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Relics of Chaldari'aun

by Leandra K Brossard

Amidst the creaking timbers
and the fluttering of last years faded leaves
the wind calls emptily and longing..

Amist the filthy hallways
and the softly dripping eaves
the pitter pat of careful feet echoes..

Deep within Chaldari'aun a beating heart treads softly
merciless and cunning in its haste
it steps among the shadows as with its closest friends
winding ever deeper, toward the prizes sought..

Pitter pat, pitter pat, pause.. drip drip..
pitter, pitter, pitter, pitter pat..
Step step, pause step.. pause..
Bright eyes open in the shadow..
flashing once, twice,
they narrow on a glimmer not so far away..

A bowl, turned out of soft blue wood,
delicate and priceless in it's antiquity,
silver lining winking in stray wisps of light,
pearls swimming lazily within..

A swath of rarest Moonsilk sweeps across the table,
gentle folds framing further treasures long forgotten,
potent symbols cover it, rich with meaning no one any longer knows,
edged in silver anyone would covet..

Many broken aged scrolls lay in tatters,
clinging valiantly to their dowels in part
but mostly blown away,
scraps of colorful decorations still upon them..

Twin Goblets set with blue green stones
stand regally, watching over their surroundings
mute to their fate or that of their brethren..

In an instant a sack is open beneath the table's edge,
quick hands passing back and forth
as the winking silver items disappear within..

The sudden clanging of a goblet shatters the silent air
as a figure floats ominously from the darkness,
swathed half in black and half in white,
silent silver bells hang from her garments..

The hands freeze above the forgotten goblet
and the bright eyes widen and back away
slipping into the shadows once again,
rapid footfalls echoing carelessly in the darkness..

A tragic face floats down,
pale and traced with silver tears
silent bells hang motionless, waiting..
She carefully places the relics back into their ancient home,
smoothes the Moonsilk across the table
and rights the goblets once again..

Relics of a better time,
Relics of a people scattered,
Relics of untold potential,
all that remains of Home.

06/06/2004

Posted on 06/06/2004
Copyright © 2024 Leandra K Brossard

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