Lord of the Manor - Despair

For all that I know about temper. For all that I have hectored about prudence and poise. For all that I know and all that I offered, I am now a charade of stature and humility.

 

The clues are not here. They are not buried in the seared paint that lines the warped door frame. They are not in the wisps of lace and fabric that defied the flames consumption, they are nowhere tangible. Not here, not anywhere. I who knew it all, I who could place every polished item of ephemera that once clustered in the grand old rooms now have no compass, no material guides to lead me with the confidence I crave. What do I search for and where do I find it? Do I seek out possessions or those whose lives I once possessed? Do I really not know what it is I have lost in the consuming flames?

 

Done