Lonely Elysian Fields

Running through the forest, pack strapped tight, eyes that gleam that invite that soothe. Coltish, waspish, elfin; she is all this and more, so much more. I love her. I realize this now but have known all along. My love is undiluted and rich with the wild scent of summer’s first rain… I grow jealous as the glimmer of the sun catches her hair, of the wind as it brushes a coppery strand of perfect hair from a perfect face, the grasses as they caress the soles of her delicate, delicate feet. My heart swells as the swells of the ridges we cross. The unnatural hush seems to me that of Mother Nature herself paying homage to her grace, her beauty.

I am hers to command and always was. I will be the shadow that follows her to the ends of the earth, for I am as dark as she is lustrous, my soul is a void that is only filled up by fleeting glimpses of her, only coaxed out of its dank grave by the soft fragrance left by vagrant petals of her presence strewn on that barren tomb. She says so herself that I am black, that I am the Dark One, that if one looks into my eyes long enough the only thing they can see is further darkness. That the deeper one gazes into the ebony shrouds of my cowl the deeper the shadows get, the further away I move, the more distant I become.

That is my fate but it must not be hers. It is why I follow her to the ends of the earth if need be. Only a shadow can pass where her will takes her, only darkness can follow the light she casts into my world, for this evil, this darkness, this emptiness is my world. It is my home, has been so for years and I would have it no other way. My soul weeps but the tears are joyous. I have finally found a reason, not for living but for death. I will forgo my legacy of immortal life, for I don't deserve it. I am unworthy; her grace and serenity rob me of my peace and shatter the walls of eternal solitude that I thought impregnable, insuperable. She is my Eden, I yearn for her but know that to touch her is to corrupt her, to spread my disease. I will gladly pass up immortality to glance upon this vision just a few more years, a vision that has bored into depths I never knew existed. Never shall I forget her, I cannot; I love her and that is enough, that is all I need, even if it wasn’t I wouldn’t care. Death is my legacy but it need not be hers.

I will keep my unrequited tryst…

Cipher

He felt shallow, hollow, inept and disused, tossed aside like a ship in a storm. Torn asunder by friend and foe alike, he sought solace in himself. Eschewing mundane life he chose to tread a path many others had worn in for him. He migrated to the solitude of Dreaken Reach hoping to quench his subconscious thirst for an ultimate reckoning. He did not know it then but what he truly sought was the stark beauty of death. He had achieved all he had wanted and more with his life and now was the time for his final bow. He was a showman and wanted to go out with a bang. He laughingly remembered his whims of an heroic death, of a meaningful death. But funny thing, he just realized that death by definition was meaningless, unless taking life had meaning. So many things seemed eternal, the sky the mountains the seas. Yet time struck them down. One as insignificant as him could be smote down by something far lesser.

The Cherub

The soft light of a full winter moon graced the earth that day. The pungent smell of overturned earth was rich in the air. Even in this muted gray moonlight every leaf of every bush seemed to stand out in sharp relief. They wound their way through dust-streaked markers that was all that was left as a reminder of those that lay there; some nobles, some rich traders and some simply poor peasants. Maybe it was not all that was left as remembrance, as their memories and hopes lived and breathed in the hearts of others.

As a child of ten his brother could only gaze in awe at the reverence with which his father was treated. As far as he could see, pairs of elite commando guards flanked the path at intervals of every five feet or so. As they crossed these sentinels of death, they turned in solemn unison to a signal only they could perceive, with their weapons raised in gracious salute.

Decked out and resplendent in full military regalia they reminded him of his father at times, but those times were not the ones he would like to remember. He remembered the side of his father he had seen more often and had liked best. He saw the kindhearted, gentle man, a man who always cared and had a special glint in his eye for his son. Some said he resembled his father in many ways, but he was too young to comprehend or care. He could not even grasp the full depth of what his father’s demise meant. But as the simple wooden coffin was carefully lowered into the ground by four of the elite guards using two ropes passed through the handles of the casket, he felt an incredible, undeniably adult sense of loss.

As he saw the dirt cascade onto the rough wooden frame, he took solace from the solid form of his stepbrother who stood nearby. For some reason his presence seemed to demand respect, even though he was neither physically commanding nor debonair. His quiet confidence seemed to draw the child towards him and it had always been so.

His elder brother and stepbrother were practically inseparable and were brothers in every sense of the word. It was with his brother alone that he saw his stepbrother crack a smile, and when it came, it was truly open and kind. But never with anyone else. It seemed strange to his child’s mind as he thought it through, for every one he knew tended to smile more often. Had he known the full history behind his stepbrother and what he had done, the remorse he felt but the necessity for his actions, he would have felt some degree of understanding. His father and he were alike in many ways… Suffice to say the child looked up to the young man standing next to him; that would not change for a long time.

The shots rang through the air as the guards weapons were fired in one final salute to the fallen warrior that lay below, and he was a child again, filled with joy at the crack and boom of the rifles. For a time it was just another carnival to his child’s mind as he stood there mimicking the saluting soldiers around the now interred grave.

The Futility of War

Sit and dream, silent scream

Open mouthed freedom fighter

Die with meaning in glorious pain

Sing your songs, mouth your prayers

Death will haunt you still