No. 10/10
Humility without ability is like thunder without the bolt:
A lie most egregious.
~
No. 20/10
Ataraxia: a state of serene calmness.
It was for myself that I said “No more:”
Hatred or dour thoughts
On Tuesdays
In the dark,
Pillow pressed against my head.
My sleep has been easier since.
~
No. 30/10
Loving the idealized version of another person.
What a terrible disservice to yourself and them.
We are not gods, we fleshly humans,
Ichorous and unfailing-
-our blood runs thin:
Hands on a clock.
See them-
-their truth,
And love.
~
No. 40/10
The heart wants what it wants,
Needs what it thinks,
Bleeds what it will,
And we are left to live,
Thumping ignorantly.
~
No. 50/10
Through hills and valleys,
Paths paved and not,
Your wondrous love
Found me
Seated at our bench,
You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.
Eating a stale sandwich,
Smiling at the sun,
Looking the fool.
We laughed, chortled, snickered, near lost our breath:
Until the seat was gone,
Temperatures reduced,
Simmering low,
Your tongue was mint.
~
No. 60/10
Brown hair, gleaming bronze,
Plaited or free;
Blonde tresses, golden pale,
Curled or bound;
Black mass, thickest dark,
Wild or tied;
Red waves, sanguine silk,
Shaved or shorn;
(Both are lovely.)
~
No. 70/10
The sword falls way down,
Swiftly past the nothingness.
The wrong boy is dead.
~
No. 80/10
She is sickly sunshine
Whimpering hopes against the atmosphere,
Light enough to reach
And never reflect.
~
No. 90/10
Tired, we:
Running up the mountain,
Roaring off a cliffside,
Footsteps taken,
Breaths exchanged,
Dive into eternity:
Our history is remembered:
The marks have been made.
~
No. 100/10
“You are king. That means something.”
“Does it?” I asked aloud, wondering if:
“It must,” my sister asserted. (I)
-disagreed with a flattering hum,
Rejoining, “So you say-”
-for:
“So I do. So did Mother and Father. So did your children.”
“So did your wife and citizens too.”
I knew, “I know,” and she laughed bellsome tears,
Sounding of rain and lilies o’er my favourite bridge,
Splattering
The Eos, which overlooked our city, run red by the dawn.
“Hah!”
My sister’s favourite was Nyx, a shadowed thing-
-brick and mortar, and rarely touched;
It sat far below, and stretched half as much;
A bridge of ill repute.
“Do you think it true?”
“Your honesty is real?”
“Always and forever,” my sister replied
Half in and out my ear.
I let loose a lax breath, streaks ran down my face,
Dawning red, featherlight lace.
Nyx was known for dying, darkened by the wet
River, furiously cleansing itself,
Flooding tearful currents towards our city dear.
Dead bodies were common sights from those swept off its thick;
Our people, dead bodies, gone like morning mist.
‘How terribly morose on such a blessed day.’
I thought of other things, roughly hewn;
I sighed, and my sister sighed too.
Together we looked upon our city,
Feeling old, far from youth.
I loved our people, like I did my bridge.
The world went quiet, the world went dim.
“If king I must be, then rule I shall,” and my sister-
-ever clever
Said:
“Very well,”
“What is your first-”
“Edict?” I asked, and wonder oh wonder,
For I spoke first and fast,
She was rent speechless, wordless phantom of the…
“Ah,” I laughed,
“My sister is dead!”
Like Mother and Father, my wife
And them:
My children many.
Down I looked, upon my ruin.
Further down was Nyx, and below my feet Eos,
Both of them strong. Unlike I,
King of a broken people
Leaping without fear.
Red and splattered bone,
I-