Those who see only the bright are blind in one eye. They spot what shines, dazzles, and charms, then sulk when those gems die. Chasing the gems, they travel through the blitz. Great distances, they sail, just to see one more thing glitz. Flowers, living ones, they say, and not the wilted, dried up ones. Fluffy, soft cotton candy, they say, and not the bitter, subtle brandy. So, child, is it any surprise they should walk straight past you? A hundred cries, they’ve dismissed as roars. A thousand sobs, they’ve rejected as hiccups. A million sighs, they’ve brushed off as the breeze. For glory and victory, unity and Trinity, they’re willing to sacrifice all the world’s low. For laughter and banter, master and platter-chatter, they’re willing to offer up all the world’s roe. That which rots and blemishes from life, they go and wreck. That which clots and perishes from blood, they treat as dreck. So, is it any surprise they overlooked you like smoke? Is it so perplexing they threw over you a cloke? You know the answer, child. That’s why you’re here. Through shade and gloom you’ve come, just to meet me, the seer. For I hear the million sighs as a million sighs— —I do not dismiss them. For I hear the thousand sobs as a thousand sobs— —I do not reject them. For I most definitely hear the hundred cries as a hundred cries— —and I do not dare brush them off. Therefore, I see. The acrimony and agony, gravity and galaxy— —I see, I see. The ranter and recanter, supplanter and enchanter— —I see, I see. When you grieve, I will not call you ugly. When you ache, I will not call you weak. When you break, I will not call you sick. So come, my child. Let me take you where flowers wilt freely and wine distills madly. Come with me to the place where blood flows openly and life sings wildly. There, embrace me—for you are one of us. You aren’t blind in one eye. Let them cloke the smoke. Let them chase shine, dazzle, and charm. I will teach you to outshine the shine outdazzle the dazzle outcharm the charm with all the shade and gloom all sighs, sobs, and cries until you burst first, then fill the second. Until you turn a sword third, then join the last.
© 2022 Ithaka O.
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This story is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
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