writing The Prince Rises

[Pan the Fabulous Ferret 2,642]

Remembering those events that bring a form of grief.

Immeasurable sadness portrayed in the inner graces of words.

Such is what was meant to be said, but never told.

Unto these words are a deeper meaning than ever delved by such wantings.

I myself am among the damned and willing for such.

 

Why is it that we cry, not in unity but seldom wanted.

I ask for an answer of better reasoning, such that would end grief bestowed.

Such would be my forgiveness.

Such would end the wanting of a single tear.

 

I only ask to end which I myself will in the end have brought about.

If only I knew that simpler means of glory were less prejudice than others, If only I knew.

Alas, by old tales and legends commence, such was not of my knowing.

By such lesser feeling, I had discovered an end to my intristic nature.

With such knowledge evident, it was only by natural means that I forsake my own soul.

 

Forsake, understood, and forevermore disposed of.

And with the ounce of humanity that remained ever so diligently, I laid no harm on my heart.

This, only achieved by strength that sahll only ever exist in the potency of fate itself.

With no reserve of inner want left to hinder my stride, I set forth.

None who entered the live of a prince were ever left understanding.

Such is the way of words, and the beginning of a story.

 

 

 

-David Favret