Inkchor

Drifting like a windswept Daisy Looking directionless and lazy Working hard at not wrestling Thoughts that are tireless and testing Letting myself be windswept and lazy Daring myself to be a directionless daisy

Climbing a mountain in the middle of the night is not something wise men do. It is perhaps something good or courageous men do, should there be just cause. Issac was neither good nor courageous. He had a cause, but it was far from just or noble. He was in fact a thief. A very ambitious thief. He stopped to catch his breath and looked down to see how far he had come. Another thing the wise would have never done. He smiled when he saw the treacherous ground he had covered. He had nearly fallen and had the scrapes and scratches to prove it, but the full moon was on his side, and the rising wind had swallowed the sound of his missteps. He looked up at his destination, the large open mouth of a dragon’s cave. Greed mixed with fear made his heart beat a rhythm, the rhythm said: Almost there, almost there, almost there. He chanted it to himself until it filled every nook in his heart and every crevice in his mind. Almost there. Almost rich. Almost richer than he had ever dreamed to be. He