Lena
hope is the thing with feathers
that perches in the soul
that perches in the soul
Let it be known that Lena was not in any way, shape, or form, a fighter.
Maybe of beliefs and justices, of point of views and the animals that walked beneath the canopied gardens of the Celestine, but she wouldn’t have the first clue about weaponry. About defenses. About shields.
But her eyes followed the path of the Dragoons as they trained, as they wielded swords, as they pierced against targets. She traced over the rolling tides of their companions, billowing smoke, fire, ash, lightning, and ice – and the only concept that wasn’t foreign to her were those creatures themselves.
So she advanced, bringing a bandage to where her aid had been requested – watching, absentmindedly, as she talked with the warrior and cooed to their fledgling, posturing reassurances all the more.
Maybe of beliefs and justices, of point of views and the animals that walked beneath the canopied gardens of the Celestine, but she wouldn’t have the first clue about weaponry. About defenses. About shields.
But her eyes followed the path of the Dragoons as they trained, as they wielded swords, as they pierced against targets. She traced over the rolling tides of their companions, billowing smoke, fire, ash, lightning, and ice – and the only concept that wasn’t foreign to her were those creatures themselves.
So she advanced, bringing a bandage to where her aid had been requested – watching, absentmindedly, as she talked with the warrior and cooed to their fledgling, posturing reassurances all the more.
and sings the tune without the words
and never stops at all
and never stops at all
