The grandest of tales succumbs not in castles,
the joyous victors of the spoils turns not it into a loot.
Once an orphan
twice the tale
finally to compare and not to contrast.
A tale of old lore of mythic strength and emotionally drained one,
takes the love of the art and keeps forging it until it makes him more legendary as it is not his epic one, it is imbued to him as one ancient lore itself.
He takes a challenge to lure that wyrm,
gets the spoils,
hears the tragedy of a valkyrie,
makes her as his queen of life.
Yet in turmoil so much so Society wants to conform up on the objective greed of it all and none to the one who gave it up but not only to fit.
Objects symbolizes what we see in it,
yet the love of subjectified reincarnations has its losses and gains.
Such is the tale of reforging a heart only at the end to burn again and again.
About the Creator
A Flower Song
Apparently the Aztecs, Toltecs, Chichimecs and other Mexica were crazy about poetry. Despite the book-burning, slaughter, and epidemics that characterized the early stages of the Spanish conquest of the empires of Mexico, some hundreds of poems from the height of their tradition come down to us in Classical Nahuatl, preserved by Nahua and Spanish scholars of the 16th century. One of the most famous poets, Nezahualcoyotl, was a sage-king who opposed the cult of human sacrifice associated with Tezcatlipoca, God of the Smoking Mirror, and favored Quetzalcoatl, the Feathered Serpent. Flowers and feathers were the favorite offering of the Plumed Serpent. Moreover, flowers and feathers are a metaphor for poetry. Individual words, scattered petals, the down of tropical birds. The temples of blood sacrifice could be transformed into temples of flower and song. A sublimated offering to the Heart of Earth and the Heart of Sky encapsulated in the Classical Nahuatl kenning for poetry: in xōchitl in cuīcatl, meaning, "the flower and the song." The following poem is part of a longer work, and is in a state of flux, so take the waters as they flow:
By Rob Angeli6 days ago in Poets
Standing Still
There are very few moments in life where time truly stands still. When your breath is taken from your chest and your body hangs weightless in that moment. Just long enough for it to stay with you from that day onwards. Deep in the red sands of the Australian Outback, I found that moment and clung to it forever.
By Kevin McLaughlin6 days ago in Wander
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