This stack of poety and prose gets higher and higher, and I am forced to scroll further into my ramblings before I find something worthy of my opus. Here are the musings and half-thoughts that I write when quills and papers are within reach.
Agehood of a Lad
When I was young they called me Brilliant
Curious and knowing I pursued knowledge
I ate understanding with ferocity
And my appetite would not be stayed
Through the teachings my town had to offer
Then larger cities
And citadels still
I stood with my father when they proclaimed me Enlightened
And I felt as if I stood under the brilliance of the gods
But there is where darkness snuck in from the light’s shadow
Aghast! The Fallen
Would that I could tell you
Of my first night as Enlightened
That all my brain had absorbed was spilling forth off a silver tongue
Impressing kings and seducing maidens
But I sat alone
And the only thing that spilled that night were tears
How Reality Looks to a Fraud
I have read scrolls that have travelled further than I could dream
I studied scriptures recording voices from mountain peaks
I can reference legend and lore of long before my time
I’ll tell you all there is to know of a plant genus I’m hinged on faith to believe exists
I can summarise these things and more
And from my tower of books I am a fraud
For I have not seen with my own eyes
Ne’er felt with mine own hands
Tasted
Only ever heard, or read
And so I sit amongst legions of learned souls
And feel a phony
Pointless
Abscond with the Truth
Father,
I’ve packed my bags in the night. I send a raven rather than dove so no treachery will befall her while she flies through inky skies to bring you these words. You have given gold, and—even more precious—time, to see that I become educated. My hand trembles to write even this . . . to tell my father that all he has given is not enough. The heart can only hear about the world so long before it drives the body to action.
I’m to set off as an adventurer. I bring with me my inkwells and quills, my tomes and my scrolls, so you will hear from me.
So many before me have written the information I have consumed thus far. It is time I offer something to the future more than my understanding of the past.
I must taste the earth if I am to free myself of the musty libraries. I will record the present and leave truth and knowledge for the generations to come.
Do not search for me. I do not intend to stop long enough to be found.
Set Off!
The guards nod off in the painter’s light of morning
I am a fox under hill
Dew licks my Leather Boots, pristine from lack of use
Set to work for the journey ahead
Ponders of an Adventurer
How long before I drop my name
And take on a moniker more suited
Am I a wayfarer or nomad
If not, how long until then
The spirit of adventure rumbles in my tum
And I realise I have not eaten since dawn
Blast These Critters
I brought with me rations of course
And traps for hares and birds
And it takes a steady hand and gentle touch to bag a buck
Drat—I snapped another line
I have with me not weapons nor the will to kill
But I know every berry, leaf, and fungus available to me by sight
It is possible herbology was not a pointless course
A Bedroll in Thickets
How best to defend oneself while asleep?
Why crawl beneath a thicket bush and nature shall preserve you
Even a thief knows not to stick their hands in a thorny thatch
But remember where you are when you wake
For I’ve torn my face by rising too eagerly
Red Roofs Like Amber
I’ve done it!
A day’s journey to be had
Travelling further on foot than I’ve ever dared
A harvest and bounty of berries and elm
I’ve survived the night and approach this town a stranger
Outsider, Outsider
A night as black as the banner that flies,
A moon as sharp as the banner that flies,
My stomach rumbles and I smell Mushroom stew
From the windows of the Boar’s Head Tavern
What Is Money If Not Everything
I have with me some gold, from clerk work (as one does)
But how far can I get with it, I wonder?
As a rogue or vagabond
A pinch of bread and cup of ale can’t be too hard if the drunkards get to it
I’ll just casually reach out . . .
Pain As Experienced By a Thief
They are upon me sooner than I touched the crust
Pummelling hands bare down on me
And with staffs they crack
I’m winded and wounded and left for dead
But I’m a derelict now; I secured my feast
I have stolen some bread
Wayfarer
Wayfarer,
I’m sure you’d be way fairer
had you studied sleight of hand
Recovery Comes Quick
When you black out in the alleys
Behind the house of a homoeopathic banner
You dream of trees, mushrooms, and berries
And wake in the fields with rations full
There are fairies in the air at dusk
That glow and ebb to darkness
Distance
I have gone the farthest I’ve ever gone
Far from my father and his throne
And I cannot see a reason to stop now
Agehood of a Man
My lip is split and eye is dark
I stand cliffside and yell into open void
I am beat and broken
And even more alive for it