Folly in Love

She leads him with a sibling’s rivaled indecision and the caprice of a mind which has been touched. Her staff watches, its eyes expectant, remembering the passionate blow that started this endless walk. Together, with tread so light mere dust or smoke becomes a bridge, she takes him anywhere her cracked brain might find a need. She will stumble, as is her way, and bring him with her for each fall. He will not complain, for he trusts her as a sister. He knows she cannot mislead, despite this curse that links their path. It is she that finds the others, the playmates that call to them. Those prepared to fall with them, pierced and barbed and blinded. The lovers that seek their madness: a cloud to reach the heavens and hide the next step’s rocky fate. She cannot repent the rashness that stole his precious sight. With his own eyes he would go unerring from one heart to the next. There would be no searching question, no failure filled with lesson, no tripped and painful attempt. With his eyes he would not need her, and we all would be the lesser, if she could not complicate his way. 

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