So, I read that having two different kinds of projects going on at once is a good idea and I have decided to write a play in the off time of my novella. It is based on Morte D'Arthur and this is the opening monologue.
Mordred: Alas! Our lives are now but shadows of our
merriment,
They speak of grace and strength and hope, yet still are not
content,
They shift and twist our wretched motions, as we pace afore
the fire,
To laughter on the weary walls showing not our soul’s
desire.
And now we gather ‘round the table, cheerful in our eyes,
but hollow are our words, and abundant are our lies.
You see a man before you, a king upon the throne,
His subjects stay beside him, yet here he sits alone.
To his right sits a queen, and he fain believes her love
For she is his Guinevere, ordained from God above.
Oh what a God to laugh in sight of this foolish king
Who prances about enamor’d so, by such a spiteful thing.
For his love for her, is in all pains, vanity
The object of her love, sits to the right of she.
Lancelot the lusty knight, the knight of blessed deeds,
Sidles behind the busy throne and sews his vulgar seeds.
And here they sit, this trinity, two venomous in deceit,
Rejoicing in the company, with bliss come replete.
They are but balanced souls, held steadfast in their place
So shall I come upon a flame, to wreak their uneasy grace
To burn away the blighted crops, to purge the iniquity,
To turn the shadows upon themselves, to show them what I
see.
I will be the working worm, gnawing at the fruit
Mashing pulp with hungry jaws, the skin in good repute.
I’ll suckle away at the honey’d flesh, and feed ‘till I grow
fat
And when nothing’s left but a hollow husk, I’ll where the
king once sat.
-Michael
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