I stood as a tree

Dropping . . .
Falling . . .
Somewhere below the quicksilver
surface of consciousness
Leviathans stir the oceanic waters
of the sleeping mind

The movement of their mass
ripples the tenuous film of awareness
And fragments the sea
into a mosaic of swaying reflected images

Shadow soft healing touches
on my face
Water droplets
on fresh green leaves

Gentle caresses
Velvet whispers
the breeze across the waters

I stood as a tree
on the mountain side
Seeking only
the sun’s golden glow
Drinking light
through silvered leaves
Drinking water
through a thousand hidden roots
Moving only
to dance with the Wind

Glacial
Geologic
Everlasting

Speaking Hope where there is no Light

The Magician moved
His hands a blur

He twisted Light out of Darkness
Conjured songs out of memories
songs filled words dark and true
and she sang

Songs of the function of Fire
the function of Rhyme
Speaking Love’s resilience
despite betrayal and spite

She sang
of the human spirit surfacing
from depths deeper than faith
where leviathans swim

Sang
of Order from Chaos
Life arising from the breast of Death

Speaking Hope where there is no Light
Miraculous deeds worthy of gods in times like these
New discoveries that lift the definition of human
like those of song and fire

Nova Mythos ~ Britt & Mora

Under a velvet sky of jet, ablaze with a billion silver stars, a man and a woman sat facing a campfire. Britt scooped a handful of sand and watched it slip through his fingers. The wind played with the sand as it struck the ground, making it dance.
“The sun will be up soon,” he offered.
“Tell me a story,” Mora said, her voice soft as reeds in a stream.
“Once there were four guys in the desert. Four turbulent and troubled individuals. One was named Reason, another named Magic, the third named Poetry, and the last one named Art,” Britt began.
“All men, no women?”
“All right three men and a woman . . . named Art. That’s short for Artilina. They were regents in their own right and owned many things of great beauty and worth, yet they were unhappy. They had come to the desert to forget the future and deny the past. The man called Reason had concluded that he was disconnected from everything else in the universe. Magic had become dark and filled with dark visions of pain, blood and decay. Poetry had become a diseased lover, perverted beyond recognition. Art had become disfigured in a war and could no longer bring herself to think of anything but her own despair.”
“Heavy overtones there . . .”
“I’m making it up as I go along,” Britt replied.
“That’s what frightens me,” Mora said with just the hint of a grin.
“Well they traveled for seven days without incident. On the eighth day they met a young man full in his prime,” Britt said.
“What was he wearing?” Mora asked.
“A loin cloth,” Britt answered.
“You wish . . .”
“Hush a minute, this is my story. Well Magic spoke first saying in a loud voice ‘I am death and life, how do you greet me?’, and the man replied ‘I embrace you.’ Wrathful with the man’s response Magic grew wings and talons and attacked the man. The man ducked and slapped at the thing that attacked him. In the battle the man lost his right eye, but finally he managed a grip on Magic’s throat. He pulled Magic up to his face and looked deep – with his remaining eye – into the eyes of Magic, only to find that there was nothing really there.
Next Poetry came up to him and said ‘I am your lover and your disease, how do you greet me?’, and the man replied ‘I dance with you.’
Poetry began the dance. He rippled and flowed in the sun and the man kept step. Often it seemed that Poetry would outreach the man, but then the man would pull from some inner oceanic soul and keep the step. The two blurred into one form and it was hard to tell one from the other. In time Poetry gave out and fell dead on the sand. The dance had badly hurt the man and he could barely stand.
Art came to the man and looked up at him with fearful eyes ‘How will you greet me?’, she asked. The man did not answer. “Will you not speak to me?” she cried out but the man felt he had no business with Art and so she died in hopeless despair.
Upon seeing their lifeless forms, the man, stricken with guilt, sought to flee. He feared that Reason would exact punishment on him for his part in the demise of Magic, Poetry and Art. He feared that he deserved it.
The man, half hobbling, ran and Reason ran after him. Despite the man’s injuries, they ran for a full day and a full night. Finally, unable to run any farther, the man stopped and turned to face Reason. ‘What have you to fear,’ asked Reason, ‘for I have brought you the things that you will need.’ Reason gave the man a new mechanical eye to replace the one destroyed by Magic. Reason gave the man a new knee joint that worked almost as well as the old one but the man still walked with a noticeable limp. Then Reason gave the man a heart augment device that would keep his blood rich and flowing. This did not keep the man from feeling guilt; but it kept the guilt from killing him.
The man took all these things and set off to wander the world. In fact, he wanders the world even now . . .”
There was a moment’s silence filled with the hissing flicker dance of the fire.
“What’s his name?” Mora asked.
Britt leaned back, his eyes dancing in the flickering fire light. “You tell me,” He said.

A Dragon and a Fire Angel Turn up in a Bar ~ D’l Kyrug

The Silver dragon says
“And so fair fire-angel
what has happened to your wings?”

“They got stuck in the gates
whilst I was trying to escape the forbidden gardens of desire”

“Hon, that has got to hurt
Not unlike the time I got my tail caught
in the tilt-o-whirl of love”

Nodding agreement the fire angel remains silent
swimming deep currents of memory in her thoughts

The Silver Dragon stamps his foot
shouts, “The Service in this place leaves a lot to be desired
Can”t a dragon get a drink in this dump?”

The fire angel turns towards him, eyes lowered
and hands him a silver mug with potent red wine
He looks confused but takes the proffered cup with appropriate reverence
and mumbles something in dragon
“You are One So Rare
most hallowed and revered. . .
When did you start tending bar?”

But out loud he says
“Thank you m”Lady
and may the day of your healing be hastened”
then he breaths fire across the beverage
The vapors spill over
Cause a fog to rise around all the patrons of the place
Most don’t seem to care
and the rest are smart enough to know better

He drinks deep
as only dragons are prone drink

Alive, the Breaking of Day ~ D’l Kyrug

Sunrise
or is it only the fever speaking to my sickened mind?

Sunrise
in tired eyes
and mist covers the lake
as shivers take my body once again

Choirs of angels
chorus of demons
deep harmonics of infrared and razor sharp ultraviolets. . .
Rainbows dance in the coming sun
I am weary
bleary and. . . strangely alive

Hands?
Yes. . .
Legs?
Oh yeah. . .
Let’s just sit here a bit

Darkness
holding on to my back
slipping around behind me
at the speed of dark
leaving its roots in shadows on me

Daybreak pours across the Face of the East
Golden liquid honey
cascading into my face, hands and
soul
Night retreats to the West

Oddly. . .
The cool of the Darkness
adds to the comfort of the Dawning Light

Balance

A glistening, glittering spider’s web touches everything
An array of light and shadow. . .
and somehow beyond understanding
I am alive

Alive!

T’alcydon – Teacher of Metamorphs

T’alcydon is a very clever . . .
Well he’s a dragon at the moment
In this particular pocket ‘verse called Easalin
T’alcydon can be a very clever teacher
a very clever Rukesayer

Mentor/tormentor
of the young Metamorphs
the young Tyros
He has walked the Seven pathways
Has Spoken the one True Tongue
Has known the whip of Light
and the Ice of Darkness

T’alcydon knows
That not all actors are metamorphs
But all metamorphs are actors
Knows that the problem of the metamorph
Is that you never really know
your own True nature
Never really know
if you’re faking
He Knows
That young metamorphs
are the most dangerous

He knows this
And loves them . . .
every one

The Incident on Exu-Hector ~ Nuxy & Chyfrin

Molomites were bred for pain
by a warring faction of the NeoTarpels
Hideous swarms of ferocious bits of animate matter

None will admit to their creation
but bonded dragon/human teams were often retained
on the third world of the twin star, Exu-Hector
to remove outbreaks of the weapon

The cleansing fire of the dragon
the insidious wit of their bonded human
and the warrior reflexes of both
scoured the hills and glens eradicating the scourge

Nuxy and Chyfrin
uninjured but exhausted
had decided to convalescence on-world for a few days

On a summer’s night
on a world where the skies were seldom dark enough for stars
they walked by a river

Nuxy asked questions about human poetry
Chyfrin poured forth extemporaneous verse
attempting to appear far more gifted
than he truly was

A sudden whip-crack behind them
Chyfrin was rolling forward with a fledgling on his back
His shoulder leathers fending the claws
and the armor plate turning the crushing grip
In milliseconds he danced the fight dance
using a talon
instead of his more deadly weapons

The attack would have killed a human in an instant
but her partner was holding his own
Nuxy watched
fascinated by the way that humans
were so rigid in movement
and yet so flexible

Able to contain herself no longer
She flowed the way darkness comes when the light goes out
Over, under, around and on top of the fledgling
in a terrifying dance of titanium scale and muscle

Chyfrin restrained her in the kill moment
saving the young one’s life
In her rage
she nearly struck her partner

In the Chamber of Elders
Lyamiss, a Recon Class dragon was forced to admit
that he had spent a time filling the fledgling with distrust for Chyfrin
and all humans
That Lyamiss had sent the fledgling
to injure or kill the human

Nuxy climbed the Arch of Aheem and screeched
“Why?
Lyamiss, why have you disgraced yourself
and my family in this manner?”

Three time she admonished him
The Recon hissed and danced the shadow slide

Nuxi dropped to the floor in full attack posture
“Elders, I claim the right of dispensing this. . .”
“Nuxi
We of the Chamber conclude that the human must have a say
in these proceedings”

Lyamiss screeched
“Humans! Speaking in the Chamber. . .”
The Master of Arms restrained Lyamiss
in a most embarrassing fashion

“Chyfrin
It is understood that you showed restraint when attacked. . .
Is this fact?”

“Yes, High Ones”

“And why is this?”

“I would never kill
if hurting would suffice”

“You have shown a warrior’s heart and earned a right to speak
What say you, human?”

“Lyamiss. . .
Why did you send this young one?”

“She
Nuxy was to be my nest-mate
She was to be my sky and moon
She is all. . .
She. . .”

The Chamber was silent