cavsansspice:

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Written for a Journey’s Rest, a Genshin Self-Care Zine.

Old and quiet,
He drinks his tea.
Morax walks about the harbor, hands tucked behind his back,
Shopkeepers stand around, arms full of items to hack.
“Good job,” says one, “Go and call it a day.”
Morax mills about as he thinks and he weighs
A foreign-like idea, seemingly fresh and new,
Crinkling the corners of his brain as it starts to woo,
“My duties,” he thinks, chin upon his hand,
“Are they done? Have they finished? Is this it for my land?”
Morax watches the bustling Harbor, and the people all around—
And then he laughs.

A once god, retired,
His humans rise beyond.
Zhongli sits in his quaint apartment with a warm mug of tea.
He watches his home rebuild, and the quiet subtleties,
Of what makes humans tick, and gives them their drive,
Zhongli wonders from henceforth what should he for strive.
So close, and yet so far, just toeing the edge of the line
Whilst he waits for some answers and his stars to realign.
The mortal equation is a tricky, and distracting thing:
But Zhongli, for one, just cannot wait to see what the future brings.
His morning is quiet, fingers curled around his mug—
It is nice.

A Harbinger, a Cook,
His boss, the Undertaker.
Zhongli delights in his friends and the company they share,
The days spent with them are the best kind of self-care.
With Childe, it’s the markets for money is his whim
And with his purse in hand, he’ll never have to skim.
Xiangling and her smile, and her trusty wok’s bright blaze,
Food of all his wildest dreams that never fails to amaze.
Then, that darned child who works him to the bone:
Hu Tao with her coupons and deals that only make him groan.
Zhongli’s days are packed, full with kindly charm—
He is never bored.

He walks on tired feet,
Toes digging into the sand.
Zhongli enjoys a nice day out upon on a lengthy stroll,
As he walks across the sandy strip of the Yaoguang Shoal,
He dreams of the ocean and the ever drifting tide,
And ponders his new life as he takes it all in stride.
Later, at the base of Mt. Hulao which rises up so tall,
And at its feet,  shimmering flora that spreads about in a sprawl.
He thinks of his old friend Retuo, who lays beneath a tree,
And the Erosion that tugs at his bones, for even Gods are never free.
Zhongli likes it, the creaks and crackles of his joints—
He feels alive.A mountain and a table,
Meant for more than one.
Zhongli sets about to brew tea in the heart of Jueyun Karst,
Which, frankly, to anyone else would seem an act that’s farced.
The water; perfectly heated to quite a near-hot boil,
A pinch of leaves to sit and steep, a wait that’s worth the toil.
And so he sits in his memories of old, a reminder of what he was,
He thinks of his days, now subtle and warm, and how all he ever does,
Is delight in the joy of others, and watch as the Harbor glows,
His retirement has surely proven to be quite the handsome show.
Zhongli’s cup is warm in his hands as he takes a sip—
Then, he smiles.

Those little moments
Are now his future
What a wonderful thing.