Post by Jan on May 28, 2005 16:38:07 GMT -5
Snow
She called to me. Patterning my dreams and colouring my visions with a pureness of purpose, waking me in the darkness like a lovers’ soft embrace. She touched me; kissed me with icicle lips and I was bound to follow, willing as a puppy.
Softly, softly in the crystal darkness, she clothed the naked ground. Gently persuasive she imposed her iron will upon the meadows and the moors, transforming them from dark unwelcoming mud-scapes to a wonderland of silver-white brightness.
Betrayer of fox and cheater of hare, she cloaked their highways and their secret leys, revealing their foot prints for all to see. I watched her dancing on the wings of the storm, a ballet of seduction, bidding the unwary to follow deep into the night to the Halls of Faye, the Realms of OtherWorld …. And although I was conscious of her trickery, still I followed.
Tonight I shall sing the Song of the North with the Choir of Odin. A Song of the Old Times, conceived by Ice and fathered by Aurora, renewed again on this Sacred night.
We gathered in the Ice Caverns of Imlec, a hundred thousand strong. Each one of us drawn by the tantalising majesty of her jewelled beauty. We sang of death, of ice cold surrender, a stilling of the pulse and a cooling of the blood…. We sang of the storm-raged sky and the snow-ravaged wilderness. The Hawk on the wing and the Fox in her lair. Then we sang a new Song…. A melody of life, of birth, of hope for the future of this fragile planet, for this time of death will pass…<br>
I woke in deep fresh glory of a winter’s morning. Snow, deep and drifting, pure and unsullied, carpeted the landscape as far as I could see. Sheer, unspoiled beauty. But the Kiss of the Ice Queen still lingered on my lips and I knew fresh truths…. There is old memory in the snow.
She called to me. Patterning my dreams and colouring my visions with a pureness of purpose, waking me in the darkness like a lovers’ soft embrace. She touched me; kissed me with icicle lips and I was bound to follow, willing as a puppy.
Softly, softly in the crystal darkness, she clothed the naked ground. Gently persuasive she imposed her iron will upon the meadows and the moors, transforming them from dark unwelcoming mud-scapes to a wonderland of silver-white brightness.
Betrayer of fox and cheater of hare, she cloaked their highways and their secret leys, revealing their foot prints for all to see. I watched her dancing on the wings of the storm, a ballet of seduction, bidding the unwary to follow deep into the night to the Halls of Faye, the Realms of OtherWorld …. And although I was conscious of her trickery, still I followed.
Tonight I shall sing the Song of the North with the Choir of Odin. A Song of the Old Times, conceived by Ice and fathered by Aurora, renewed again on this Sacred night.
We gathered in the Ice Caverns of Imlec, a hundred thousand strong. Each one of us drawn by the tantalising majesty of her jewelled beauty. We sang of death, of ice cold surrender, a stilling of the pulse and a cooling of the blood…. We sang of the storm-raged sky and the snow-ravaged wilderness. The Hawk on the wing and the Fox in her lair. Then we sang a new Song…. A melody of life, of birth, of hope for the future of this fragile planet, for this time of death will pass…<br>
I woke in deep fresh glory of a winter’s morning. Snow, deep and drifting, pure and unsullied, carpeted the landscape as far as I could see. Sheer, unspoiled beauty. But the Kiss of the Ice Queen still lingered on my lips and I knew fresh truths…. There is old memory in the snow.