Times Wellspring Calls for The King

[JuliusAakerlund 2402]

 

Treacherous Is Time

“One cannot escape it.”

 

 

“Past me the wells of time quicken, in this wildland i’m stuck and from memory stricken.”

 

Perilous is the journey we all take, for this place has no merciful tale to tell. In these lands mostly abandoned that I call now home. I search for the unsearchable, finding only the comforts of the self in my failures. The land littered by ruins long since abandoned and barely standing the tests of time. The waters beckon for the mouths which once held their thirst, trees sway to winds that once nestled between the hairs of the ancient peoples. But now it stands barren, land without purpose, land without faith. Monuments that stood harald to the era long passed; either crumbled into ruin or its many cracks overgrown with moss and mushroom. The wood welcomes back that it once lost, while the creatures of the wild mock the lost.

 

I stand here in a world long forgotten but with ancient history, alone, abandoned and forgotten. Things are silent, silence infest silence and as though whispers within whispers and through tongues yet not tongues the eerie reality settles. Have I failed my last? Have I not the chance to correct my mistakes? Am I as lonely as i’ve come to believe? While my thoughts wander the hairs on my back shiver in fear, my spine and cranium tingles as though bewatched; my throat parched and unprepared for words to flow. Is my existence not as unknown as I had thought? Am I not a mere leaf in the wind?

 

These subtle greeneries are endless, Malin.. this one only wishes to see you this last once. To have you speak your somber tunes for my long ears to hold comfort. For my peoples father to embosom me as I draw my last. I shared in your wisdom once, your mind so bright yet the past had you left disheveled and wounded. If it wasn’t for the trails you left, for your remaining presence I follow.. I would have thought you gone and myself a fool. Is this land what you saw last? Is this where you are? Sitting beneath a tree, in thought as you was last we met upon an ancient field. Nature whispers yet I hear not what it says, I may be blessed but the worlds spirit has long since had me abandoned.

 

O’ father of my people, why must you hide from your own kind? Perhaps I know the answer, but I am unwilling to accept its truth divine. The trees curve at your path, as though they know you well. Yet to me they stand only straight and poised, almost as though defiant to my presence. Why was it here you went and what did you come to find or see? I am old beyond my years, yet even I cannot find logic in any of this.. for if there is any it's beyond me. These shores sing of long ears, the ruins half buried in sand proof of your children. Is it the wandering ghosts I have met on my travels that interest you? Is their ultimate curse what has earned your empathy? The betrayal that was to them unbeknownst?

 

I shall find you one day, may the light shine upon my gray hair at the time. For now I have only time, time to travel, time to unravel and time to have your trail to tell its tale.

 

Let us sit beneath the blue sky…..

 

Let us peer at the stars while I see your smile…….

 

Let me see you safe in these mortal lands we were both birthed in……..

 

“In midsummer we found joy and you spread your wings, dancing amongst the great wood which has always called you King.”

[osumanduas 1442]

Moved to The Great Library. It shall be sorted into the appropriate category shortly.

 

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