thoughts by Pen-Guin.

Sitting here on the edge.

Light slithers in with the wind.

I can hear droplets collapsing affar.

As the oil falls from my brow.

And I wonder.

If king, Why cave?

If queen. Why veils of darkness when due scarlet?

Sulfur in the air. No answer.

A promise that nothing is given.

Have I not done the work of fifty score?

If conquer, Why cower?

Emotions mixed as minerals.

Walls of my heart littered by deposits.

Pain in leu of parade.

Trembles where gold should lay.

Shadows whisper.

This cave a stone in your crown.

Ruby of opportunity.

Worthy of revel.

Entered with remorse.

Can't see arm's length.

You'll depart with reward.

Two shall rise. Four shall fall.

Now sit.

Cave then kingdom.

Rust then royalty.

Trust then triumph.

Sit.

Never lose this place.

Shed your garments of fear.

Boulders become balconies.

Puddles of mud, gobblets of wine.

Eat of the fruit that this silence bears.

A meal not many dare to taste.

The day will come when you give praise for this very cave.

 

 

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