If I die, bury me neither in suns nor sands; bury me neither in water nor stars. Cremate not my body or allow it to decay. Throw it not into corners of the earth or allow animals to devour it. Bury my body in her open heart, so that she can remember me even when wrinkles cross her brows. Bury my body beneath her beauty and let it flourish it, because, from her appreciation of my being was where I regained the strength to write again.
Come brothers, I have found a river. No time for choppers, no time for buffers. No time for games, no time for covers. Let’s find our seats, no time for beavers. She ran into our garden of words and washed the meanings away. She rings our bells and says our names. I heard from Pace Setters she came, hurry up, we must find and trace her way. Waters, join my crew, you wont starve, I have bread and stew. We must make a team and find the river. I have also invited my brothers, I’ve stopped their choppers. Now that we’re all on toes, it’s high time we knew friends from foes.
So we travelled South and drained the stouts. We journeyed East and had some fists. We sang in the rain, we tangoed in the train. Then we arrived West at the bottom of brains. Clowns in masks; crowns on tasks. Our home was primitive, this appeared intuitive, we wouldn’t be inquisitive, we must find the thief.
We reached the markets and our eyes blazed. It made us remember our domestic days. Suddenly a royal staff appeared at our toes, oh my God, we’ve fallen into the trap of crows. They took us to the Palace called a Sunshine State; we were sat down and given chalk and slates. We had to write if we wished to claim our names, our reputation has preceded us, we couldn’t think about the plates. Who would talk of a freedom? Well, that is left to the fates.
When the river stole our meanings away and drove the waters and brothers to a journey across the storms and fires into the State of Slates, stepping on the plates in Crete, we knew the thief who rang about our traits. Fâvörí the Splendid she was called, we were taken to her in the great throne of her ancient beauty, and when she glowed in the emerald stones, all the waters succumbed and bowed. Her eyes had put my brothers in tears; my feet were trembling too, I have never felt such a stir.
And then she spoke: “Oh ye who writeth on the walls of my heart, move from the coldness to stand here by my hearth. Hope you’ve not come here to fight, I have a plan of taking you as my right. Don’t think I would lock you in the cells, or mistake me for a thief; I only brought your race here so that you could see the strength in your cells. You’re a blessing to humankind, and with you I will be kind. You can prosper here, gather yourselves together, we can give you horses and hare; we’re not cruel, we can host you here.”
No wind has ever blown that much into my heart; no rain has ever so watered my fat. No woman has ever lifted my heart, nor did any joy influence my act. But the words which fell from the lips of Fâvörí the Splendid ran through my veins, I can’t describe what they did. The words saw where no eyes have seen on me. And I saw tears deep in her eyes like the great seas of the continent of ice. The more the tide of the sea of tears blew, the more the laughter deceived the blind and banged a blow. Wishes and fates work a purpose, but however, they do not travel the same hose. Why did God create Fâvörí the Splendid and kept her from my books, I could have studied her looks and hence employ them in writing many books. I found my brothers rolling on the floor, and my strength… where was strength where there was a beauty that an age has never seen? I fell on my knees and chanted: “Hail Fâvörí the Splendid! Who would hear the horn of a queen and still bath in the trees? My chalks and my slates, my brain and my skills, my emotions and my instincts, how can I use them to satisfy you, my lady?”
She smiled and looked directly in my eyes, I couldn’t withstand the sight; a drop of urine fell from my pants.
“Write about my sister from the Dray-sands” she mumbled. I did, and then she asked me to write about her too. Oh my God! How could a man find the words?
In English, her name means Favour, but in the language of beauty, Fâvörí talks better. I couldn’t write about her, so I gave the job to a Shakespearean. When he did not perform well, I changed my mind. But, Tolkien, Longstreet, Hemmingway, Brown, King, Faulkner, Lewis, Achebe, Soyinka, Hones, Grisham, Emecheta, Christie, Chase, and even Knight could not have been successful in correctly describing her either. Words cannot describe her, but unlike a princess I met in the North, she appreciated me and even understood why writers cry.
My lady; princess of the arts; queen of the books; daughter of Science; cousin of commerce; idol of the gods; I wish I were a prince, I would have sought your hands in marriage, but now that I’m your servant, accept my humble offering; Fâvörí the Splendid.
Lord eBay, LeScoth.
Ff on Twitter @eBayism