Story of a little Elf
He was a goddamn elf.
And he was a actually a pretty good one,
He spent his life trying to be many things.
Holy.
Unholy.
Hidden.
Infamous.
And a bunch of other things.
It was all a fun story he created for himself.
Party from a need to be loved,
but mostly from pure boredom.
Never leave and elf bored for long!
Though that is practically impossible.
Except if you put him somewhere, he is not mean to be,
He loved trees.
And Dogs.
And fairies.
And all kinds of magical creatures...
And food,
and sex,
and Beauty.
And he would probably spent most of his life,
stuck in this or that bush.
Or being lulled by this or that Walking Beauty.
But he also loved poetry.
And Beauty.
And he could not stand injustice.
And he will not have any of that in his presence.
And his presence, was a wide thing.
You could feel it, as he walked in,
Llike an elephant in a china shop.
He would break all the China, before even opening his mouth,
He was not a diplomat.
Not a zen master.
Though he loved to sit, with the Queen and the Magician,
on the magic holy hills, where his family came from.
There was something magic about those hills.
Though there was so much pain, and so much death there.
He could not stick around for long.
Lest he became a cosmic cleaning service.
And he also wanted to do other things to do in his life.
He was still in search of himself.
And he was not in a hurry of “finding himself”
Whatever that mean.
He was a wandering wanderer.
And as long he got tea, coffee, some food, a fire place and a kind word.
He would tell you stories of magic and mystery.
That he himself would not believe
lest he lived them through.
Invite him in.
It might not be such a bad
idea.
Samo Bohak (c) 2021
Dundalk 6.4.2021