Greetings friends
The moon is high in the sky as I write this but my soul is low within me.
Those of you who have been with me from the beginnig will know mine, for the past little while, has not been an easy path.
TOrmented in the den of the murderous harpy-witches, who too ironically proved to be my teachers of the fairest sort, I escaped very much scathed but still quite determined to regain my self.
alas I found that having sold what little I had and replaced it with excretement-that is the only word-and having then retched up that even, I was left with less than nothing. Not even energy.So I spent the Summer resting, doing only so much as to avoid acusations of sloth.
When my time at the institute began I was refreshed, enthusiastic and somewhat healed. All was beautiful, everything glimmered. From the people I met to the Town I fell in love with to even the very lectures themselves , all was wonderful but alas I am a dramatist by nature. Where I go Jaunes and Puck harken , sowing mischief in my wake.
I met a fair maiden " full beaut' a fairy child" and fairer still man and had the most unfortunate luck to fall inlove with both. Not a romantic love understand, though what I felt for this fair maiden -let us call her Sawela- did give me cause for concern, no this more was the kind mortals feel for gods.
For a little while I could not live without these two, every waking moment not spent with them was wasted. be it study or leisure my world was shiny simply because they were there.
Snide comments and offences against my honour were left ignored by me,but to breathe an hour in their presence. It excites amd worries me that anyone let alone two persons should have an effect over me.
Perhaps that is the nature of the poet:
To worship and laud and praise
Though thine own back be bruis'd and raised
with welts, a little whipping boy
thankful for the pain
More Sir add salt anything at all to distract
from the flaws of my own existance
More good Dam, more My Good Man heed my insistance
To elavate to desecrate to go through ritual and rite
to sacrifice to comprimise to trust whole-heartedly
and love
To give up to cast disbeleif on the copral to wait
dissapointed for a superbeing to save
To abandon to turn away disraught to focus on said pain
To kick rubble, toss dirt ,scratch earth then rebuild again
Distrustful of gold or God put thine trust in humans
*****
Needless to say things have changed now, a foray with the darker arts as some misguided fools may call them, put an end to all that. Add to that dissapointment in the form of many elders I looked up to.
I am a duller being no not that hurt dusty
not blind, unseeing
now I learn what I have learnt a chain link
Rusting ever ready to break
tempered forescore and yore ago by hate
Mans selfish delusions oft are to the exclusion
of the soul
We do not do compassion knock elsewhere freind
We trained you well to serve the moment now
the moments at an end and instructed in the way to go
turn right or left you lose yourself
but what more now have I to replenish what more to sell?
I would like to say I've fallen from grace but I have to look up to see hell
Aerté
