The Village On the Water VII

Raised Stone-Tablet eternally abiding under Towering Heavens endless span; and in its Solititude...charts the migrations of all our Highest Lord's cestial rockets. Because of Stone-Tablet, bestowed unto us, we are Gifted the Holy-Texts Dictated by the Jade Emperor himself. Nought but his holy laws, while refuting all Others, shall pertain... And pertain above all else -- Even beyond the last days of the World! Holiest of Heavens most sacred symbols translated Out of the pens of the very first scribes When instructed to convey their Master's ancient Wisdom. This which was conjured up from the very depths Of Stone-Tablets inpenetrably melded stratum While hidden away beneath impossibly glued Minerals and unimaginably fired grains; And held tight within - even more tighter than if Gripped in the deathly bone-crushing talons Of Earth's Fiercest eagle! Thereafter, at our great Lord's command, Sunken back down to reside in perpetuity; Unless to be invoked by those whom are the Most adept and learned of all the mystics... They, the practitioners of the most enabling Arts; But only with indescribable presence of rarely Available star-burst could this ever be contrived. From out of the rapid darkening... More menacing sounds un-nerving and unrecognized; An involuntarily shudder as I suspect the Treacherous woods have crept closer to the Shoreline. Retiring windows fading inwards; then fading More inwards... Before fading further inwards even still. Blurry candles withdraw with the windows; Soon to be cautiously extinguised as the Low-flickering flame is smothered at the throat. Outside-things that were vaguely recognizable Becoming more...unrecognizable. But that said, any deserving village gladly Welcomes the onset of nightly slumber. Why would it not? Or so it should with any village that wishes Itself to be spoken well of. Everything now to be held in the balance... Albeit for just an infinitesimal pause in time. But that is not the true nature of everthing. And everything, however slowly or imperceptively... Has, ultimately, to change; even stars have to Some day die. For only the Gods will know immortality. But, in an instant, the fulcrum shifting! An unequal loading sliding the balance across And weighing it down in favour of uncertainty. Inside-things no longer reassuringly familiar... But, disconcertingly...unfamiliar. Yet in this moment of quickened shifting... I find I am guardedly contented; Heartened when able to make out some immediate Everyday objects. So it is always the same in all confines if One is surrounded that is by things which we have Acquired through effort or reward. Or perhaps we acquired them as gifts? Or perhaps they were taken as keepsakes? Even princes must accept confines just As a caged songbird knows only birds from Birdsong... But still knows contentment; Be it though just a certain kind. Let me then count my blessings -- Of which there are many! Do I not have a full stomach? I have eaten well from that which the cool blue Waters have provided for us. Rice from those stepped terraces where we Traded for fish. Quenched my thirst with chill Water, held in Brown earthenware pots, Collected from the Faery-Waterfalls. Often is the time I have stood at these magical Falls, as softening dusk encroaches, And marvelled at those minuscule hovering specks Of vibrant, pulsating light; Visiting people have mistaken them for fireflys On the wing... But we think of them as winking faeries lanthorns Hanging by invisible cords Finer than any worm's delicately spun silken Thread. Suspended among the idling steam above finely Misting spray...a Faery domain hidden from sight Behind a drawn veil to confuse the ignorant and Unsuspecting. And all this could be tightly curled up into a Single fern bell. If hope teaches anything...we can hope there is Still a little bit of magic left in the World.