Some are known, some less known, while others known not to exist in this land to which I am an apprentice. I am a paying refugee in this sanctum of wanderers whose diversity lies in their visages. Some like to pretend by bruising the air with their clay daggers while others hide themselves with their helms of wrinkle-less neutrality. Some bash their raw steel on the anvil crafting swords with sharp edges while some spend their hours melting metals in the flicking fickle fire. The masters cast their experienced eyes in the workshops which reeks of sweat and warm breath. I block the swings of scimitars and claymores with my kite shield of inheritance. I protect the cloistered treasures of secrets from the seekers of my Achilles heel. Some wear the breastplate of pride bestowed upon them by great kings of caliber. Some wear medals of plastic and ceramic upon their chest to display their omnimpotance. Surrounded by strange men, in my gauntlets I am clutching a power to part the lands and unleash hell without the heavy battle axes or cowardly claws. I seek solace in those who have inherited the gloves gilded with abilities to turn hell into heaven and heaven into hell, the alchemy of those who have turned immortal, the prophets of life and the elixir of paradise. With them I share my bread and wine. While the absent images lure in the dreams of those to whom the truth is not taken, I will write a new truth today when I finally close my eyes.
No comments:
Post a Comment