In the beginning era of a distant day
that is always and never now
there came the dawn I left Vanin Nos
just of an age to choose crusade
having tumbled long the treadworn trail
down the gentle slopes of Philistia,
softly by the Kingdom of the Abdalles,
until I found myself on the coast of Pride,
a stiff wind lifting my mane
fresh off the Gulf of Arrogance.
I gathered my crew, hard proven
tough and scarred from lands unyielding
each in their own unconquered:
Bigotry and Prejudice, Ignorance and Fear
Hatred and Envy, Greed and Vengeance
lending their strength to my own.
Together we razed the forest ashore
from sapling to copse to towering timber
head bent and fingers prying
we stole what we liked from
the pulp profusely pounded
and with them we fashioned
a vessel solid and unbending
with oaken conviction constructed
bound together in fevered pitch;
our eyes on the horizon
we trusted the winds of intuition
and deduced the current of logic until
at last we sailed, one hand on the wheel
one chained to oars of called out cadence
sails taut and sweat from below
our froth and foam carried us outwards
lulled on gulls wings and salt spray
the slap of the waves abeam
we slipped the straits of Ginnungagap
as Reason drowsed on the masthead;
she failed to note the lee shore
and all the glittering lights of Nod.
On Dream’s rocky shore we crashed
born on waves splintered thusly
my mighty vessel flounder’d, losing
Ignorance to the surging reef and
Vengeance to the gauzy salt foam.
Fear plucked us from the flotsam
faded to shade on the moonlit beach;
we gasped shivering on the sand
spied close at hand Endymion’s Cave
that slumbering youth in Selene’s shine
in his grotto below where Beauty sighs
up above in her castle, sleeping.
In a tower perfectly rounded
limned by a singular flame
a single window draped in
hues of orange lucubration
its warm welcome entrance
a spiral round’d stare as much
upwards as inwards and
at the end of the clockwork
steps beyond the stony plinth:
an altar for a singular form
at her feet a lantern, covered
at her head a candle, perfumed
in between lace silken and fine
and I, held captive by the view
felt the stars move above me.
In the corner standing proudly
Aidos, her guardian mute and forgiving;
blessing well my wishes as
no mere figmagairies for an oubliette
but rather a tenacious vine wound round
clinging tightly the raven spandrels
of hard a won ataraxia
and a well worn phronesis.
So with the goddess’ permission
I drew back the lace and leant
to listen for my whisper of fate:
No one more surprised than I
her eyes slowly opened, the
fingers of her right hand traced
my startled brow on the left,
and the fingertips of her left
a sweetness on both my lips –
then she cradled my face
Beauty’s fingers feathers deep
in my hair and by my right ear
soft by her mouth, she breathed:
“You will not see my like again until
beyond the realm of Oludumaré,
around the Cape of Aphrodite and past
the cities Laodicea and Peragamum.”
I opened to reply and
she silenced me with
a kiss that slew both
Vanity and Cowardice
and with a fiery pain born of
burning sand writhing fluid on
ground memories too fine for sifting:
I cried –
So how then shall joy know joy?
Upon whose brow shall
rest this duskmoon eve
and on whose feet the base clay?
Alas! Our time was nearly
over, she falling into torpor
as her lace fell to the floor
yet not before a gesture to
the sword sheathed by her side;
our trembling hands grasped it
as she slipped down with
a sigh, “’ware her brother Kleos
who is sure to arrive.” It was
then I noticed Aidos, undone
by a kiss, bleeding fast in the
corner awaiting her abyss
I slid over beside the window
awaiting Shame’s brother – when
he came in through the
cut square, all bluster and noise
He saw his twin pierced asunder,
Beauty’s lace upon the floor,
and then he felt the edge
bequeathed from my adored.
It was my first real sight
of it, lain bare across Pride’s
neck – along it’s length
a single word: ACQUISITION
and it had heft – he swallowed
almost undoing himself, such
was the keenness of the blade.
“Who is this?” Kleos asked.
“The one who would slay two
gods and defile another all
in one night? Tell me, tell me,
Pride must know.
How did you rouse Beauty
from her eternal slumber?
Tell Me, Pride must know.”
I held the blade steady
my reasons true and good
to tell Pride my name
could be the last thing
I would ever do, yet
I also knew I could not lie
and remain the blade’s steward –
a contradiction with me between,
so I reached for truth,
knowing that it is often paradoxical.
“I search Beauty’s light and I seek
what is good. The goddess reached
for me,” I said, “and your sister
stood mute – it was Beauty’s boon,
that severed the anchors of Shame.
This blade, given to me
your arrival foreseen; what you do
with this knowledge, remains to be.”
And then I let him go.
As one does not hold Pride
captive and remain unscathed.
Kleos turned and faced me
his gaze was fierce and raw
He spoke not a word as he
took my measure head to toe:
“I know you,” Pride said, “You
are the one who razed the forest
off the coast that bears my name;
I was standing on your forecastle
right up until you crashed – it
was I that lulled sweet Reason
and not the gull or salt spray.
Now your vessel is in ruin.
I’ve been your companion before
book passage once again, if you can.”
“‘Tis true I, I see it now, when
your hand was on the wheel
and not mine alone.” I replied. “But
now I burn with Beauty’s kiss and
Pride must know its place.” He
scowled and shifted his gaze
for he heard I spoke the truth
and I knew I had the best of him
when I saw Aidos stir
back from the abyss. Yet Kleos
was not to be put off so easily.
