tcs_tonsils_ 2829 Share Posted June 9, 2022 Selection of Poetry - Vol. 13 10th of Wzuvar at Byvca, 429 E.S. [!] A portrait of an adult Borris Iver Kortrevich “Untitled” Courage makes the weakest man face his demons. Lust makes the most loyal one bend to his own whimsy. Determination can have men rise above their stations And shame can leave the once bullheaded one wallowing in pity. Why do we stand so blind to the ways of this world? We run in circles, a dog chasing its own tail. No plan has been made, no secret unfurled. So we try again with no change, a sure way to fail. So what shall it be, this life of common men? Will it be consumed by fire, discord, or death? Shall it wither away, or slink into the shadows again? Or will it be marveled at, categorized alongside the best? “Blacksmith” Dampening sweat, the lifelong comrade of a man so dedicated. The burns and the blisters line his hands like scaring. Face always dirty, coal stained blackness, soot and ash. And so he toils, proud is the one who is so daring. The hammer that pounds away on the metal drum, The burning red glow of weapons to be erected. A master envisions that blade in his mind, Then allows the brilliance of his work to be directed. An object so tough, left softened by the heat. The image becomes clearer with every new beat, Till the proposed blade is brought forth, glorious in construction. A crafted weapon which may bring both honor and destruction. “Grey” Brazen patterns embolden over a blackened sky, Silhouettes of once puffy white clouds floating aimlessly. They block the infinite space behind them, Causing this space to be confined- strangling. What purpose have you, if it does not rain? You barrackade us, cutting off the numerous stars above. A severing of the light, an unforeseen beauty to behold. It is all we know, this deepness, something we have yet to find. Signed, Borris Iver Kortrevich KML 3 Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
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