The Village On the Water Vi
But we of the Three Tribes live undiscovered
In the reverberating stillness of the
Three Gorges...
And are therefore unknown to the warring mongol;
His impassioned lusts -- his penchant for
Wanton destruction!
If he comes, let him pass us by
To continue his eastward migration in pursuit
Of more enduring conquests:-
Whipped-up dust, from flying hooves of
Their angry horses,
Forming in billowing red clouds to scatter
Into the inconceivable, gushing extremities
Of endless plains;
As we peasants, too, are sparsely scattered
As blown dandelion seed throughout
The flower-strewn glades
Of these heaving, tremulous hills;
Although, he has no interest in poor fishermen...
Such as we are...
Nor neither their poor fish.
He would just want to lay waste to our
Walled cities...
And, collapsing our regal towers,
Carrying nothing before him...
Crumble our empire into nought but rubble;
The Proud flags and banners of gold, orange,
Vermilions and rich crimsons
Torn down and thrown to the ground...
Trampled by many stamping hooves into the
Black, clammy leaf moulds
Of indifferent soils;
Rare arts and precious objects smashed
Into fragments to lie in pieces
Upon ruined mosaics;
Palaces and temples -- roofless -- derelict --
Opened to the raw winds and soaking rains:-
Through which, in the early morning,
Slow-wheeling rooks crowding the clearing
Skies can be seen;
And heard calling to one and other in
Base, nasal tones;
Fading, finely painted, ornate walls
Then overhung and heavily laden with vines,
Creepers and spreading ivies;
Once delicate tapestries --
Threadbare, sodden and rotted;
In desecrated jade halls -- toppled statues
Of long dead kings; in darkened corridors --
A subdued moaning,
That might only be the sounds of muttering
Wind,
Should be heard accompanied by
Sporadic chimes from rusted bells;
Deserted courtyards littered with high
Banks of stacked leaves;
And everywhere, in obvious testament to
Subsequent ferocious vandalism...
Very little remaining but an awful destitution.
Shuddering I put all thoughts aside...
Lift my feet to the comforting,
Warming fire.
Yellow Dragon roars amidst crashing
Turbulence!
Over green-slimed yellow boulders:-
A curtain of cascading water,
Further embellished by strengthening moonlight,
Shielding his impenetrable fortress;
He is a Fucanglong --
A "Dragon of Hidden Treasures".
All Dragons are endowed with Heavenly
Beneficence...which is why we are taught
Not to fear them.
The mother of Liu Bang, in her avid fecundity,
Dreamt of a Dragon...
And thusly conceived of him...and in that
Conceiving --
Spawned a Dynasty!
In Brookside Village, stone pontoons
Retreat further back from a swarming
Waterline;
King Ba palace -- relinquishes --
Slumps backwards onto its brooding
Mountain top;
As dappling Autumn sunlight so permeates
To layer upon the interior of all leafy
Woodlands --
So dappling Moonlight now layers upon the
Jumbled passageways of tightly crammed,
Interconnecting houses:-
Winding steps, which, in brazen daylight,
Leap upwards,
Strangely immobile and unnervingly devoid;
Rail and wall, supporting stepped roofs,
Cling even more tightly to the fierce
Mountainside.
Then...swirling wind subsides. Abates.
Chooses to seek shelter within densely
Populated banana trees.
Outlined in silver trim, against the
Enormity of this swelling moon,
Turned towards the stars,
Towering Stone-Tablet inflates --
And Expands!
Absolute. Defiant. Rooted. Steadfast;
Determines to remain invincible.
Prepares to refute those evil demons
Who inhabit the long shadows of the prowling
Night.
Copyright © John Fleming | Year Posted 2020
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