Dressed in the fervent breeze and idyllic margins of morning. Dancing upon the plasma between dream and sleep. Mixing elixirs of Majesty and ministration. Into the twilight we soared, iridescent feathers flailing toward stars to capture light as tapestry. Meadow spoke and yelled at rain for coming lightly. Into deluge of dawn the forest welcomed the silken black of summer’s night. Our minds ran on fueled mosaic and wonder.

Clapped twice, that the night would give way to sentry, posting partizans in pageantry twice cocked the crow in steeping. Yet we did not run but hid nonetheless from the prison of cowards and wisdom. Fear drove us forward as if mad to the hills, cupboards and caves of our imagined safety. Lost to the felled swoop and the swollen nightmare we touched our flesh as the wounded. Keeping in-between here and there we found no period for sentence. Naked we answered not the King’s request in sounding.

Folly ventured and beauty resistant to capture, we plodded home, hooded weeping for the loss of bag or bounty. Oh, how merciless this age that gives not plumb nor succor to thirsty frown. In brigands gaze we found the maze and sought the best of what all are after. Finding nothing but rusty granite and poisoned waters we dare not swim for our freedom. Lying low we sow the seeds of weakness, hate and crazed mind. Singly loudly as we whispered hoping the prisoners would pass us.

Twice mastered, once clinging to the cliff face to take yonder castle. To keep what we stole and peer as voyeur at the plenty. Not invited by pledge, promise or courage we raided that which was found open and pried loose all that could be plucked from the marrow by bone or arrow. There is no hero of passion, no soldier with fortune and no servant who wants more than nothing. Into the hills we disappeared seeking solace and healing on the dark side of the mountain. By morning the warnings were over and our sad sullen daydream a historical tear filled with madness.