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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.
Copyright ©
John Fleming
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