A poem about time |
A Storm approaches. I sense her, though she is still far. Her warning melody invades my core, seeping… creeping… surreptitious into my essence. “I am coming for you…” she croons. Many Storms have I weathered, too many to number. She is different, this one. Her furry burns, an icy flame… salted with the exotic aromas of lands beyond my understanding. I am old, eldest of my Brethren. The change of many seasons have I endured. My Brothers whisper in awe and envy… over my stature. I wear time upon the twists of my body proudly for them… to inspire them. It is my purpose, my gift… to protect those of my realm, a silent sentry. Children of the Sky, Daughters of the Forest, find safe haven within my loving sanctuary… ever present in their need. Endless number the sons of Man who have sheltered within my shadow. I have guarded them since first they appeared lost and alone to these shores. Upon my welcoming arms have they frolicked… exultant in youthful adventure, their stories scratched upon my secret places. Upon my faithful arms have they whispered sweet professions… awakening in the promise of joy, their covenant proudly etched upon my body. Upon my enduring arms have they passed judgement… extinguishing the light of the wicked, their careless scars upon my limbs. The Storm beckons. She is impatient, drawing ever near. Unwilling participant in her waltz am I, swaying… swirling… helpless in her tempest embrace. “I am here, my love,” she shouts in triumph. I bend to her desire, never have I seen her equal. She is my mate, this one. Her deadly passion, a blazing icicle… a cunning dagger to my heart splits me asunder. My time is ended, the dance nearly complete. Finally a match have I met, but oh… what a song it was! |