Nothing, Oh Banquo, our ghost of the martlet hall,
can bring you back to reasoning in some healthful clime.
Uncheerful then, you floated for the bloody
sudden gift, the unlooked master strokes,
so many more than needed for the scent,
the over fatal hint of flight for heaven.
You may see Duncan, but most you’ll find your heritage.
Go, fly there now and seek your generations, your job
of guilt and shame were well done here, your line assured.
To destroy the tyrant, that one dream won,
and all that’s sadness finally swept away,
as settling wind has sweetened all the air,
and everything that’s breathed here now
is so much more the pleasanter for the good of you.
* * * * *
Today’s word is
Use it in any kind of writing and then post and link to me, or simply leave it in the comments below. I’d love to read what you write. Happy Saturday : )