I look around
At the silence that beholds.
Seeing nothing,
Least not gold.
They said
I would find riches here.
But all I see,
Is the darkness near.
Light pours from my hands
softly illuminating what once was dark.
Crystals light up,
Reflecting, refracting,
In a blinding arc.
I cut off the stream
Of magicks,
And I notice,
Moonlight, pouring,
soft and pure, from
the sky.
A hole, in the cavern roof,
letting in this light,
crystals catching
the soft glow.
A hum of power,
They light up,
And a softer
Image emerged.
I spent much time in that cave,
meditating,
on the light that softly glows.
From crystal to crystal,
it goes, unburdened by
Mundus’s grasp.
The moon sets.
Twilight reaches through.
I leave,
Before I am blinded,
Once again.
They ask me if I found gold,
I smile and nod and shake my head,
Saying “I found a priceless treasure,
In the form of beauty.”
They grumble and complain,
Talk about mining it down.
But I simply smile,
Knowing,
When the time comes,
They will see the light that
Illuminated me.
Comments
meditating,
on the light that softly glows.
From crystal to crystal,
it goes, unburdened by
Mundus’s grasp.
I very much like this passage. My mind almost shrinks from it in a Lovec... more
1. Balanced, rhythmic flow, as of poetry or oratory.
2. The measure or beat of movement, as in dancing or marching.
3.
a. A falling inflection of the voice, as at the end of a sentence.
b. General inflection or modul... more
The grumble and complain,
Is it 'The' grumble or 'They'?