Legends of Belariath

Mozenwrathe

Day By Glistening Day - Rather Than Above The Ocean

*For a jeweler, Nápoldë has always allowed her creativity to go past her work with fine metals and gemstones. She tends to love spending time writing when she is not working on a commission or an inspired work. Her collection of old parchments with some of her works on them she keeps in a special heavy box. Not that she shares them too often with others, however. It is mostly an audience of her lover, the slaves of their shoppe, and a choice friend or two. Some of her works have origin in the legends told to her back when she was but a child. Many of her writings are inspired by her day-yo-day encounters with the townsfolk of Valencia. Her fingers are also very good with the lyre and the kalimba - an instrument she discovered when trading with merchants from the desert lands far south.*

Day By Glistening Day - Rather Than Above The Ocean
by Nápoldë Númenessë, high elven jeweler

and as the blanket that was day's end
floated over the blissful horizon
did I know that once more would I know
that horrors that was the reverie
as in nights once my blessing from work
were now filled with strangeness and woe

this world that was behind my eyes
no longer mine to control and shape
instead debaucheries alien to my heart
and cruelties once forgotten
both center stage and performed
for their captive audience of one

could I not free myself of ivy bonds
wrapping around me within forest of fear
shards of volcanic glass tickling upwards
as a mirror image of myself
except all of precious stone and rare earths
licking its way up my thighs and hips
then shattering once it got to my ribcage
filling me with shards and agony

yet was the parade of pain not over
for my mind still had more places for me
to visit again though were they forever lost
as I had forsaken any right to my one time home
the moment I bid them all farewell
that final time with blood in my eyes
and my hair bound with silver and sinew

resourceful is my deeper dreaming demon
having me walk though my old village
with the bodies of all I left behind
animated like parodies of marionettes
eyes missing and chests filled with worms
arrows still smoking and arms missing
conversing like it was an average morning
all waving to me with open jaws
voices singing to me in marvelous choir
all the while ravens plucking at their shoulders

before I can turn into maddened maiden
raving in sorrow at my fallen world
does chasm open below my feet
making me fall upwards into the skies
for me to crash into a glorious phoenix
speaking to me in voice of my grandmother
asking me if this is what I truly wanted
to flee a land of relaxing reclusion
into a world so vast and merciless
that all may victimize you at will
calling it a just and noble act

it is here where the tears start to flow
and my heart is torn asunder
my sobbing floods this inner world
a wish for all to be just as it was
before I left what was all I knew before
then do I remember my love
and the friendships I have made
allowing me to rise from the reverie
a little stronger than before

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