Chain Of Words

I was in the middle of reading 'Queen Of The Damned'. Lestat has come alive to me, I have BECOME Lestat, in the grip of the Queen, full of horrible anticipation at what she will do next.

In an odd way, Anne Rice's words mix with mine, as her tale becomes mine, and Lestat shudders in my mind.

Then onto Marius, in the woods, anticipating seeing his beloved Armand at the gathering of the ancients . . .

. . . and the words come to me, ''It is all a chain of words, she weaves a chain, I weave a chain . . .''

. . . and inspiration is on me. I leave Marius in the woods there and return to the present world. I took a picture of the bracelet that my Mother gave me. Just by chance its TRUTH bead is showing in the picture, and I remember my lunch fortune cookie...


December 21, 2002

Bracelet my Mother gave me this year for Christmas.
The linked words are, in order:


A string of words, a great string of words, weave the web of my consciousness. One word leads to another, as light from one candle being passed to another candle. What would they illuminate?

What would I learn new? Or will it merely be deeper details of a fact already known?


Thus said the fortune cookie muse today. And how do I love truth? How do I embrace it that it and I might know greater fulfillment? Everything comes from that unending stream of words, one to another, one to another, like beads in a rosary chain.

Do we need faith to wield this? Can I, faithless, pick up the chain, and find its connections? Do the connections, when found, make the faith?

For the moment, I believe so.

© Joan Ann Lansberry
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