“What Is This Quintessence Of Dust?”
A set of haikus
It has long been said
(More eloquently than this):
We’re dust in the wind.
Blood’s water; we kiss
Segments of eternity ,
With what fire we find.
Quintessentially,
We are not Prometheus –
All matter is dead.
But our spirit’s fed:
Elements of majesty.
This is humankind.
About the Creator
Tristan Stone
Tristan read Theology at Cambridge university before training to be a teacher. He has published plays, poetry and prose (non-fiction and fiction) and is working on the fourth volume of his YA "Time's Fickle Glass" series.
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The Road to Nowhere
Trigger warnings: Violence, Death. "May the Sun burn your tongue out, woman," Fredrick's father screamed the curse into his mother's ear as their elegant little carriage rumbled along, its polished wood and gilded trim glinting in the torchlight. They had just left the small village of Saffron and were on an unnamed road to the capital for the Royal wedding. Fredrick leaned back in his plush velvet seat to escape into the passing landscape, but across from him sat the servant boy, a scrappy lad named Jack. Jack's eyes held a mixture of awe and fear, the kind that only a commoner could feel in the presence of nobility. Jack looked up and caught Fredrick's gaze, offering him a sad little smile before reaching into his pocket and retrieving a little caramel treat. This candy was no doubt stolen from the kitchen treat cupboard; if he was caught with it, he would be locked in the box as punishment.
By Frank English3 days ago in Fiction
Comments (1)
Well said!