Post by Blackie on Oct 13, 2009 22:11:12 GMT -5
Fare thee well
Trade in all our words for tea and sympathy
Wonder why we tried, for things that could never be
Play our hearts lament, like an unrehearsed symphony
Night fell over their part of the world, the cold silver moon bleaching the black to a mystical blue. The trees, bushes, tiny flowers all dyed by the evening color. Crickets hummed, the cold weather weakening their chirruping at the dark hour when everything rested except for the timid and the bold. Strange coincidence that the easily frightened night scavengers neighbored their hunting hour with fierce things. Things that might even be contemplating evilness. They hid beneath the cloak of night to better master their harbored hate and corruption. Stealing and preying on creatures in their weakest state of peaceful slumber. Hateful things, that they would sneak up on others in such a cowardly way when their victims were unwarned and defenseless.
Goldburn sighed, hanging his head and blinking eyes filled with sadness. His handsome coat was also highlighted by the moon, masking the gloom that shrouded his generally prideful face. Thymeheart often begged him not to wander over here. She said it was against the warrior code, and mouse-brained besides. Because it only made him miserable to come here.
He came often, always hoping to catch even the smallest glimpse of her weaving through the trees she now called home. It was all that Goldburn could do not to dash in after her. Why couldn't she have stayed here with him, even if he hadn't learned to love her yet when she had left RiverClan with her sister. You wouldn't love her if you were allowed to, Thymeheart had once snapped at him when, once again, they had quarreled about Goldburn's lovesick desire to go back to the river. Yes, I would! I'll always love her. But how fleeting was Shatteredmirror?
His bones were beginning to ache from lying on the rocky shore. How long had it been since he'd left camp? The moon had been lying just above the eastern trees when he'd padded off. Now it was moonhigh, maybe a little later. The silver glow blurred his tired vision, making it hard to determine where the moon was exactly. Oh, well, it was late. Too late to be sitting out here doing nothing but feeling pitiful for himself.
The muscular tom stood up, stretching luxuriously. Each leg was pulled in turn until he felt the joints loosen. Then he arched his back, lifting high onto his toes and curving his spine into a peak. After a brisk shake, the tom was ready to go back home. A reed nest lined with moss would be much more comfortable than the jabbing, pointing stones. He cast one last, long look across the border before turning.
Maybe it was better this way.
. . . Not . . .
Not intend
To leave this castle full of empty rooms
Our love the captive in the tower never rescued
And all the victory songs
Seem to be playing out of tune
lyrics by Jars of Clay ~ Tea and Sympathy
Trade in all our words for tea and sympathy
Wonder why we tried, for things that could never be
Play our hearts lament, like an unrehearsed symphony
Night fell over their part of the world, the cold silver moon bleaching the black to a mystical blue. The trees, bushes, tiny flowers all dyed by the evening color. Crickets hummed, the cold weather weakening their chirruping at the dark hour when everything rested except for the timid and the bold. Strange coincidence that the easily frightened night scavengers neighbored their hunting hour with fierce things. Things that might even be contemplating evilness. They hid beneath the cloak of night to better master their harbored hate and corruption. Stealing and preying on creatures in their weakest state of peaceful slumber. Hateful things, that they would sneak up on others in such a cowardly way when their victims were unwarned and defenseless.
Goldburn sighed, hanging his head and blinking eyes filled with sadness. His handsome coat was also highlighted by the moon, masking the gloom that shrouded his generally prideful face. Thymeheart often begged him not to wander over here. She said it was against the warrior code, and mouse-brained besides. Because it only made him miserable to come here.
He came often, always hoping to catch even the smallest glimpse of her weaving through the trees she now called home. It was all that Goldburn could do not to dash in after her. Why couldn't she have stayed here with him, even if he hadn't learned to love her yet when she had left RiverClan with her sister. You wouldn't love her if you were allowed to, Thymeheart had once snapped at him when, once again, they had quarreled about Goldburn's lovesick desire to go back to the river. Yes, I would! I'll always love her. But how fleeting was Shatteredmirror?
His bones were beginning to ache from lying on the rocky shore. How long had it been since he'd left camp? The moon had been lying just above the eastern trees when he'd padded off. Now it was moonhigh, maybe a little later. The silver glow blurred his tired vision, making it hard to determine where the moon was exactly. Oh, well, it was late. Too late to be sitting out here doing nothing but feeling pitiful for himself.
The muscular tom stood up, stretching luxuriously. Each leg was pulled in turn until he felt the joints loosen. Then he arched his back, lifting high onto his toes and curving his spine into a peak. After a brisk shake, the tom was ready to go back home. A reed nest lined with moss would be much more comfortable than the jabbing, pointing stones. He cast one last, long look across the border before turning.
Maybe it was better this way.
. . . Not . . .
Not intend
To leave this castle full of empty rooms
Our love the captive in the tower never rescued
And all the victory songs
Seem to be playing out of tune
lyrics by Jars of Clay ~ Tea and Sympathy
