Of nights and long winters they’ve had their stories, traveling the seas of everlasting waves. Of broken moons and darkened skies they’ve wandered, seeking infuriating yet heartbreaking questions of life. They began to be weary, they began to be wary, they began to be angry. Oh, they began to be helplessly in doubt.
But when they arrived at a town, or even on a small village, they smile. The bard put up his guitar and starts to sing accolades. The poet will stand up, quietly rehearsing, and starts to monologue. And people will always clap their hands, enchanting duo’s name.
But they don’t have a name! nobody does.
Only known as “the bard and the poet”
for one night they share all their dreams and hopes and failures; their bittersweets.
and for one night, above most of nights they’ve spent on the road, they put up their mask, veiling their bitter lives.
before long, they’ve gone. away into mists of uncertainty, once again.
ajie
November 7, 2009
02:57 AM
