Zizz

What did Zizz inspire?

noun; meaning "a nap or sleep.”
verb; meaning “to have a nap.”

Joelle Saveliev

Noël Coleman

Joelle Saveliev

To zizz,  
Perchance to dream, 
But are these mere figments,
All that they seem?  
A doozle, a dozel, 
And I’m out like a light,  
And then it begins,  
Such a wonderful sight. 
Falling through clouds,  
Sitting on air, 
I’m floating about,  
No worry, 
No care. 
Oh rise not the sun, 
And set not the moon, 
To awaken now, 
Is but a moment too soon. 
Just a few minutes more, 
Dancing in flight,  
Until I stir, 
And bask in morning light.

Noël Coleman

Training said never to sleep in caves.

You can’t see far into the darkness.  

There could be bears.  There could be dragons. There could be people.

Training had also said never to leave mid-combat. 

Besides, this wasn’t sleeping.  

This was… taking a bit of a zizz and then wandering off as far from my garrison as possible.

There probably wouldn’t be dragons. 

I’m fairly certain those don’t exist yet. Here. At all? Something like that.

I can’t seem to find my wings. They were here and there was wind and now.

Now there’s a cave. 

And it’s empty.

I think.

I wonder if they’ll find me.

I wasn't built for battle. The fault is not mine. 

Not mine. Michael should have known. 

Maybe he should be the one to atone. Anyone’s fault but mine.

There were swords.

And fire.

Wrapping itself around swords and bodies and souls that glowed before they

Stopped.

I was not made for battle.

But the fault is mostly always mine.

I was made for rushing through the weeds and weaving through the trees.  

Making those listen, who would choose rather to swing a swift blow.

I am the Messenger, hiding in a cave, because someone thought it wise to hand me a sword and shout “FIGHT!”

I was not made to fight.

The fault is not my own.

And I can say this to an empty cave until the wars stop and the souls all wisp away to God knows where, crying out upon the strikes of metal on something far more fragile.

I was not made for battle.

But I did not fall.

I ran.

But, perhaps, that means I fell all the same.

The fire in the cave burns.

When did I make a fire?

I can't remember.
I only know running and falling and 

too tired now.

It is empty and dark and I am not falling asleep.

It’s a rest of the eyes, a zizz, a calm before they come.

Because they will come.

And I pray it be Michael that finds me next to the flames.

He knows how to be swift and swing sure.

Desertion

No one’s fault but my own.

Anyone to blame but me.