Fiction, Personal, Writing|

Last night, like most nights, I felt like writing. I couldn’t come up with much, but I was thinking about the song, “Rains of Castamere” and singing it in my head. That’s when I came up with the snippet below and posted it to Facebook.

A post from Facebook

An artist friend of mine named Chris, (you can find his work here) commented on it, and so as I went to bed, it played out in my head a bit more. You can read the rest of what I came up with below.

And who are you to tell me that I cannot fly? That broken wings are the purview of my lost humanity? That I, without fire in my veins could never rise into the night sky and soar into the arms of tomorrow?

But now I tell you, just us two, that the world is skewed towards those of my ilk. Too true, you and yours seem to hold all the cards. Wielding power and influence like lost sages in the dark. A darkness illuminated only by the candle that I carry. Without that cold blue flame you would die in a pile of gibbering sycophants; wearing a million dollar suit that saved you from naught.

My life is but a flicker; easily snuffed out. But the darkness… it is no friend of yours. We who have faced down our demons are aware of the landscape, and we cannot fall here. But you can, and you will. Come the sunrise you will be forgotten. A relic of yesterday, a casualty of your own progress.

One Reply to “The coming morning”

  1. Chris says:

    Dude, this reminds me of a revelation I had, once. I realized that those in power, are feeble old men around a fire, and we are the wolves at the door. Darkness is coming for the old world, if we only rise to meet the new day, together. Nice stuff, man. Nice stuff.

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