. . .and I contemplate What lives behind your eyes I wonder how You can be all that you are And still not know The wonder of you And I wonder Who lives behind your eyes What is the name Of this nameless thing That rises unbidden in me Whenever you enter the room And I wonder Who lives inside your heart And why it can't be me
you notice that you are staring down the shaft of an arrow aimed directly at your heart without a word the Dark Captain lowers the bow returns the arrow to its quiver unstrings his bow and with a final test of its fatal yew he secures it to his back with the poise and ease of a thing done often he loosens his ebon leathers returns the hold straps to his sgian dearg array removes the leggings to his pack in a show of trust he turns and walks to the brae bends to the water and drinks a long draft when he stands the waters sparkle as they drip from his short beard his hands are not large but they are swift and horribly scarred his legs are sturdy and his shoulders erect (tough he favors the right shoulder probably an injury) he sits on a large rock beside the waters and leans back against the cleft in the bank he is now invisible to any casual passers 'while it is never my way to tell someone what to do i would ask that you might consider sitting a spell' he rummages the pack without breaking his lock on your gaze produces a bagget of course bread which he breaks and gently hurls a half at you its tastes sour but very substantial you sit on a rock that is half in and half out of the water 'i loved a woman once . . .' (dry laugh - no humor in it) 'but i was not worthy of her glance not worthy of her concern oh, she wanted to know the warrior ways and she had no limit to the number of compliments she offered but her hand was more worthy than mine and she withheld it' 'i wonder if you have heard the tale of nimue and merlyn?' he chews and considers 'he loved her more than himself he taught her all that he knew and more and when she had taken . . . everything he had to give she put him under a rock and left him for dead' he shifts and his leathers creek 'people often wondered at his age wondered how he could master the energies of the unknowable wondered how he could let a slip of a girl kill him . . . but he did not die . . . no not dead yet' clouds obscure the part of the sky that you can see wind walks the trees is there a coming storm? 'he crawled from under the rock and took assessment of his life and he found that while he still loved her he could not bear to see her again' the waters are becoming restless 'he walked away left the court and his friends to her tender mercies and we all know how that went . . . don't we?' he becomes harder to see in the dusk of gathering clouds 'he walked the world . . . a vacation of sorts - yes, a vacation he consorted with dragons for a time, a long time and he became a physician, a poet, an engineer and a warrior' 'he learned all kinds of tricks and ways spent time beyond the seas and danced several dramas to keep himself entertained' you do not notice the chill of the unyielding rock beneath you you no longer notice the approaching storm all you can see are his glowing cobalt eyes in the darkness he lifts his hand and everything becomes silent he takes a bite of the loaf and chews it he laughs and it is the laugh that fills the dragon he lowers his hand and the sky is clear the sun is warm and the weather clement 'and so my maid Marion you question is answered i hope to your satisfaction' he smiles and wonder is returned to the vale he extends his hand to you
i am a reflection of the Universe and as with any mirror i cannot reflect on myself without getting that crazy infinity effect and so i can do nothing but indicate where my horizon lies a dance that implies a center a chance that decided to take itself a glance down a twisty misty toiling street to see if its safe to cross i am a reflection of the Universe and true to form of fractured symmetry i am cracked but not shattered i was a monument once a granite depiction of a modern dream with a stone heart that could not beat stone cold hands that no one wanted to touch granite feet that could not dance i was with . . . no real purpose i was everything i was to be and it was not enough now i am a wind sock of color and silk strangely subtle i wind-swim a twilight of Dawn i have become a pattern in the looking glass i coalesce and swirl cavort and disappear undulate in the manner of reeds in the current under a velvet canopy of stars i desire twisting i dance the dark waters liquid in the reflected fishing lights i am wavering window lights in a soft lava light land i have been numbered but I walk the pathways beyond number i have been catalogued but never cross referenced i have been a dragon a phoenix a flying unicorn i have been a silent moment in a silent house with a big picture window beyond which the sky turns on its axle twilight of the Dawn coming soft and unstoppable i have been a teacher of artifice a speaker for the dead a level 11 guardian warrior and a casualty of the psi wars in short i am nothing more than a refraction of the Universe and in a weird and wonderful fashion nothing less
Raven pulled a false eye from beneath her cloak and set it to hover in the air, just above her left shoulder. “A little light, if you please,” she enjoined. The illusion of light flicked into existence, illuminating the thick, coiling mists through which she moved. It was a grey, ghostly light, offering no warmth and little comfort.
Raven pulled a map from her cloak and considered. Moving so that the pounding surf covered the sound of its passage, the servoanimus drew closer to the woman in the black cape. Suddenly, she disappeared. It leaped to the place where she had been. Extending all of its sense pods, it sniffed the sand, listened to the wind, looked for footprints, to no avail. Screaming in frustration, the servo searched in ever widening circle.
An outcrop of basalt, one of many on the beach, resolved itself into a cloaked woman. In the course of time the servo led her to the lower passages of the citadel of the High Keeper.
Raven explored the passages and rooms, finding at last a brightly lit chamber, unlike any of the others. Everywhere there were rippling lights and the gentle thruming of vast machinery. In the center a single being, possibly female, floated just above a dais. It seemed not to notice her.
“Forgive me, your Eminence, but I have come on a errand
of some small importance.” “Isn’t it beautiful?” The voice came from everywhere at once and no where in particular. Raven continued addressing the figure on the dais.
“Of what are we speaking, exactly?”
“Why, this, our world. I hold it all here in perfect stasis, perfect symmetry. Balance is maintained.” “About that . . .” Raven began. “Day on one side, night on the other, the weather is constant, everything held in place, immutable, eternal.”
“Well, perhaps not everyone is totally delighted the status quo.”
There was a shrieking and the chamber quaked. “What?!”
“Both Dayside and Nightside are uninhabitable . . .”
“What is that to me?”
“A little variation . . .”
“Chaos! Insanity! Madness! . . .”
Incognito, Raven waited. In time the Keeper calmed. “Your Eminence?”
“And be destroyed?” There was a long silence.
“Very well, you are safe for the moment, show yourself.” control panel morphed into a woman in a black cape.
“I have been very inconsiderate,” Raven said moving toward the dais. “I can see that you have devoted a great deal of yourself to your work. Will you please show me more?”
“Show me how you hold the stars constant. How you keep the oceans in their place. I am very interested.”
“When first you came, you did not speak such.”
“That was before. Now I have come to appreciate the marvelous symmetry of your work and I want to see more.”
The Keeper considered, then started. “This world was not always such. There was Chaos upon the land. Over the course of billions of years the proper control machinery was built . . .” As the Keeper spoke, images flicked in the air of the chamber. Raven could see that theirs had truly been a hostile planet. She also saw that destroying the Keeper would end all life on the planet. At length the history was unfolded.
“My lady,” Raven said, “How is it that you monitor the current state of our world?”
“Through my eyes.”
“Forgive me, a simple organic creature. I do not see your eyes.”
“They are here.” Two vast panels flickered into life and Raven could see vistas of their planet. The Keeper went on to explain the pains she took to keep everything in perfect balance. Raven slid the eye from her pocket, and whispered to it.
“My lady! The sun, it moves!”
“But my lady . . .”
“Leave now, I have not the time.”
Raven, chuckling to herself, looked across sand, the ocean to the rising sun. The hidden eye she had planted would keep the vistas changing just enough. As long as the Keeper believed her eyes, night would follow day, spring would follow winter, and winter follow fall and so on. Not Chaos, but a new kind of balance.
When the flame of the volcano is spent The hole left. . . The shaft holds the memory of fire The mountain born of the rising Becomes hollow – except for the memories Some memories of destruction Some memories of forces that are no rightly understood Mostly dark memories in the form of dark creatures At the bottom of the passage to the light Her tiny voice says, “I am named Weary. Tis a sad name.” The dragon turns away “Please gentle beast, what is it that troubles you?” The dragon grumbles a sigh “If it please you tell me. . .” “Do you remember the sky?” She is silent “Lady, do you remember. . .?” “Dragon, what would heal you?” “My hurt is self inflicted, but yours was bought at a cost.” She suppresses a sob The other shadows cluster and shuffle in ignorance At the bottom of the shaft Chygon Leatherwing leans back, considers And looks to the sky All other creatures follow his gaze Most quickly look away In that they hate the Light None expect the sound eruption As his roar permeates the fabric of the living rock And all fall back as he leaps toward the sky Clawing Flapping Lifting by sheer force of will He ascends the volcanic chute Most fall back But one of the guardian demons Still at a distance challenges "Dragon Cease!" Chygon calls "I know you not nor have a name by which to call you But stand aside or you will not like what happens next" The demon issues smoke Twin lasers cut through it The demon causes the stones to fall Rock meets titanium scale and diamond skeleton Rock loses The demon calls out "Cease! Your passage up this shaft will let in the light. I will never allow light here" Closer now 1. The dragon says , "Impede me at your peril" The dragon has not hesitated The demon disappears a microsecond before the dragon reaches it Chygon is singing a song A lost song filled with lost chords It is part of his ascent The far lip of the volcano Whips by and he is above the earth Still ascending Then the sun strikes him in the full And he opens his wings to their fullest Now as it turns out The underside of a rainbow dragon's wing Can be very reflective And holding himself above the world By force of will he Gathers the full spectrums of Light on the undersides of his wings He gathers the low thudding infrareds All the colors of the rainbow Gathers the saber toothed ultraviolets Gathers frequencies that can not be named And squeezes them into a coherent beam The sizzling beam shoots straight As only light can travel straight Piercing the gloom of the pit The light column strikes the bottom of the abyss thundering Scattering the dark minion Save one The bent figure of a fallen angel This tiny phoenix Lifting from the Depths . . . She meets him above the world Her wings restored to splendor “Clearly you are not Weary.” She laughs Her breath makes clouds “What is my name then?” Chygon considers Them closes his wings and plummets like a stone She follows him the way creatures who can not die fly He extends on the tips of his wings Rolls and vectors the sea Somewhere beyond the desert Somewhere far from the darkness He opens his wings and glides to the gentle turf Of a green-slade meadow aritious with spring flowers “Properly pronounced Your name is L'ianə, queen of the Meadow.” And at hearing her name properly said All the shadows fell from her shoulders And she laughs as though laughing for the very first time
The Traveller All her life Music from the Deep Forest Has found her Telling her there is more to Life Than is provided for in the philosophies of her Mom and Dad Songs of sirens in deep blue waters Dragon-folk are calling her . . . Chygon the Traveller Rukesyaer ~ teller of Tales She follows him but she doesn't like this Dark Path Doesn't like the Wind Doesn't like the Sky But if she tarries Drags her feet The Traveller might leave her And somehow that is worse . . . Home . . . its just a memory to her now And . . . she's no baby . . . Well . . . We shall walk the Dragon Path he told her Now she walks the Dragon Path All her life Music from the Deep Forest Has found her Telling her there is more to Life Than is provided for in the philosophies of her Mom and Dad Songs of sirens in deep blue waters Dragon-folk are calling her . . . Chygon the Rukesayer teller of Tales She grew up a Healer of the ill and the sad But there were so many And they just kept coming Then he appeared like a teacher like a lover And without asking He opened the East gate and let her follow on the Dragon Path She doesn't like this Dark Path Doesn't like the Wind Doesn't like the Sky But if she lingers Drags her feet The Traveller might leave her And somehow that is worse . . . He hasn't spoken and yet she knows his thoughts Hasn't touched her and yet he knows her heart But by the fire light his eyes danced As he spoke the way to the Far Places Where as a hero she'd stand This the Path Where Beauty met the Beast A Path ruled Magic Her soul longs for a future Down the Dragon Path All her life Music from the Deep Forest Has found her Telling her there is more to Life Than is provided for in the philosophies of her Mom and Dad Songs of sirens in deep blue waters Dragon-folk are calling her . . . Chygon the Traveler teller of Tales Colors in Darkness There is a color . . . I mean the path is dark But she sees a color . . . A phosphorescence . . . In the leaves . . . Maybe it was always there And her eyes have started to adjust Maybe he is calling this into existence . . . No somehow that isn't right She has always seen this But now it getting brighter And the sound She feels . . . hears . . . knows This . . . this vibration A gentle hum thrum of harmonies not quite heard But . . . I don't know somehow connected She has always heard this But now its getting . . . not louder stronger She knows the Dragon Path As much by feel as by sight And the Traveller . . . he glows A focus of star-light and forest-song And she laughs almost hysterically Because she sees her own hands Glowing . . . Balance is Retained The Rukesayer and the Tyro Pass for a forever time Walking a tunnel of Song Luminescence Many things and creatures have come to the limits of the Light But no closer Now somehow beyond the temporary concept of Time They come to a place not unlike a clearing in the Forests She reaches using the Touch-Far and feels the circularity the volume of the space The Rukesayer rummages through his backpack And pulls out a foxfire globe He lifts it to a place several man-lengths above the forest floor It hovers there He smiles His eyes the blue of a cyan sky He has brought her this far She'll have to make it the rest of the way She pulls a dog-eared copy of Rilke's 'Book of Hours' from her memory Becoming fully manifest in Space Flips through the pages: "Now the hour bows down, it touches me, throbs metallic, lucid and bold..." (He never fails her) She reaches out... looks directly into the shining eyes of the Traveller And touches the incandescent vibe The notes come alive... A shower of sparks Gently at first the merest whisper She sings a tone poem He answers A deep and throaty hum and the night moves . . . With gathering force Her eyes wild She speaks many prophesies Sometimes shouting sometimes whispering Always compelling He answered without and within words Within the hum the forest has taken on an electric blue haze Snakes of heat lighting coursed the bellies of the thin clouds The spaces between the trees resonates with strange electricity And the night moves toward . . . Life begins and ends a thousand times in the night Forces that are not rightly understood are released and contained in the pale light Great waves of resonate chord build and crest Each cadence gathering a greater voice Each beat building into the other Quaking the Earth Shaking the Sky And yet within it all Balance is retained Chaos in enveloped Order encompassed Anima and Amimus The eye of one within the other In one vast crashing Crescendo Everything becomes One thing Thunder echoes across the Land And the night moves toward Dawn The East At first dim and distant Progressing to a gentle azure Delicate close and comfortable Her smile as soft subtle and unstoppable as the Rising Sun His eye Clear as the Sky