Taste and temperament are the obvious answers, but that is not the good that I refer to. What elements move fantasy from mere delusion to something uplifting?
What makes a fantastic story inspirational instead of a siren call?
I look around and see so many men buried alive in paper and have to wonder if the lore they consumed was deadly to them.
Is this the work of the zeitgeist, the method of delivery, or is there poison in the myths they read?
Perhaps the true heroic narrative is unknown to them.
Perhaps the combination of extreme discipline and wild fortunes that makes heroes in reality is rare in the stories they choose.
If we take the hyper abstraction of reality that most fantasy is and boil it down to its more grounded elements, perhaps we would find that the good narratives have ingredients that lay out a path to greatness rather than day dreaming about it.
Does this speak to the character of the author?
It certainly displays their presuppositions.
I bow my head in supplication, to the King of every nation,
the one who holds all men’s hearts
in his hand.
On my knees earnest intent,
I speak the words of a man spent,
when before the master of all I dare not stand.
Here I am at the throne of God
Here I kneel to the King of Kings,
and my tongue,
Of such sweet things my vain mind sings
how can I know such distraction?
When be-fore almighty God
of whom I know but a fraction?
What is more enticing than, the mind of my Father?
How can I consider somthing
other than the potter?
When God is near,
His creation here
for me in awe to wander,
how is it that,
I find other
foolish thoughts to ponder?
Based on events from A Throne of Bones
A mortally wounded flier, upon returning to his forest home meets the weeping bride of his distant youth. Instead of relishing these precious moments he icily reacts to her desperate attempts to soothe his passing with song. His bitter knowledge of the coming ruin speaks through this final soliloquy.
Sing to me your swan song
sing to me your lie
spread your pretty lips let out
the swaying locust cry
drown out all the ringing in
my battle damaged ears
let it soothe the killing wound
and soon reali-zed fears
I want to now feel hopeful
for hopes lost yesterday
lie to me, sing your sweet lies
until I pass away
all the world shall then be trampled
neath the hooves of horses four
in due response the mouths of man
in woe will sing a fruitless roar
that final note of undue pride
will sound the end
of sin’s cruel song
And God will let his justice ride
four beasts abreast
four horsemen strong
shake for me baby
shake in my hands
I want to hear your bones rattle
I want to hear your metal spit dribble
onto the concrete floor
scream for me
anguish and love
bark like an animal
shudder with passion
I want to feel you kick with every touch
to rock with every round
to fight with every pound
Sultry southern belle
I watch you sizzle in the sun
my steaming frozen gaze
is stuck to suffocating clothes
pistol in the shade of your
soft abundant hip
bullets damn near boiling
bandoleered about your tattered slip
heated red across your face
eyes that whisper sex and grace
meet me at your blinding dawn
we’ll burn away the sky
hipster boys will think you trendy.
crouched on its faux leather seat
not “cool” par-say, but neat
feet an inch above the street in plastic cones…
but does it roar?
does it sing that animal song?
does it make the weak seem strong?
does it scream through thrumming pistons,
biting at the road?
can it sit all alone,
glare with growling eyes of chrome
yet charm you like a lost dog
make you want to take it home?
There is an art to clickbate,
a sweet finesse to trash,
but showing off that skillset here
just clutters up the hash
is a beautiful sight
it makes me hold my wallet tight
lest my dollars think to bolt
to purchase yet another colt
the hammer swinging home
scuffed stained wood on faded chrome
If I’d bought it (and now I might)
I’d hold it close to me all night.
Love and life they give you meaning
little bird all dressed in red
sealed behind a wall of oil
hearer of the soft words said
you’re a memory
of a life no longer here
a reminder of a missing face
one full of smiles
one free of fear