Perched in the wilderness on the hilltop. Beautiful life in dim moon rays. Soft, white pure light illuminating it all alone. The manor, lonely. Wisdom.

          And it was true he had seen much. Many came and went, abandoned he, he who has a constant. A roof over all the heads of those that came to him, open arms and opened doors he nurtured each and every one. He loved them, caught their tears.

          1941 the completion. He was built beautiful, all those who saw him knew it. And still they dreamed of buildings the future would bring. Those in the past dreamed of the future. But time, weather and hard experience beat down on him year after year. Upon his foundation, stable he stood his ground. He saw pain, heartache, hurt and lies. Humanity at it’s worse he only practiced compassion.

          Alone and aglow in the moonlight, gray bricks the building stones of a Manor. Cobwebs rusted and weathered by many years this lone Manor.

          He was betrayed. He saw all of the deceit the world had to offer, he saw love in it’s purest form. He practiced compassion and wisdom to all and asked nothing in return as he sheltered the confused and the weak. As he nurtured them.

          Aging ageless, in the moonlight dim. Wrinkled broken and cracked this relic of the past left behind in the dust of the future. This angel, this sanctuary to the Angels. The Manor, forgotten and gray. Those who saw him then only dreamed of what the future would build. But now, the people of the past have become the future, left only to dream of many yesterdays. Taken for granted.

          Taken for granted as he made it through life, taking hit after hit. Feeling each gust of wind try to push him off his foundation, and letting those winds gently erode him. Shape him, this wrinkled broken down beat down manor a memory of yesterdays. What was he like back then?

          Welcome, the front door rasps with a creak as I peer inside the moonlit manor. As I watch a timeline unfold.

          He took them all in, nurtured them and sheltered them through the storms. Held them, taught them and was a constant even after they left. Even after they abandoned him, the manor the castle.

          But not without leaving their mark on he. And peering in, I see the timeline of those who came and went. Their family portraits still hung upon his walls, upon the walls of his mind they still exist today. All those he loved unconditionally. They came and went, but his ground he held as he watched and learned. Silent manor in the moonlight, silent knowing he creaked a Welcome to me without letting his guard down as he let me in.

          He had seen much. He felt the storms, he had so many try to tear him down. And he learned from each blow, each gust. He took it inside and embraced it under a roof of learning. Forgotten, taken for granted he appreciated they who hurt him.

          Old.

          In it’s purest, weathered, eroded condition. In it’s wisdom. Wise.

          And a welcome he let me inside to have a look around the mind of a relic, Relics of the past still under his roof he let them shape him and treasured the marks they left on him.

          And still he welcomed me. In is frail, brittle state he still found it in him to care and nurture even just one more. Aged, ageless and old. Every wrinkle his story, his story the compilation of many others stories.

          Into the eyes of my Father I looked and beheld a true wisdom.

          A knowledge, a pure understanding. Compassion, knowing in their most powerful form I beheld as I gazed into the eyes of my leader.

          This is what it meant to truly have succeeded.

          The Manor in the Moonlight, 2011.

          Seventy Years Standing.

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