Vision 6, The Tempest

Eldest sleeps before the fire.
Spinning Dreams.
Still as stone.

If you gaze through yellow flames
heat rising from redgold embers
that which you see on the other side
dances.

Flickering flames
light seeking heaven
woodtrapped souls
freed through fires gentle kiss.
There,
ancient dancing sunlight
captured
over a thousand summer days
ten thousand days
stored away for the winter
like blankets
in a sweet smelling
cedar chest,
our summer days of childhood
which we burnish in our minds
as we grow older,
are released.

Summer magic binds
Air and Water
by the spells within leaves
to make winter fires.

Air and Water bound together,
make fire.

Is it not odd
that stones made of sunlight
should be black as coal?

Eldest dreams,
dream thoughts become words,
and so make the world.

Words.

Spoken into the Great Silence.

And the Darkness.

The word is the thing,
and thus
the thing is the world.

And so the world was thus
spoken into being.
To speak is to make,
to name is to rule,
thusly
to take away the word,
is to destroy the rule,
and unmake the world.

The word is the thread
upon which
hangs the world.

So
shall we write them down?
Inscribe the word
within a book?
upon leaves
made of living things?
shall we place them within
a safe place?
Write them upon hearts?
Place them within souls?
Or hide them in a rotten bark
set adrift
upon the salty
storm tossed sea.

Salt tears lost
within the salty sea.

"What a trouble was I to you then!"

"Oh a cherbim thou wast that did preserve me!"

In the middle world,
here,
the dwelling place of men,
neither angels nor devils
partaking of the nature of both.
Here
between the earth buried roots
of the great tree
and
the great limbs and branches
which dwell in the heavens,
rises the trunk, the shaft,
spanning the gulf
between the world below
and the world above.

Shall we climb it?
Climb the great knotted trunk
of the world tree Yggdrasil
whose branches tossing
are the wind between the stars
Oak leaves tipped
with souls fire.

Shall we cry out in amazement?
Watch St Elmos fire
shimmer upon the crosstrees
the mast
the sails.

Ariel flamed blue amazement
and struck such fear into the Princes heart
that he may have cried

"Hell is empty and all the Devils here!"

As Miranda wept.

Salt tears lost
within a salty sea.

"I have done all, but for the love of thee,
only for the love of thee."

"We split! We split!"

And so all were lost.

Shall a brother plot
his brothers death?

Embers glow
with the light of the sun
and the sun burns
with the light
of the word
infalling forever
spins
towards the center.

So let us weave
our web of words
from these threads
finer
than thought itself.
Let us then weave
from them
an eternal tapestry
of finest work
in bright colors
or in shades of darkest night.

Let it be
a tale told by a mad man
filled with sound and fury
signifying
nothing.

Yet another mad king.
Subject of the Fates.
The Three Sisters.

Kings alone?

It is said that even the gods are subject
to the dictates of the three Daughters,
Sisters,
Fates.
the one who spins the thread,
the one who weaves the thread,
the one who cuts the thread.

Is even Eldest
who dreams the world
bound by the Fates?

Who shall choose then
whose life shall be the warp?
whose the weft?
Who gods.
Who devils.

Look!
There!
What do you see?

"There is wood enough within!"

 A wick is made of thread
and the threads make the wick
drawing the souls liquid upward
to the flame
to burn upon the air
giving light and life
even as it is destroyed.

Destroyed?
By no means!
Transformed!
The word itself declares,
"Nothing shall be created
nor destroyed,
only transformed".

"Full fathom five, my father lies
of his bones are corals made
these are pearls that were his eyes..."

And what does he see
with his new pearl eyes?

Undergoes some sea change
into something rich and strange.

And the other
the one who seeks
to unspeak the words,
to unwrite the text,
is he the child of?
Or scion?

A log shifts upon the hearth
by chance
within the hall
where Eldest sleeps
dreaming
his feet towards the fire
the doors locked and barred
from the souldeath which awaits outside
with the three
borne upon a dreaming barque
found stormtossed upon the Sea of Dreams .

"For you, most wicked sir, whom to call brother..."

The ten thousand brazen shields
reflect the dancing fires light.
The ten thousand iron spearpoints flicker
bright as stars dancing in a winter dark sky.

An oaken log
shifts upon the hearth,
by chance,
there at the center of the Hall
rolls,
falls,
shatters into embers
yellow gold glowing
sparks scatter
like angry golden bees
in the eddying air
fly upward
through,
out,
the smoke eye gazing
into the nightdark
dreaming sky
the star dwelling firmament
above the great hall.

The three who wait
before the spell locked door
beyond the pales
with night pinioned Thought,
and sable pinioned Memory,
shoulder perched
ear whispering
upon she
of the golden eyes,
Priest and Watcher,
together
watch them dance
ever higher
scatter to the four winds

and disappear.