The Last Of A Kind

It took ages and ages and ages as well as ages more, before this could ever be written. Now that it is finally writ, these pieces bare our thoughts, mirror our tears, speak of our flowing blood and depict our sensing all that goes about.

But unlike many, my people live with us far away from the bustling metropolises. Born of aristocrats, but the last of our kind. Like many nobles in many lands, we have no longer been born in opulence; deaths and conflicts, disease or other indisposition and by some stroke of inadequacy, such as gambling too much on foretold fortunes, or simple betting against greed, our forebears divested.

It is not disheveling to live thus, but a mere challenge. More than eight parts of ten in the entire country are much too poor than all of us in the woods and our sympathy goes with them, as we well know how most awful their conditions are than ours.

True, we subsist on meagre victuals whilst the rest of our brethren in high places live importuned by the blood of the small folk who are suffered by these thieves and robbers.

We die small and big deaths in the woodlands, we succumb often to perilous ailments, but there is no one to blame, except ourselves, for not fighting to live longer, breathing longer, filling up with sustaining life to take us farther many days out into the future. We are devastated, yes, but not defeated. Ours is a credo of living with the pride and joy imparted by our many a jolly forebears. We sing and laugh - never unlike the ones who can take life with a pinch of mirth. We cry and wail - never different from the one who experiences pain, suffering and piercing solitude.

We are a fierce people, our subjects and us all, but we are gentle. We do not always follow straight paths as in the mountains and woods you walk where the roads and paths are extremely too crooked to fathom. We see what we see of every one in our sphere, because we are just what we are, having no need to place layers and layers and layers of mud over our selfs to masque what must be hidden and never revealed. Only the age old hypocrites do that, until now. We do not worship things, except just one God.

But at the end, we will join with the Others more different from us. There will be catastrophe, danger, death, pestilence, we would at least want to be where we may be of help, for we have been taught to prepare. As I said, we truly are, the last of our kind.