Thursday, 5 May 2011

A Hermit's Tale

Far, far in the distance
Was a castle
Three stages tall
Its fringe a bridgeless moat
Of foamy, colourless river

Crushing surf impeded his journey
A sandy, footprint-less stretch
Glassy exterior layering a rocky core
Smooth, its surface shuns lasting touch

Skipping when he could
Crawling every when else
The construct looming closer
A lighthouse and a beacon
A red, fiery eye of hope
To sailors sailing blind
In rough seas, on tougher lands

A sudden crush of waves
Like a battering ram, pummeling
Lifting him in the air
A spineless doll crumpling
In a momentary heap, of topsy and turvy seconds
Amidst rocks, rubble and pebbles
Still he pushes, strongly he recovers

He stammers along gaily
Skipping the edges of craters fleeting
Watery graves, victims unsuspecting
Not he, not today, not easily

A touch away was his aim
Rocky, solid walls
A slight grainy texture
No windows no doors
A crooked pole, silent flagless
What manner of home, he thinks, so steep in blandness

A sudden laughter
From a giant of a shadowy figure
A thundery slamming, wrecking, ruining
Once a castle now a razed nothing

Startled, he stops dead in his tracks
As the air is filled with laughter and wails
A world of bullies and frails
A similar, revolving, revolting tale

Once a dream a hope no more
As a hermit turns its tail.

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