vladik kelner
Bluelighter
In times not too unknown,
In lands of not uncommon.
Once lived a clan,
According to the plan –
Set out by their leaders.
The clans’ rules were simple.
Provided you did not mingle,
Unneccessary thoughts.
Their numbers were many,
Yet their ways were unvaried.
Since one resembled most.
However, as hard as it may be,
To break through their identity.
This tale is not of all,
But only three, Musketeers!
Their names were simple –
Ulcer, Pride and Ego.
And each played their part…
So well.
But, as the legend goes…
There was of course one more,
The one who had it all.
Selfish was her call.
Their ways were different,
Yet, one thing was singular –
A strange voice, each one, felt within.
Sad is the memory,
Of the silly bravery –
That prevailed over the group.
They were very persistently able,
Live up their respective namehoods.
Yet one thing remained the same,
That perplexed each of them.
A sense of someone else…
And no matter how tragically,
It almost seems magically –
The irony of the following words…
There lived a secret within each of them,
That all treasured passionately.
The only one they managed well.
Ulcer held on to it painfully.
Ego did it vainly.
While Pride was all alone.
And selfish,
Who’d want to know!
In times, that are not yet known,
In lands that will never be common.
Will live a tribe of wanderers –
Who had survived the consequence,
Of this unhappy myth.
To tell the rest…
In lands of not uncommon.
Once lived a clan,
According to the plan –
Set out by their leaders.
The clans’ rules were simple.
Provided you did not mingle,
Unneccessary thoughts.
Their numbers were many,
Yet their ways were unvaried.
Since one resembled most.
However, as hard as it may be,
To break through their identity.
This tale is not of all,
But only three, Musketeers!
Their names were simple –
Ulcer, Pride and Ego.
And each played their part…
So well.
But, as the legend goes…
There was of course one more,
The one who had it all.
Selfish was her call.
Their ways were different,
Yet, one thing was singular –
A strange voice, each one, felt within.
Sad is the memory,
Of the silly bravery –
That prevailed over the group.
They were very persistently able,
Live up their respective namehoods.
Yet one thing remained the same,
That perplexed each of them.
A sense of someone else…
And no matter how tragically,
It almost seems magically –
The irony of the following words…
There lived a secret within each of them,
That all treasured passionately.
The only one they managed well.
Ulcer held on to it painfully.
Ego did it vainly.
While Pride was all alone.
And selfish,
Who’d want to know!
In times, that are not yet known,
In lands that will never be common.
Will live a tribe of wanderers –
Who had survived the consequence,
Of this unhappy myth.
To tell the rest…
