The Beauty of Air Hockey

The Extension of All Things

The sword, the crimson dripping from end to end, an extension of war.

The shield, dents marked across its stolid surface, an extension of security, protection.

The dove, each feather purified with a celestial coloring, an extension of peace, tranquility.

The Mallet, red bursts etched across its surface from a myriad pucks, an extension of war.

The Mallet, dented and chipped from years spent before the goal, braving the puck, an extension of security, protection.

The Mallet, a gleaming white from rim to cylindrical peak, one shade speckled across its surface, an extension of peace, tranquility.

The Mallet, in it is found the extension of all things.

Anchor

I float through time and space, my surroundings always changing, I lose track of dreams and reality.

Is this real? Or is it but another hopeless dream, an experience lost with the light of a new day? My mind hurts, aches, now as I desperately try to turn astray from the current of the insane. I feel my feet beginning to leave solid ground as the current begins to pull me away, but, then, standing in the shadows of my mind, I see it. I reach out my arm and eagerly grasp hold of it, the sole anchor of reality in this confusing, distorted, world which surrounds me. I feel tranquility returning, my setting and environment once again becoming consistent, real. My feet return to solid ground and once again I thank my one true root connecting that which is literal and that which is ethereal. I thank the Air Hockey Table.  

A Song for the Soul

The mallets solid, hearty, chorus, a baritone of the upmost elegance.

The Pucks ringing vibrato, coming in a cadence oh so sweet.

The rails soft, soothing, hum, reminiscent of a shot long past.

The goals piercing clarion call, driving through the fear of defeat, of victory, strengthening the quiet resolve.

This is Air Hockey, a song for the soul. 

For All Who Search

For the monk it has its peace, that rare tranquility.

For the warrior it has its chaos, its thrills and challenge.

For the Knight it has its glory, the spoils of great victories.

For the priest it has its mysticism, its wonder and awe.

For all who search, for the meaning, for the purpose, in it is something.

The Object.

The Purpose.

For all who search, in Air Hockey will they find it.  

The moment when time stands still

A moment of frozen time, everything standing in Surreal Harmony. 

A moment of breathlessness, of perfect clarity into the world around you.

It is the moment that you look into the face of god.

It is the moment that you realize the mysteries of life, of the universe.

It is the moment that you realize the wonder of love.

It is the moment that you realize your life fulfilled.

It is a moment which stands like a developing lightning bolt, coming in a seemingly boundless, infinite moment, until, suddenly, it is gone.

It is the moment that pull your mallet back and wait but a second, before executing you shot.

It is the moment you time delay.