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I search for the crown.
A glittering nuisance, it dances before me,
my blind hands unable to grasp its evasive structure.
The thought of its beauty is sweet, delightful,
convenient. But to actually possess it is unimaginable.
How my heroes are able to function with its brilliant shine
relentlessly bombarding their forms I cannot know,
and I will not know until I can find strength enough to
go toward the palace and away from the village that is
saturated with desire.
Though once I find myself halfway, I cannot go on in either direction.
The fatigue of the journey traps me in the
gloomy meadow, and this is the only place that I am
able, and willing, to rest.
It is here that I can see that my obsession limits me, that my search for the
royal sensibilities has prevented my fledgling desires from finding satisfaction.
Immediacy is now what preoccupies me.
Not immediacy of obtaining the crown, but of fulfilling my desires.
The brevity of my life consumes me like a viral infection, eating away at
every facet of my consciousness until I am forced to action.
Opportunity is abundant, and I am thriving in my village.
Where I am, no crown is necessary.
Yet I can’t help but wonder where mine is,
for the hollow point rings on, undeterred by my extensive attempts to escape it.
If only to assuage my sudden onset of frustration, I concede to my prior journey and
sulk toward the palace with the timidity of a wilted rose. I reason to pass through
my meadow because its practicality seems unreasonable and unwarranted.
The alluring warm glow fills my heart and mind from outside the walls,
and once inside, I welcome the crown into my lonely,
aimless paws. I place it upon my head, and a panicked sensation engulfs me.
It does not fit.
As I flee, the meadow does not boast its supreme intelligence, but brings me into the folds of its fields and allows me to take refuge there for the duration.