Consensus thus reached
they lowered me to
the ground and swiftly
freed me from their net.
As quickly as they gathered
as quickly they dispersed;
a single guide remained
and motioned me to follow,
as our tongues were
unknown to the other.
The ground I trod was
unlike such I trodd’n
before – drifts
of sand piled white
with a bluish cast,
fine and particulate
such as in an hourglass
it laid about the landscape in great
mounds and furrows,
pik’d peaks and winsome
hollows
formed by the ceaseless
wind of the mighty creatures’ inhalation.
My guide led me
to an entrance cunningly
placed downwind
around the
windswept mounds
and beneath the whitish waves
we passed into the dwelling,
for dwelling is what it was.
The interior was enchantingly lit – my night
eyes took in a warren smooth and wide,
made of hardened sand
a thoroughfare proper with walls of
colored lichen casting a pearlish glow in
tones of copper, lapis, and sapphire.
The smell of cumin, coriander
and cardamom was forceful
as our path led inwards
slightly downwards
off the main
of our passage more
tunnels traced off in
gentle curves;
periodically I saw excavation
carved with great industry
both cavernous and small one of which
was our destination.
We entered a
cozy alcove, with nothing
inside but two hooks reminiscent
of spires sunk deep into the sides
a single figure rolling
a smaller twin of the net that arrested
my frenzied flight.
A scarcity of words passed
between the two; among patterns
of flashing light I heard “Engedi”
more than once.
The occupant made to pass
and leave to me this cave,
when an idea took me
before I could tease it out.
I understood this was to be
my perch so I plucked
a feather from my
damaged wing, it was
hanging by
a notion
and offered it to the
figure with the hammock.
Through motions of exchange,
they understood my meaning
and took from me my feather
and gave to me her hammock.
Before my guide
could turn and leave
I made a curious motion
with my hands,
indicating all around…
I believe my request was understood
when their orange crown glow’d
along with a solitary word:
Colnéndamb.
I pointed to my guide and
to the other walking out
and made the same curious motion.
Again the flash
and again one
word:
Kali’n’ago.
Reciprocation was obviated
when they turned
and walked away. So
I stretched the hammock
between two hooks
and collapsed again
into a dreamless sleep.
My awakening was much
less pleasant than my last
when I awoke upended
from the hammock in which
I lay.
It was the former occupant
proof the feather
I traded wafting down
as she climbed into
her hammock.
That they did not
understand the meaning
of a trade perplexed me and
by their actions I deduced
they had no knowledge of
the ways of civilization.
Ignorance, my constant companion
urged my swift departure;
I wander’d the warren
quickly becoming lost – not
merely due to the labyrinth of
bluish curving walls,
dead ends and cul-de-sacs
but also the disregard for
the sand under my feet,
as they constantly pried toward
my adored.
My body stiff and sore
no less for my rude
awakening – prying feet
loosened aching muscles but not
my injured wing,
it would not bear
flight until it healed.
I happened upon a cavern
as I was wand’ring by – inside
was a group of Kali’n’ago and they
were without their well made clothes.
What before I admired as
masterwork of weaving was instead
a matter of application:
The Kali’n’ago stood,
ankle deep in the sands of
that cavern naked as desire.
Their bodies faintly
glistened from the shoulders
through to shins and their bodies
the banded equal of their faces
in back and forth
stripes of violet, orange, and green.
They plunged upon their knees
and then onto the sand entire
rolling ’round and shoveling
the bluish white sand with both hands
making sure
no part of their bodies were left
untouched.
As they threw
two fisted hands full
of sand at each other my thoughts cast back
of sport with friends of my youth
in the lake or gentle bay
and for a pang’d moment I missed
them all terribly.
The figures then stood on
both feet and with a gentle
humming, their bodies luminescent,
the results of their frolics was
made fast and yet remained supple
as their hands smoothed
the sands of the other.
As I stood transfixed
in utter fascination
they ignored my presence
entirely
even as I felt
a prick from Aidos as my eyes
partook the scene.
I hurried on and suffered not
the fate of bleating Acteaon.
And as I let Curiousity
tread inside my boots
I came upon what could
only be the heart of the
village:
Many tunnels led into
and out
of a wide and hollowed
amphitheater in arc concave
where the actors would
take the stage at the
bend of the horse’s shoe
inclining gently from the
level floor and rising
to the ceiling spaced
equidistant from the other
towered seven columns of the
same bluish sand they molded
to themselves and made their
homes within
at each of those columns
three attendants slowly labored;
upon the curved surface
one of them carved delicate
soaring symbols with
a wooden slender tool
as another smoothed the sand
with both hands just ahead of that labor
the third stood just behind and
collected the dust of their
efforts while tossing it gently
in the air. All of them
sung in a joyful harmony as
their banded faces all cycled
in synchronicity.
Remarkable as this was
it was not the main attraction
for at the hollow of the bend
crescent mooned by the seven pillars
a placid pool of water,
shallow
spring fed and perfectly clear;
the pond stretched before the feet of
a tree
bearing fruit,
branches ripe and full
of a small reddish berry
so that a single solid branch
hung o’er the pond
rich with the reddish fruit
at its center.
Even as I beheld
the scene entire
a fish – it’s belly white
and soft,
the scimitar slash of
gills red and bare
broke the surface
it’s questing mouth reaching
for a berry on the tree.
It’s lips touched the fruit but failed
to seize the prize
with a wriggl’d arch of it’s back
fell back into the pond in
a quiet splash.
Such was the marriage of
this event with the
actions of the laborers that
I could not discern
if it were interruption or abruption,
as the labor fell to silence
in sound and application
the moment
the fish broke the surface
and began not anew until the
last drop reunited with
the ripples of the pool.
To this day I know not if
the languid script drawn upon
those haunting pillars was
history, philosophy, or prophecy
mayhap it was all three-
their calculations were a
mystery, resembling
the pik’d peaks and winsome
whorls of the landscape above.
