fingerpainting

our paints
arranged
on plates
in bowls

the urge to daub
upon us

our brushes
nimble
eager

paint strawberry kisses
on my chest
from the juice on
your lips

Vale Mr Gemmell

And when Alexander saw the breadth of his domain, he wept, for there were no more worlds to conquer.

David Gemmell is an author who has made me cry, laugh, and rejoice like few can. An avid fan I had until the last week read all but three of his books. Epic tales of flawed heroes, courage, and human endeavour in the face of trials and tribulations few of us will with luck realise.

And within which are found values I can only hope I have the strength to at least emulate in some manner.

Never violate a woman, nor harm a child. Do not lie, cheat or steal. These things are for lesser men. Protect the weak against the evil strong. And never allow thoughts of gain to lead you into the pursuit of evil.

The last three books that I had as yet not read were the trilogy based on the tale of Troy, on which he was working at the time of his death in 2006. The third in the trilogy, aptly titled Fall of Kings, ably completed by his wife Stella.

The last books he ever wrote. The last of his novels still waiting for me to read.

Tonight I finished Fall of Kings.

And wept.