The amber rays of the dying sun blew across the Skylord’s back.
Feathers rustling, birch leaves chattering & gossiping
Cloaked in shadowed airfoils, spanning in either direction
His pinfeather guise every element unleashed with ambivalent form
Harmony. Earth. Fire. Water. Air. Speech.
Skylord retired from His lonely perch
Gullywashed, the Queen, called to He
The urgency of Her petition acted as a compass
Guiding His way, They meet, locked in their uncertain flight
Desperate, They stared into the abyssal reaches of the still city
Dizzied by the onslaught of newfound privacy
Lost in the grounded magnitude of their limited exposure
“Show us, please, the human condition,” Singing in mutual puzzlement
The angry wind seemed to guzzle their words too quickly
Not allowing for the essence of that whine to breath
“Where are all the people?” His pretty Queen demanded of the clouds
Scowling at the silence of their billowy angelic faces
Once more, She prodded
Their weightless subjects could only mutter
Nonsense. Gibberish. Backward speak.
“Is it finally over?” The Monarchs shrieked in frustration
Circumstance. Lashing out as the matter began to manifest
Time lulled, a seamless vessel caught in the laziness of lapping waves
The hoarse, tired voice rose up as reality, their Advisor finally checked in
“The world is Yours,” It spoke, resting from the great effort of the folly
“Gone?” They concluded.
“Changed.” They were informed.
“What now?” She sighed.
The river shuddered in response as the ice gave way
The flowages of water danced
Hidden beneath the smooth, pale stones
The rusty-bronze soil began to loosen
Seedlings emerged from their frozen cocoons
The trees cackled during the Spring thunderstorms
The language of the flocks began to change
The heat of summer began to hasten the larvae
Wriggling with new life in all their fervent passion
The carnal chorus of impatient frogs rose
Drowning out the questions which followed
An overture of madness in that silly interaction of life
Sage-green tadpoles wriggled
Newly swaddled under their waterlily blankets
“CAW!” The flimsy blindfold gave way
The Monarchs saw it with Their own eyes
Buoyantly drifting along with the swells of the Earth’s breath
Suspended in ecstasy, it was far from over
A rainbow flurry of unimaginable colors.
Filtered through the sight of flight.
The throne restored – Nature their Queen.
Ruled with absolute authority.