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Dismantled ~ Canto 5

The weight of his Mantle’s deceit
Burdened Emindor with the need
To counter-act such deeds of spite
And cruelty with deeds of right.
Yet none of his fellow Mirkem
Wished to speak of the world beyond.
Many had joined as last resort
To ‘scape the world and then forget.
Seldom allowed beyond the wall,
Emindor knew nothing at all
Of why they would desire to flee
From freedom into slavery.
Into the courtyard the next day
Emindor walked, thinking how may-
Be if he were to breach the fence
He might slip out and take the chance
To lend a hand in something good,
To help and heal where’er he could.
Within the shadow of the hall,
Beside the door, beneath the wall
Thaelon was sitting, cloaked in gray
With naught to do and naught to say.
His brooding silence, at this time,
Appealed to Emindor’s grim mind,
And he seated himself beside
The man who neither quit nor tried.
“My friend,” Emindor began,
“I beg your counsel, if I can.”
Thaelon just stirred and nod his head,
“Beg if you really must,” he said.
“I know that you, of all this crew
Understand what we really do,
And all its base futility
E’en as we trick ourselves to see
Our actions in the light of good
When we do what we never would
Were we beyond that wall and gate,”
Emindor gestured, “We would hate
Ourselves for what we are and do.
I do not love this life, nor you.
I know this, so I ask your aid.
Where might I find a way to trade
My little time for good action;
Begin to right the wrong I’ve done?”
Emindor sighed and looked away;
“I’m weary of this foul play.”
The silence echoed for a space
And sunlight beamed into that place,
The courtyard, till it smoked with gold,
As much heat as the sand could hold.
At last, “The kind of work you seek . . .
It is not clear. To help the weak
Or find another source of fame
In something that’s outside the game?”
Thaelon asked, never did look
In Emindor’s face as he spoke.
“Because I know not what’s beyond,”
Emindor began slow, “I find
It hard to clearly state my dream,
Things may not be the way they seem
From here. I know the tales of old
And how the heroes – it is told –
Of ages past were selfless, brave
And feared neither pain nor the grave.
Their mission was for good of men.
I wish to be what they have been.”
“Emindor,” Thaelon said, “You are
A strange young man. Even stranger
That after all the vice you’ve seen
You still aspire to this dream.”
He sighed, “But you will not stay long
Holding this dream, for all the wrong
Will blast you, punish for your quest
And give you neither room nor rest
Until you have surrendered to
The Master’s will, as all men do.”
Emindor shook his head and spoke:
“I know that other men have broke
And better men than me, ‘tis true
And though I can’t know what I’d do,
I know this dream is more than life
To me. I will not yield. No knife
Nor whip, nor brand, nor agony
Can quench the living dream in me.”
Emindor’s eyes were lit with gold
And such a marvel to behold
Was the passion of thought for grace
Which beamed like sunlight from his face
It testified more than a shout
And slew a bit of Thaelon’s doubt.
Standing, Thaelon gazed ‘cross the yard
Then looking at Emindor hard,
His eyes narrowed and their dark gaze
Searching the younger man’s bright face
At last he sighed and nodded slow
“A little time, I’ll let you know.”
Then walked away, left Emindor
With a drop more hope than before.
Emindor felt his heart elate,
“A little time? I’ve learned to wait.”

Style / type: 
Structured: Western
Review Request (Intensity): 
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Review Request (Direction): 
How was my language use?
What did you think of the rhythm or pattern or pacing?
Is the internal logic consistent?
Last few words: 
Looks like Emindor is beginning to solve his problem, but is Thaelon really to be trusted? We'll have to see. (no, I have not written the next Canto yet XD)
Editing stage: 
Content level: 
Not Explicit Content


Now I do really need to see Braveheart, because apparently this reminds everyone of Braveheart. XD
Thank you so much for your compliments and continuing to read. It is the greatest compliment you could pay me to just read my half-baked works. Thank you so much.
And the endings are like that very purposefully. I probably spend more time thinking them up than anything else inside the work.

"To reveal art and conceal the artist is art's true aim." Oscar Wilde

author comment

Ha, if I told you the ending of Emindor, that would equal the most devastating spoiler. As I am writing this story with pieces of prose between (and posting elsewhere), I will insert a shard of that here:
“Did he not end well?”
“If you were Emindor, you would think he ended best. If you were of the the saner remainder of the world, you would not think so.”
And I doubt any producer ever would do that, as this sort of story seems to have been told countless times before. I write what I wish to read, and most of the gladiator stories seem to have been told in film, not poetry. Enter 'Dismantled'. ;)
Thank you so much for continuing to read, Mr. Jerry. I am honored.

"To reveal art and conceal the artist is art's true aim." Oscar Wilde

author comment

That I don't seem to have any help for, you have written it as well as I might have. ~ Geez.

It seems that the days and hours that people
are available for chatroom are staggered and
not a good match for most everyone. How about
if everyone just shows up at the door, whenever
they have a few free minutes?

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