The mountain top was my sanctuary, my refuge. I had but to reach the pinnacle and my broken and bruised body could finally rest. Nearing complete exhaustion, I pushed on as my eyes beheld the temple entrance—the last beacon of hope in the war-ravaged land. The legendary tome I had in my possession was highly coveted by powerful and evil forces, and it was far too valuable to let fall into their hands.
As I pushed on, I was seized upon by a fear so powerful and palpable that I froze, not believing what stared down at me from the temple's roof. A host of sinister, enormous red and black dragons, their baleful eyes piercing my very soul. I knew they were after the tome I carried, and I knew the world would be forever plunged into darkness and chaos should they obtain it. However, I could do nothing. Their magical grasp was too enthralling, too strong.
They quickly lost interest in me, as hundreds and hundreds of dragons flew up the mountain side to my aid! Their majesty and beauty enveloped the sky, their wings creating a tornado of emotions I could not comprehend. I fell to my knees and witnessed the most epic and majestic struggle since the creation of this world. Hundreds of dragons, both evil and good, flew at each other, wielding fangs, claws, and deadly magic. I made for cover behind the rocks, and listened in utter amazement at the sounds of death falling from the sky. The cacophony of sounds exploded into the very heavens. Mortals like myself should not have the capacity to witness such an event yet witness it I did, and, after the seemingly endless struggle final came to climax, the majestic dragons of good came to me.
I wept, not having strength for anything else. Their leader, the most majestic and pure looking dragon of them all, bore me up and flew me to the temple's entrance. I was amazed it still stood after the epic battle, but it's walls were untarnished, albeit flame of every color struck its walls repeatedly.
The tome was safe . . . and with it the world.
Sacado de la cabeza de
- Poeta de Tinta Ciega
- Gijón, Asturias, Spain
- A Broken Word is something you think in your heart but your mind refuses to allow to be spoken out loudly. Para cualquier duda/comentario/sugerencia/propuesta, podéis enviar un e-mail a firstname.lastname@example.org o buscarme en tuenti y facebook como Fabri Perez Fernandez y también podéis seguirme en Twitter (https://twitter.com/blindinkpoet) y Tumblr (http://fabridracul89.tumblr.com/)
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miércoles, 29 de agosto de 2012
miércoles, 22 de agosto de 2012
If you have a mind to be a champion, be quiet in a great man's house; be surly in the narrow pass.
Do not beat your hound without cause; do not bring a charge against your wife without having knowledge of her guilt; do not hurt a fool in fighting, for he is without his wits.
Do not find fault with high-up persons; do not stand up to take part in a quarrel; have no dealings with a bad man or a foolish man.
Let two-thirds of your gentleness be shown to women, and to little children that are creeping on the floor, and to men of learning that make the poems, and do not be rough with the common people.
Do not give your reverence to all; do not be ready to have one bed with your companions.
Do not threaten or speak big words, for it is a shameful thing to speak stiffly unless you can carry it out afterwards.
Do not forsake your lord so long as you live; do not give up any man that puts himself under your protection for all the treasures of the world.
Do not speak against others to their lord, that is not work for a good man.
Do not be a bearer of lying stories, or a tale-bearer that is always chattering.
Do not be talking too much; do not find fault hastily; however brave you may be do not raise factions against you.
Do not be going into drinking-houses, or finding fault with old men; do not meddle with low people; this is right conduct I am telling you.
Do not refuse to share your meat; do not have a fool for a friend; do not force yourself on a great man or give him occasion to speak against you.
Hold fast to your arms till the last fight is well ended.
Do not give up your opportunity, but with that follow after gentleness.
- Fionn Mac Cumhail, leader of the Fianna, the elite warrior order of ancient Ireland