Som'lorea

I find allegorical writing much easier at times. Words seem difficult and elusive, so I resort to writings of imagery. My mind has been weary. Floods of information have bashed its defenses down, leaving little left over. It is the beauty of being undone, I suppose; in the same way that one would furrow the soil of a wealthy king for the sowing of his seed.

I am not that clever though; I am a much better cup than a gadfly, canvas, or rube. Even cups have their place in a home: up high on shelves of filigreed metal and carved wood, or atop counters made of heavenly wisdom, the ether of design. We are all a rarified beauty though, gadfly, canvas, rube and cup alike. Thank God, too, that we live beneath such great halls.

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