Half-wit Savage

Ron Koppelberger

Half-Wit Savage

The breach was set for the sake of the fray, the lovers of life and the tender purveyors of unwavering magic. The savage, poor, the wild dogs of destiny and willful uproar, they stood in mute silence before the passage to what was an azure heaven, an alabaster and pearl dominion, separate by challenged attentions and safeties cause; it was the wisdom of ages and a moment behind the favor of currents and flow, time in flux.
Savages, a second in the past and the love of princesses, kings and angels forward, forward momentum the half-wit thought. He wondered for a moment and the seconds counted the space between his breaths. Tis our world unto the aftermath of what’s willed in the past, the days of our birth and the possible future of evolution.
“Come!” he spoke aloud, “Come my brothers for we own the toil of the blessed, be satisfied in the separation between us and them for our protectors and the forbearance of our cousins, for we shall not parish, unto the lead, unto the lead!” With that they breached the gulf by measure of a second, leaving the next half-wit wondering at the gate.