Show pageOld revisionsBacklinksBack to top This page is read only. You can view the source, but not change it. Ask your administrator if you think this is wrong. ====== Faolán O’Fionn ====== There is a chipped, lilac mug of tea balanced somewhat precariously upon the arm of a well-worn armchair, which sits comfortably within the small, stone cottage on the outskirts of Anchor Rock. Its creator, one star-struck painter, greying and grinning, lingers silently in the doorway, gentle gaze resting upon the scene before him. Close beside is an ageing poet, the dull light of fireplace flames dancing across wrinkled, sun-tanned skin, and the pages of a leather-bound notebook held within cracked palm. Pages trickle through fingers, their contents echoing a life well-lived; graphite sketches, hastily-scribbled lists, plans of travel, poetry and confession and apology and pure, pure adoration. A blank sheet is found, at last, and ink is once more put to calling paper, spilling forth ruminations of a time long since passed. As hours pass, eyes grow weary, and our poet leans to place his final work at his feet. Faolán leans back in the chair, and holds an outstretched hand to the figure he knows still to be near. At once, Rider draws close, and the two allow a familiar quiet to blanket the home. The tea has grown cold, now. It matters not. ---- //to carry beyond// - faolán o’fionn it is something holy \\ something aching and sickly and bleeding \\ to be fleeting to die what could it mean \\ to hold a life eternal \\ to grasp the weeping stars \\ to wrench them from their nest \\ and simply \\ breathe on to watch the dancing mortals \\ limbs and hearts entangled \\ in rotten knots of desperate sorrow to uproot a thing once living and \\ tear asunder \\ cast aside but to watch those things, then \\ crawl and care and caress \\ to peck and pick and pet \\ til something beautiful stands quivering \\ wailing and squinting \\ yet singing still \\ in the bitter light of morning a creature born anew \\ shattered pieces forced together \\ held close with petals and poems and prose the thing knows, though \\ it cannot stay \\ whole and as fast as it is formed \\ it is apart \\ once more one becomes many and one all the same \\ ocean and sky may tear \\ finger from hand \\ limb from torso \\ feature from face but the thing \\ it is not shattered \\ it is not crumbling \\ it is one the thing bleeds \\ it aches \\ it retches one day \\ every part of it will die it will return to the earth \\ perhaps, \\ it is but the nature of a thing \\ so beautiful to be \\ so fleeting <fs small>//By Ace D.//</fs> faolan_o_fionn.txt Last modified: 10 months agoby gm_jasper