of Salarn.
[color=bedded][i]Interacting with:[/i][/color] No one [/indent][/center]

As the moon reflects the sun,
Usher in the tides that come,
Powers that do wax and wane,
Your cycle rises again.

Shamballa. How does your light shine in the halls of Shamballa. What colours revealed in your enlightenment? Have you reached your inner nirvana yet? Or do you simply reek of teen spirit instead? What depth of understanding do you have to these meaningless concepts? Abstractions of formless words, and visions of wordless forms. Within your eyes wide shut, open your eyes and see. And there you will contemplate if this is the real life, or merely a fantasy as they easily come and go. There you shall straddle yourself the fine line, up on the tightwire, where one side is ice and the other is fire. Awaken to be consumed by the brightness of the flames, or slumber into the chill of frost. How long will you last? Or maybe you're just too blind to see? There the bright blessed day, and the dark sacred night entwine around you to become your cloak and robe. Swirling Colours of the rainbow paint the sky in maddening ecstasy. And perhaps you would whisper to yourself in dark delirium: what a wonderful world. 

So what music to accompany this cosmic mandala? Throat singing? Orations? To what tune does the universe dance to but those of a blind idiot who proclaims himself a god? The rhythms of eternity with your heart beats, the cycle of breaths in and out drawing your body closer to the astral plane. What comfort was there to sit like this? But with every breath drawn in more and more of the sand is developed. Sand which soothes and harmonizes the world. Sand that sprinkled over by the sand men, into the eyes of a weary dreamer. To sleep and perchance then to dream. Now meditation turns into slumber where the mind shall rest as the soul escapes.

But enough mysticism, Thomas was no guru or yogi, in all honesty one can only keep one's eyes closed and breathing regulated for so long before you just tend to nod off. And away to be taken by the Queen. Mab of course, unless the sorcerer was expected to slump over from his meditative position and bite the dust. Then there would be a different sort of Queen.