History of the Ælfar – Part I (Prose)

Note: This is an excerpt from a larger project that I have been working on for many years concerning the mythical and legendary history of Britain.

Excerpt from

Antiqua
Historia Britanniae

(The Ancient History of Britannia)

by Emrys of Carmarthen (c 390 CE)

Edited by John W. Leys

They came from beyond the horizon, perhaps traveling on sunbeams across the heavens, and settled beyond the north wind. The Eldar, the elder races, who inhabited these lands long before the advent of mankind. Tall and slight of build their delicate features radiate an unexpected sense of power, intelligence, and beauty. Though they are said to have a lifespan several times that of a man, their lives are said to be significantly shorter than their forbearers, who were said to be practically immortal, barring accidents. Whether this is due to, as some claim, interbreeding with mankind, or merely a sign
of entropy’s ever-increasing hold on our world is ultimately unknown. Called the Ælfar, a name thought to be related to the Latin word album (white) due to their pale complexion and the glow they radiate, their ultimate origin is a mystery, even, it would seem, to themselves.

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Disconnected

Disconnected,
Adrift in the gray.
Bright colors of life
Muted by dense fog,
Murmuring voices
Talking around
And through,
But never to me.

Seeking, searching,
Screaming out
In silent prayer
To be seen,
To be heard,
To be healed.

6/21-6/22/18

Vacuums and Scars

A living nightmare
From which I cannot wake.
Coming apart at tge seems
Like an ill made scarecrow
Left in the weather too long,
Portions of my past
Falling away to dust,
Leaving sucking black
Vacuums,
Bending light,
Distorting everything they touch.

Souls slipping away
One by one.
Time’s tragedy:
Entropy increases.
Some vanish quickly,
Some fade over time,
Still here,
But not the same.
All leave black void scars
Like the aftermath
Of open heart surgery.

6/14-6/20/18

Sweet Surrender

The world can
Wear you down,
Like a slow steady stream
Of liquid bullshit
Grinding granite to sand,
Over the years
With obligations, obstacles,
And obstructions,
Violence, destruction,
And hatred,
Egotism, isolation,
and dumb-fuckery.

Even just surviving
Every day
Can be too much
A burden to bear.
Weighing down
Like a fifty pound rucksack
On a 10 mile march
Through the Missouri wilderness
Under 95º sunshine,
Sweat stinging your eyes,
Salt water on your lips,
Burning between shoulder blades,
Pain spreading out
Like cracks through a windshield.

How easy it would be
To drop the sack,
Fall down
In sweet relief,
And surrender.

6/8-6/12/18

Stand and Fall

Death bookends all life
Darkness borders the light
Silence follows every sound
Blankness every verse.
Oblivion catches all who fall,
And all who stand must fall.

6/7/18

Dry Bones – a Haiku

Valley of dry bones
The breath of life in the wind
Life is born of death

The Hard Truth (a Troilet)

Everything born must die,
Everything started must end.
No one will ever truly know why,
Everything born must die.
Salt stains skin from tears we cry,
Silence answers the prayers we send.
Everything born must die,
Everything started must end.

6/4/18

Alone (a tyburn)

Alone
Disown
Dethrone
Condone

Left alone, virtually disowned
Dethroned by the sin none could condone.

6/4/18

My first attempt at a Tyburn.