11-03-2007, 03:04 PM
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| Tamerlane considered the graveyard for a long time. It was perhaps a tribute to his liberalism that he did not dwell on what many would in this situation; the inevitability of death. There it lay, death everywhere, but all Tamerlane could think of was how unfair it was that corpses should be disrespected in this manner. Surrounded by unnatural lavishness, instead of being faced by the true and lasting inexorableness that was the grit and grime of death. Growing rotten, alone, in the ground. Physically disappearing to nothing. The high stench of the lifeless. That was death, and he found the pragmatism of it all beautiful. Leaning forward and resting both wrists on his knees, he squinted up towards the sanguine sun. Darkly silhouetted, a stranger approached him and considered him with a cool red gaze. The stranger was not tall, but he was a jaggedly princely buck, with wild hair and the odd scar that shone like daylight under the radar of the sunset. Tamerlane nodded his greeting briefly. Because he was currently so involved in his own philosophies, it made sense to the trim young traveller that were strangers to speak to him, they would contribute to the thoughts of the graveyard. The ability of nature to incorporate deformity into itself is beautiful, despite all its rust and decay, he said hazily. Do you think that too, or is it just me? |