Deep below the earth
darkness crawls.

Twelve wickedly barbed
clawed fingers
dig into stone and drag it's body forward.
Its flesh of innumerable tendrils
wrapped around bones of glass
dripping with ichor
leaves an oily trail behind.

For millennia it has searched for escape.
Ever since its one fleeting glimpse of sweet starlight.
That memory shimmers in the pits of its mind
which has only ever truly known darkness.

It thinks not of what we mortals may think
if we come across it.
Nor what dangers our surface world may hold
for a creature such as it.

It only wishes
to feel the satin touch
of cool starlight upon its face.
Maybe if it climbs high enough
it will reach it
and watch all worlds below
​as they dance through an unknowable day.

Green eyes glimmering
behind polished leaves of stone.
Do you see them too?

Wow, you sure do make metal sing.
Even if it is through the blood and bones of your enemies,
you make it into an art.

Have you ever thought about who you might be
if you hadn't been given this path?
If instead of grasping the hilt of a sword
you had been given the feather of a quill instead?
I do. Quite often.

You were the subject of prophecy
before you were even born.

The child of darkness and light
brought forth under a starless night
when colors dripped from the sky.
Born to lift the failing heart of Alfar
and wring the rottenness from its core
before all is lost.

I've thought about those words over the decades,
pondered them and discussed them with scholars.
Not once do they mention fighting
or violence of any kind.
But as soon as you were born
and were strong enough to stand,
a sword was pressed into your hand.

You grew up wielding it
swinging it through the air like it was a part of you
because that's how we all treated it.
Like it was the only extension of you
that made sense in the world.
The piece that would save us
and change us for the better.

But I don't think we ever asked you
if you enjoyed the feeling of that heavy metal in your hand.
If you didn't see any other way for you to bring change
to our tumultuous world.

I know that now
you are so battle hardened and used to that steel
that you probably just assume it is the only way.
We morphed your mind into seeing violence as the only solution
because we were too afraid and hurried
to consider anything else ourselves.

I do hope you won't hold that against us.
That you'll see we were truly trying to help you grow
into the person you deserved to be
and that our world needed.
Hindsight is 20/20, of course.
I can look back all I want
and see the possible choices that I knowingly or unknowingly strode past
wondering how they would have turned out
and if they would have led to a similar state of uncertain peace
for this world that we've all haplessly found ourselves upon.

It won't actually change anything.
You'll still be who you are
and I will still  be me.
But it never hurts to wonder,
does it?

I can always dream
about the peaceful person who might be living
just beneath your surface
always longing to be free,
but pushed down by the society you were raised in
and the hardened calluses
of the person you actually grew to be.
Would you have been a bard?
Singing soothing tales that calmed the soul
of all the warring armies?

Or maybe an archivist
who drew out the lessons of histories lost
and instructed the world to see
the mistakes of its past and learn
from those who came before us?

​I guess we'll never know.

The trees are our guardians
our protectors against thirst and famine.
Within their branches are our homes
our fields and families.

​We never have to worry about fresh water here.
The trees collect the rain for us.
Their branches reach out like fingers
attached to palms of leaves,
and the drops drip down the ridged bark
to collect amidst the roots in streams.

We never have to worry about crops here.
The trees are heavy laden
with luscious fruit
and creatures to hunt.
Here, we never go to sleep
with an empty belly.

Where else would we want to stay
other than within the steady embrace
of the trees?

The rain continues to pour
as it has for centuries.

I have heard rumors of the sun
that hibernates deep inside the storm clouds up above.
Some sort of flame placed in the sky by the gods.
I've been told
that if ever the rain stops falling
and the clouds split apart,
that flame will send its tendrils down
to steal our seas away.

I pray that day never comes to pass.
For how strong must a single flame be
if it is able to pull away the water from an entire world
and leave its inhabitants gasping in the dry remains?

Whatever god placed it there
must have been a vengeful one.
A being set upon the death and destruction of all the beings on this planet.
For I could never imagine a version of our world
where the lanterns do not glow and bob
along the surface of the gleaming oceans.

Can we talk about yesterday?

I know I was out of line. I shouldn't have cast my shadow at you.
There are dozens of ways I could've handled that better.
But you were being so aggravating!

You need to understand that when I say no to something, I mean it.
It doesn't matter if it's in private or out in public when it happens.
It always means the same thing, and it should carry the same amount of force.

So yes, I will apologize for using my shadow to toss you across the road and into the bushes.
But I will not apologize for setting the boundaries that I need.

And with the tolling of the bells
the heart doth beat
the spirit swells,
and what once was dead
and buried deep
shall raise its head
and never sleep again.

I see your eyes widen.
Is it death that you fear?
Well let your soul be lightened,
for I am no threat to you.
I am simply here
to guide you
and be your puppeteer.
You'll be my break through!

Eternal
sunrise marks
a new day.

The sky shines
brilliantly
above you.

But don't you
miss your friend
the pale moon?