Slowly Drifting, or The Lost Verses of Perique Blend

by Cynewulf

Book I.1-3

On Earth Ponies (A Hymn)

The works and the days they are

Done with, the long stretch of

Agrarian years they are

Done with all, the call of the trees is

Done with, and accomplished the

Apple demands—family and the

Weight of duty.

Oh, but the Earth was ever mine—

Ever faithful ever true.

Ponies of the earth, we the movers

Of the grain, who tend the vineyards

Of the Grapes, who are the growers

Of Apples—

Who love the Good Earth.

Oh, but the Earth was ever mine—

Ever faithful ever true.

No flyer of clouds am I, nor my

Ponies those who build pillars

Of cloud—These hooves built for

Hard things are, built for the

Slow things are to guard and for

Living things are the hooves of

The Ponies I come from meant.

Oh, but the Earth was ever mine—

Ever faithful ever true.

And I have no magic because I need

None, need no wings, need no

Wine of heady sort to grace tongue

And no mysteries in runes. I have

World enough, and time,

And commands to ask not of

Tomorrow

But only to enjoy the lilies of the

Field

Which is to say

That the love of Earth is mine and

The World is enough.

On Pegasi—A Primer

When you ride the lightning, it doubles back and

Without fail, you’ll lose it. Without fail,

Promise you with all my heart, you’ll

Get that aching. The Aching, you’ll think, with a big proper

Capital A to make it all special. There’ll be

Lightning in your brain and lightning in your heart and

Lightning in your eyes. Son,

When it crashes, keep your wings steady and

Your eyes rolling all about. You’ll want to play

And revel and love in the storm, want to

Live, but it’s not time to live, it’s time to work and

All that entails and means.

It’s like preening, when a pretty mare wants you, when

You win—that’s what a storm’s like, son. It’s all sound

And fury, noise and preparation. Your throat closes up,

Your eyes don’t wanna stay still, and your hooves shake in midair

And that is okay It’s okay, though the wind tear and the rain pour and

The lightning yell its rage at you,

It’s all okay. World needs a few strong storms now and then

And I guess that means you too.

Concerning Unicorns, a Lesson

My son, my apprentice:

Listen

Closely, keep your eyes straight

And your mind clear. Open your heart

And keep your horn lit--keep those

Orbs balanced in harmony with

Themselves and the Song-spun

Universe. Now--

I'm going to tell you what it all means

Surely you've felt it

Seen it

Creeping at the corners, shy before

Your questing, searching eye.

Our tribe guided the sun

In its glory

And the moon

In its splendor

And we counted the stars and knew them

Each by name. Yet that does not

Satisfy. Does it?

Our brothers understood the earth

And our sisters understood the sky

But what did we understand?

What was there apart from

The Good Earth and the Joyful Sky?

You've seen glimpses of what we

Knew in your studies already,

Lifting training weights, lighting up

Rooms, adjusting heat and cold,

Reading in silent vaults.

You've glimpsed the recursive, spiraling

Of existence like the grooves in your horn.

Beneath the recursion

"there lies an inviolate layer"

So also beneath our feet and above our horns

There too is an inviolate Mystery.

Do not lose your focus,

For we know the Mystery now.

So eager for knowledge and so

Eager for something to show our brothers

And our sisters, we chased it and chased it--

Finally we too would return with

Something of worth and they would

Love us and we would be worthy

Of their love.

We locked ourselves in high towers

And in endless libraries,

We searched the vast darkness of space

And we delved into the darkness

In the corners of our hearts,

And with time we became cold.

Our desperate love grew cancerous

Until it became disdain for companions

And the revels of our former friends.

(We were cold just fine in our

Finery, before ever the Windigo!)

That's good for now. Put your

Tools of practice away. Come down

And eat.

The Mystery? If you insist.

In all of our grasping, we failed to see

That all alone beneath all things

In decency and order there beat Love

At the heart of all magic worth casting.

When you weave arcane energy

You weave your heart-strands,

You weave your own world-love

And make of it a light for your friends in the dark.

We thought the answer was to Know.

We never needed to know.

Our brothers and sisters loved us

All along.

A Pegasus to fight for me

And an earth pony to sing for me

And tell yourself:

I will repay their love with my own.

Power, mystery, lore, philosophy, riches

And yet.

It is the greatest of these.

Author's Note:

[Twilight Sparkle]

I'm not really sure what to feel about the one to, well, Unicorns.

Who is Perique? The question is still bothering me. What, for that matter, is Perique? Some investigation reveals that perique is a term used to describe a labor intensive way for curing tobacco, which would suggest that Mr. or Ms. Blend is from the east. Griffon country. A griffon? But a griffon writing a trilogy of poems to the three main tribes of Equestria is a bit odd. Not impossible, mind you, simply odd. For that matter, griffons have different naming conventions than ponies... no.

It's too much to get bogged down in.

I sent my request for information to the constabulary of Canterlot, hoping that they might have some information on missing ponies named Perique. Dropped by the mayor's office, but she didn't have anything helpful. Still, we had tea, which was nice. She's been really accommodating about the whole "castle sprouting up out of nowhere" thing.

The unicorn poem caught my eye, but it didn't seem to really
It's just that no one thinks like tha

I thought about my own reaction to Trixie, the first time around. Unicorns with a lot of magical power and potential are often isolated socially. I'm not really alone there, but I was fortunate to at least have Spike and my family around me. Some unicorns in Canterlot who were prodigies didn't have that glowing support system and they became insular and bitter.

I'm not sure that my friends would understand why--and honestly, that's okay. We're all different. I wouldn't understand what growing up on a farm or up in the clouds was like, though I could read so as to not be totally ignorant. There are a lot of things I can't really talk about with most of my friends because they've never felt the surge of magic outside of the Elements and even then they didn't understand it. High-level unicorns find that so much of their life becomes swallowed up in this thing that your classmates can't keep up with or your parents find strange and then...

And I guess someone had told me this when I was younger. Or, well. I take it back--my father said things not unlike this. I just wish I had listened and realized there was more to life than work and study and the thrum of arcane energy along my horn.

[Perique's Notes]

Old. Garbage. Really want to try again with these before I return.

Comments

[ookacha]

Very cryptic...

You leave the Mystery tag well defined.
With all purpose and intent,
One can wonder...

[RoboRed]

Is it just me, or does the indentation on the unicorn poem keep shifting ever slowly towards the left?

[Jack-Pony]

I really like the flavor you give the three tribes here. It might not be meant for me, but I don't really care. A little like a unicorn, greedy am I.

[wlam]

I will repay their love with my own.

Power, mystery, lore, philosophy, riches

And yet.

It is the greatest of these.

Three things remain to us now: faith, hope, and love.

But the greatest of these is love.