What is the price of a man's life? An apple? A sword? A kingdom?
There are many ways to leave a life in ruins:
In the night time, with fire and flame and a tumble of stone walls.
Behind a locked door, with a knife and a noose and a laughing smile.
By running water, with the thrust of a bronze spear into a young man’s belly.
At the quayside, denying a child’s plea, ‘Take me with you!’
But ruined lives go on, twisted and tangled as briars upon an apple tree. Ruined lives can find new love, sweet as roses on a summer’s evening. Yet those living ruined lives know roses wither, apples rot, flesh decays. They know love is but a little thing, no stronger than a candleflame at noontime. Love is not enough to set against the future. As well try to turn back the tide with a wall of sand.
(MS. partially uploaded)