#enervated

IF I suck the flame into my mouth, Will it warm the places You have left so bare? I lean over the fire, Flutter my fingers— Dare my fingers down toward a spark. I am cold—and tired: Push me a little … Yes?

----

Ennui

Marion Strobel  1895-1967

----

Did he have a name? It feels so long

Since he heard

A name.

A name of meaning; a name that was his

And his alone, something unshareable

By his counterparts.

Did he always run? Was it normal for

An endless pain, an endless unmending wound

To keep him standing?

To keep his feet moving left, right,

Left

Then Right

And left again?

Did he always yearn for dreams?

Dreams to sweep him off his feet with

Shimmering stars,

And a man with a smile made

Of pure gold?

Did he wish to please the Maker

At his own expense?

Was it always this way of living,

Of standing and

Running

The running

Why was there so much running?

Did he always wish for sleep?

For a blissful release

From this hellish world in which

He could find no break?

Was he always

We are not always right….

We are not always right….

Not every time we are the King,

sometimes even create a fuss as we sing;

Remember even the leaf would dance on thy will,

then who are we, intruding the nature’s skill,

the eerie tornados of inhuman morality,

killing the every truth with its brutality;

Everywhere brume of bloodless notions are furled,

enervated this powerful creation as drab  world.

  Prachi Gupta

This is why Phillip, and any companion of his, can pass through here under such perfect obscurity. Should he dress in the attire of the farming folk as he does know, who can recognize him? Certainly no one had before and no one ever will, neither through the roads, and not in the tavern he and Bastion currently loiter in.

“Lady Luck, your gifts are bad! You trick us, then you make us mad! Make us gamble, make us fight! And sit out in the cold all night!”

His voice rises above the clamor. He raises his tankard high into the air and the froth from everyone’s cup spills endlessly. He drinks deep and they applaud his finishing of the ale in one swipe. And again, more song:

“‘Brrr!’ The naked loser moans, when he is cold and left alone, shakes and shivers as he groans: ‘I wish I could be asleep under a tree With a hot sunshine warming my bones!’”