Wo{E}Men: Spaces and their Men

 

The king, prophesied, had returned.

They were shape-shifters of death, of havoc. Their faces erased of emotions, of love, of life.

Once upon a time, in the era of dragons and magick, was our tale told.

The dragon breathed and the city burned.

In vengeance was her city brought down. A mushroom of dust. Structure and bone.

In the crackling of the hearth, a story is told.

The throne long contested. The dragon, the custodian.

The childe, all soft of her, butterflies fluttering by, lights twinkling, she had asked of a story.

She had her stories. Now no longer simple. The sun was out, but men clashed.

Her stories, once, of grass and clouds. Full granaries, thanksgiving, meditation…the breeze caressing the skin.

The Mother ship was come. In her belly, ships of fury. Tamed.

By her favourite tree, distant stars floating, leaves… she remembered mother’s and father’s tales of distant galaxies.

Of planes, now grown into spaceships; man’s folly, hate, anger, grown – for fellow man.

The trees had been crossed. Dead men reposed in peace. A peace elusive when they breathed. Then, they were impassioned.

She remembered of nights mother danced… light, gay, spring in her steps.

The star, dying, a portal to another plane, to other dimensions.

For a time, mother wept for a love that was no more. Her grief consuming her, spurring her to avenge.

The dragon, soars across the city, about to shatter the placid morn.

The dragon, summoned from its lair.

The dragon, summoned from its lair.

The dragon, shadows of dark and light, death and life, stirs from its old life. Of peace. To the new of war.

Mother remembered of days when love smiled. The dark was come and those nights were long gone.

Come dawn, the city crackled. Empty, void of life.

A light, a spark, and father – mother’s love – was no more.

She imagines of other childes like her. In other places and times. They, too, dream of distant lands and eras. The light, a constant.

The shooting stars, lights from other dimensions… with tales to tell.

The windmill, in rhythm with supper’s fire, a mistress to the moon.

Once, mother told of fairy tales. Of places pellucid.

There must be other moons out there, the childe wonders.

Mother, like her Mothers before her, summoned the spirit of the dragon.

The light, always in her hand, the key.

The spaceship, a lie of peace.

The spaceship, a lie of travel.

The spaceship, it’s true purpose revealed. Man’s ingenuity and folly, at once. Man’s envy and dominion over others.

The dragon, a guardian of thrones.

The spaceship, a lie swallowed in bowels deep and dark.

Father, a crusader of wars. Just or not, he was a convict, of the higher meaning.

The gun carriages, evolved into planes, into war ships… man’s ingenuity and folly grew.

Mother, transposed, the dragon spirit was of another realm, another age.

Mother, like her Mothers before her, had been possessed of the essence.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1D7YAWyL1Pw