the aesthetic of being sunderedi had picked up my favoritethe aesthetic of being sundered by seaboundstars
vase, thin fingers
sliding across painted sides,
when i realized we are the same.
we are too feeble, too exquisite
for we are composed of ceramic.
i am calm when the vase
peppers the floor, its
sharp edges approaching my feet.
but i am not done.
the slick red contrasts
with the light grey and i
am careful to remove every trace.
"we are broken," i say
"but we can be repaired for
gold dust will seal our
fragmented frames and emphasize
that this is a minuscule event.
we have use yet."
The Sea's LamentI sit at the hearth, in some rat filled tavern. I drown my sorrows in the vinegar that the man behind the bar dares to call wine. I am numb to the world. The tides sings in my veins but I ignore it. Another night passes and I have not moved from my seat. People in the room stare furtively through the hearth smoke, and whisper that I am not of this world. The barman keeps them from me for the moment, for he is well paid in forgotten coins. My reverie is interrupted by a sailor, the wine heavy on his breath. He suggests obscenity and I ignore him. He reaches for my arm and I flee the tavern, his face a picture of shock at my dissolution. I seek a place of deeper solitude, far from all sailors.The Sea's Lament by Norrolith
I find myself growing fond of being incarnate, the simplicity of finite vision. I settle in a port that hadn't felt my steps before. I know the language without speaking it before. A room which faces the land lets me forget. I wander the streets, the bustle soothing. The market I learn has it's own