Elixir
Moderators: deer of the dawn, Furls Fire
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- Bloodguard
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Elixir
I, the forgotten, rejected, the Great Unwanted,
unwelcomed, unmissed in departing, in loss unlamented,
I who have walked in the umbras of wasted seasons,
dwelt in the midden of others' discarded lessons,
for none of my betters would taste the nauseous wisdom —
only the dying take medicine, and they but seldom,
for attar of funeral roses is sweeter solace —
I, I alone, know such thirst as to drink from that chalice.
You, who have lived among lovers, all singing your praises,
each of them damning all rivals by jealous assizes,
bowing before you, strewing your path with white petals,
taking your causes upon them, your wounds and your battles;
You who are fulsomely flattered by talk of your talent —
no emptier word ever spoken, and none so repellent,
for talent will rot ere it ripens, where toil endures ages —
You shall have fool's gold and five minutes' fame for your wages.
You call me a poisoner, lunatic, justly forsaken,
for the truth that I tasted is hemlock and wormwood when spoken.
If I let spill one astringent drop of that philtre,
you deem it my heart's libation poured out on your altar;
then, taking for sovereign your charms, my mocking for candid,
delight in rejecting a suit that I never intended.
You say that you see me repine? Your sight is askew:
My tears are but dross, yet why should I spend them on you?
Ah, pity the fool who gives heed to a sycophant's message!
They tell you the sun but reflects your irradiant visage;
they tell you your genius proves the existence of magic;
they tell you your footless beliefs are the standard of logic.
But when flattery fails, and charisma, and talent, and youth,
you, even as I, shall taste the unwatered truth.
Then I, inured to that bitter cup, shall arise
while you, despising, despairing, dissolve with your lies.
unwelcomed, unmissed in departing, in loss unlamented,
I who have walked in the umbras of wasted seasons,
dwelt in the midden of others' discarded lessons,
for none of my betters would taste the nauseous wisdom —
only the dying take medicine, and they but seldom,
for attar of funeral roses is sweeter solace —
I, I alone, know such thirst as to drink from that chalice.
You, who have lived among lovers, all singing your praises,
each of them damning all rivals by jealous assizes,
bowing before you, strewing your path with white petals,
taking your causes upon them, your wounds and your battles;
You who are fulsomely flattered by talk of your talent —
no emptier word ever spoken, and none so repellent,
for talent will rot ere it ripens, where toil endures ages —
You shall have fool's gold and five minutes' fame for your wages.
You call me a poisoner, lunatic, justly forsaken,
for the truth that I tasted is hemlock and wormwood when spoken.
If I let spill one astringent drop of that philtre,
you deem it my heart's libation poured out on your altar;
then, taking for sovereign your charms, my mocking for candid,
delight in rejecting a suit that I never intended.
You say that you see me repine? Your sight is askew:
My tears are but dross, yet why should I spend them on you?
Ah, pity the fool who gives heed to a sycophant's message!
They tell you the sun but reflects your irradiant visage;
they tell you your genius proves the existence of magic;
they tell you your footless beliefs are the standard of logic.
But when flattery fails, and charisma, and talent, and youth,
you, even as I, shall taste the unwatered truth.
Then I, inured to that bitter cup, shall arise
while you, despising, despairing, dissolve with your lies.
Without the Quest, our lives will be wasted.
- Fist and Faith
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Nice Work VF! Have you done others?
War is an ugly thing, but not the ugliest of things. The decayed and degraded state of moral and patriotic feeling which thinks that nothing is worth war is much worse. The person who has nothing for which he is willing to fight, nothing which is more important than his own personal safety, is a miserable creature and has no chance of being free unless made and kept so by the exertions of better men than himself. John Stuart Mill
- Fist and Faith
- Magister Vitae
- Posts: 23560
- Joined: Sun Dec 01, 2002 8:14 pm
- Has thanked: 6 times
- Been thanked: 32 times
- Fist and Faith
- Magister Vitae
- Posts: 23560
- Joined: Sun Dec 01, 2002 8:14 pm
- Has thanked: 6 times
- Been thanked: 32 times
Elixir
don’t know what brought this to mind just now. But I haven’t bumped it in four years, so here you go.
All lies and jest
Still a man hears what he wants to hear
And disregards the rest -Paul Simon
Still a man hears what he wants to hear
And disregards the rest -Paul Simon