Kel: *giddy* This is SOOO cool!

Sephy: *grumps* Speak for yourself...

Duo: It can’t be _that_ bad...

Sephy: You honestly don’t know Sabrina’s “I gotta give this a happy ending!” thing, do you?

Duo: What’s so bad about that? *grins*

Sephy: No lovey-dovey scene for you and Heero, that’s for damn sure.

Duo: O.O;; ....

Sabrina: *off in a distance* Why does Duo-san look unhappy with me?

Kel: *drily* He’s probably ‘unhappy’ over some relationship problems...

DISCLAIMER: Not ours, we promise. I’m just a lowly peon to the house of Ringo, while SABRINA over there happens to be the princess of her own planet. *moodily* She never has to lift a finger, but she does anyway. I would MAIM for her job... *blinks and blushes* Uhh.... Ignore that...
PAIRINGS: Sadly, none apparent. *grins* But imagine what you want. I don’t mind.
WARNINGS: It’s like a poem, but it’s not a poem. Ne? It’s kind of weird, and the girl with the first person POV is Sabrina.
RATING: I’m pretty damn proud of it. *beams* Me ‘n Sabrina make a great team. I give it, on a scale from one to ten, a seven. I dunno... Maybe an eight...

Better to be Foolish
Co-written: Kel and Sabrina

Once I met a youth
With the bluest of eyes
Yet instead of the emotions
That I would see play across any boy’s face
I saw emptiness

And I openly approached the boy
His wary, beautiful blue eyes on me as I
Circled him in a scrutinizing way
And I smiled my smile, the smile that told many
That as long as I stood and lived and breathed
That there would be something akin to peace
In their heart and their soul.

“What is it?” he asks me harshly
Eye for an eye
As his bluest of blues contacts mine
“Why are you staring at me?”
His tense shoulders,
His wild expression screaming freedom,
They told me of his troubles

“When I see you,” I say, smiling my smile,
“I see something of an oddity.
I see in you ten legs and feet
With twenty-five little toes.
I see in you ten arms and hands
With twenty-five slimming fingers.
That is what I see.”

His bluest of blues eye me
Open distrust on his wary, deadened face.
But I saw with mine eyes,
Something that sparks and shivers
Inside his still living soul.
The soul hidden away from thy eyes
Thy ears, and thy own being.

“When I see you,” I go on, still smiling my smile,
“I see something of an oddity.
I see five heads and necks,
With ten eyes of five shades.
I see five souls, hardened yet innocent,
Still beating strong.
That is what I see.”

In those bluest of blues I vision
His heart thrumming in hist chest
Curiosity flowing in his veins.
But his brain, stubborn intellect
Tells him, screams at him
To listen not to the girl who speaks gentle words
For she is of no value to his own gain.

“But what makes this so odd,” I add, pausing a beat,
“Is that even with ten arms and legs,
Twenty-five fingers and toes,
Five heads and necks,
With ten eyes of five shades,
And five souls hardened yet pure
Is one complete harmony; a symphony of hearts.”

His bluest of blues soften for a second
But harden as logic won out against gentle words.
“I only have two arms and legs,
ten fingers and toes,
One head and neck,
With two eyes of the same shade,
And not even one soul that is hardened nor innocent.”

I raise one brow,
Lifting blue-green hair from my blue-green eyes
Tilting my head in my curious manner
My own eyes reflecting inquisitiveness.
“Why do you say that, little one?
Are you not a boy of fifteen, that has friends
That are family and family that are friends?”

“I have no friends that are family,” he claims flatly,
“Nor family that are friends.
I merely have comrades and allies.
War is my only family,
And when war will die,
I will be just as lifeless.” His nasal words
Echo the finality of the soft yet hardened remarks.

I tsk thrice, very softly
Shaking my head to and fro.
“Do you truly believe these blasphemous words you utter,
Dear one? What about your five souls,
Four belonging to those that are family and friends?
Do you not see the care they have for you,
The love they stretch to you only?”

“Then they are fools,” his mind tells his mouth to say
“To show the unloved love is a foolish act,
Something deluded ones would try.
They know I know of not an ounce of emotion
They see how careless I am of their lives.
Why would they extend love to me?
Foolishly flawed soldiers are what they be.”

I laugh at him, not in a scolding way,
And I reply to his harsh comments to say,
“Perhaps they are fools, flawed in many ways.
To show love to someone they consider a friend.
To care for his life like that of a brother,
Or a sister or father or cousin or mother.
Oh, yes, I can see the foolishness in that.

“But perhaps,” I go on, smiling my smile
“It is better to be a fool then one of no remorse,
Remorse that even the deadest of souls
Can feel deep in his bones.
Perhaps they strive to be fools,
To care and love and take care of each other.
Indeed, perhaps it is better to be a fool.”

In his bluest of blues I saw hesitation
His face relaxing into that of deep concentration.
He bit his lip, his frame less adult.
His boyish looks becoming more boyish.
He lifted his eyes to me, and I breathe deep.
For instead of cold simplicity and emotionless hell
I see the boy that should have been.
And was still, as well.

“It is not logical to be a fool,” he whispers,
Still staring deep into mine eyes.
“Fools do not belong in a soldier’s war.
Fools belong in their foolish dreams,
Their foolish ideals and their foolish wishes.
It should not be better to be a fool,
For the foolish die quick and senseless deaths.”

I stood, waiting for a moment. Finally I say
“Is that what your brain tells you, little one?
That it is foolish to be foolish?
Let me tell you something, dear little one,
That being foolish is foolish...
Is the whole point, indeed.
That is the meaning of being a fool.”

His mood, thoughtful and deep, did not change
With my soothing words. Instead he says to me,
“Then why be foolish when it leads in circles?
Why are fools still fools when it races around
And around and around, in an endless cycle?
Should they not strive to brake from this?
Why still stay in the pattern?”

“Because, my dear little one,” I say gently,
Clasping one shoulder lightly while smiling my smile,
“Fools desire it like this
Instead of constant changing.
Even your five souls will settle one day
Enjoying the simplicities that
Young boys such as yourselves were cheated of.”

He looks up at me, not very high,
His deepest of blues echoing understanding.
Slowly, surely, a small rarity plays along his face.
I turn and leave with a satisfied feeling deep within,
Turning back to wave.
For on Heero Yuy’s face where the rarity occurs,
Was a small, genuine smile born of foolishness.