NaPoWriMo: 28 (prose poem)

A Postcard from Limbo

Greetings from the circle of sunless shores and cloudless climes. Please know that we are not enjoying our stay here in this epic land that knows no time. This is the place of deep ennui and echoing sighs. This is the country of muted light and steel grey skies. Here there is nothing to do and nothing to see. There is nothing left for us but sit and think about the lives we lost and who used to be. We were the learned philosophers, pondering for the sake of contemplation. We were the best military minds now engaging in battles of meaningless conversation. We were the great poets who now wear a laurel wreath curse of having no audiences for our recited verse.

It is true, unlike the lower circles , we have freedom from the worst suffering and the most agonizing pain. However, our fate is a torment just the same. It is like living on an overcast plain where steady sheets of rain fall upon a ground where nothing can be planted. This is the barren, eternal country of the doomed and the disenchanted. Our only desire is hoping for hope, and hoping you come near. Our never ending misery desperately desires company, and we wish you were here.


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