A/N This is my first Les Miserables fic. Yay!!!
Just some random prose comes into my head, nothing worth writing down.
I have always been like that. I have heard, from some old book up in my attic, that writers can hear the "random word of the gods." I am not one of them. My prose is my own, never being able to transfer onto paper. Paper is the flimsy invention of man anyway. It is not worth putting this "random word" on if such a word comes from the gods. Keeping it in the hearts of man is better.
Poetry must not be written, but lived. And died for.
Are we dying for the sake of poetry, or for the sake of man? It seems to Enjolras that we are doing this for the enlightenment of men, but I can see that we are doing this in the sprit of romance in which our situation is steeped. I have always been one who was known to see the romance in anything.
Poetic. It is all poetic.
If I were Homer I would put this in as a new chapter of the Iliad, that greatest of great epics. We could be the sad Trojans, defending our home from attack. But our home is in the mind. It is the enlightenment of all men, and it will take many more armies, many more rebellions, insurrections, and revolutions to have our strong army to attack bigotry, ignorance, despotism, and all the unjust ails of the world.
We will need many more rebellions, insurrections, and revolutions before we can crush it. For now we shall join in this unseen army to help, but many more will be needed.
Here are thirty more for the cause.
It's all poetry. Everything we do here is in the sprit of lost romance.
A/N I assume you guys can get it was from Jean Prouvaire's POV, but I guess it could be interpreted in other ways. I don't even know what it exactly it is. It's just some freaky stuff that came into my head.
Review!!!!!!!
The Minnesotan in England
aka Miz Thang
aka Gnome Girl
aka Les Mis Freak
aka IAMVALANCY
aka
@@@marzoog@@@
