Trinity College School - Record Yearbook (Port Hope, Ontario Canada)

Page 29 text:

He existed in darkness and was alone Not a voice, not a caress. Silky blackness and solitude were his alone. He walked and there was no sound. He looked and saw nothing. His only escape was imagination; He began to dream. In those dreams he lived He saw man made in his image Walking, talking, touching. And in those dreams he saw light. As time passed his dreams became reality; He no longer existed - He no longer lived in darkness - He lived in a world of light. This world was his creation and He became its lord, The Lord of Light. The Dream | I I I

Page 28 text:

The Touch of Dreams That feeling you get on summer holidays while alone in a beautiful spot”. A mindless, surf-soaked body lay upon a sandstone chesterfield. She had left the moonscaped shoreline behind. Where was she? She was everywhere, streaking through and past the cosmos at the speed of light, yet gaining a perspective of all She saw with the slow, intense scrutiny of a tortoise. Her power of magnification was such that elements responded by projecting cold tubes of light to infinity. Vibrant auras enveloped atoms; She reached out and - yes! touched them! Rocks that had been lifeless for eons were seen to live and die. Then, the soul of the sea, the ever-moving volatile sea, embraced Her. They surged together in ecstasy . . . Om! Here is Life and God and Eternity manifest on Earth! And all the while, a breathing forest sighed in the sky behind Her . . .

Page 30 text:

All That I Am Jose Lopez stood on the porch of his wooden shack and peered through sleepy eyes at a small field of ripening corn, which was his own. Usually on such a morning as this, when the sun splashed colour on the drops of dew, the little man would have been filled with pride and happiness, but today he shifted his gaze and stood beaming empty-mindedly into the purple haze of tall, soft mountains, back and beyond. “Oh!”, he spoke softly to him- self, “my seed has grown well . . . The corn has never been better, but that orange sun will shine, and I will have to bend my back and feel my clothes stick as I sweat for it.” “No! I can ' t stand it! Not today - not one more day, ever!” And the trembling figure burst over the porch, slipped through the corn patch and across the drift fence of old knotted gray beams, as he fixed a course towards a longvalley shrouded in a lurid purple vapour. “Aw, hee!” He cried, gasped, and laughed like a madman. Inside, he wanted to proffer to the whole amorous landscape a feeling that could not be contained. It seemed some God was driving him wild. Around hummocks and across leas, Jose” went on a frolic that even a deranged leprechaun could not manage. “Oh! possessed by a demon and Oh! so numb of mind and free of spirit . . . Hello mountains!” he cried, and as they answered him, he came to rest in the chill of a stream. “Ah! Thank you kindly.” he said, and stood looking at the water. “How are you today, my love? I am fine thank you . . . How are your fishies? Well, I shall see you farther up the valley ... I shall find where you and I belong . . . Don’t go away . . . Hootchie-coo little stream; see you later!”