A/N This is just a odd poem that Thom wrote before he died. It is supposed to be about some of his last thoughts about life, Gift, and soul. Really cheesy I know but, oh well. Flames are welcome.
Here I sit, upon this chair, in the half darkness and I think of nothing, yet in some
perverted way I can think of everything. I do not feel ashamed or pitiful that I am who I
am because I am not who everybody thinks I am. I am different, I had hope, once, and I
had love, once, but I found something that is much better than anything else, I have the
Gift. This is my life and my livelihood yet I am to be destroyed by it. I am what everybody
expects me to be, I can feel the heat burning in my soul, hoping, wanting to be released,
but yet I hold it in. I know that I won't live much longer but yet I strive to survive on my
only rope of knowledge. I can feel the eyes of the gods wanting me, I know that they are
waiting. Unlike what many people think, I am not lost I have hope, for I have a son. This I
was forbidden to write, for fear of what the people would think, but I don't care what the
people think. I want.... well..... it does not matter what I want but...... yet....... well......
quite frankly, I am confused and I have no right to be I know who did this to me and I
hope on my sister's ashes, Goddess let her live long and prosper. That some one well find
this, but one who is trustworthy. I am putting my trust into you, the reader of this letter
that you well find my son and help him grow, and learn his craft. There is money involved,
but first you have to find him, he was born in Port Caryn and his name is.......Yolen.
AA/N all right I know that was really stupid but hey I wrote it in like.... well I don't know ow long it took me.But if you like the idea I think that I may write some stories about Thom's uknown son. So review and I'll.....uuuuummmmmmmmmm....I'll uh, kiss your cyber feet.
Icy