Lady Luck

     "She is here, Father Fortune."
     "Let her enter."
     The great doors opened silently, permitting the lone figure to enter. She strolled in, a whimsical bounce to her step. Despite the hard floor, her hooves did not clatter or clop, but almost silently sung as they touched the jade floor. The girl was humanoid, other than the hooves. Even amongst her kind she was considered a great beauty, and to mortal men she was irresistible. She had brilliant golden hair that hung to her shoulders. Seven braids of different colors swung in her locks, one cut from each of her six sisters, and the seventh being her own. She had a pixie face, with bright eyes that sparkled with unpredictable mischief.
     With jaunty smugness she walked toward her father, who stood with regal surety at the front of the room. His great albatross sat on his shoulder, wings periodically unfurling to their full length, displaying his majestic pinions. Her father had eight braids, one from each of his brothers plus his own. She and he were much alike: the oldest and the last born, but he was from an age more ancient than she.
     Arriving before him, the girl curtsied, then twirled with a vibrant laugh, hair and short skirt splaying out in splendid vividness. Her voice rang out "Oh Father! I am so gad you called me. I have missed you."
     The tall lord raised an eyebrow and responded dubiously, though not unkindly, "While I appreciate the sentiment, daughter, I am sure you have been keeping yourself busy with your countless suitors."
     Her features maintained an impish smirk. "Well, can I not both miss you and enjoy my time away?"
     "Certainly you insist that you do, so it is not a question of whether you can."
     "Especially witty today, are we?"
     "I thought I was witty every day."
     "Normally, your brother takes that role. I think, though, that discussing witticism was not the reason you called me."
     "Usually you prefer the playful banter. Especially rushed today? Alas, you are correct. Daughter, I have summoned you for a very specific reason. Recently there have been some...complaints, more than usual. Complaints in regards to your dealings with your suitors."

Living Entwinement

To embrace is to hold life in our hands.
To carry a child is to bear the future.

Flesh and Spirit

The spirit is strong,

The flesh is weak,

The spirit thinks,

The flesh speaks.

The soul doth yearn,

And the body aches,

The spirit wrestles,

And the body quakes.

But spirit and flesh,

Unified and whole,

Are slivers of divine,
Embryos of deific soul. Ω

Terra, Ar e Mar

Read more for an english translation

A minha terra bela,

Verde, por chover demais,

Não há terra como ela

Que tem qualidades tais.

O ar é meu alento,

Sussurrando pelos pulmões,

O fôlego vivo vive dentro,

Suspirando minhas paixões.

O mar é minha alma,

Flutuando nos sonhos meus,

Identidade tranqüila e calma,

Onde as beiras combinam com os céus. Ω

Strength of Mind-- Originally written 2006

The shadow descends,
Furrowing your brow.
The dark thoughts enter,
Hammer at your resistance, your defenses,
Your mental armor, your happiness.

Love--Originally Written 2008

A burning; the burning.
None can compare, nothing competes.
Such feelings of fulfillment, of completeness,
Are unique to the warmth, the passion, the intensity.
The soul-binding cadence matches the rhythmic beat of the fervent heart.
Intensity: all-controlling, all-consuming; fiery, free.
Controlling, incomparable, unstoppable.
Driving, compelling, needing.
Subtle strength infinite,
Unforgettable.
The burning:
Unyielding,
Powerful,
Ardent.
Found.
Lost.
Ω

Power Struggle--Originally Written February 2010

If every cut on my body is a tear in my heart,

Then how scarred my love is.

Beaten, ragged, thrown away and besmirched.

Unwanted: used, then destroyed,

Unfixable lest a new heart be given.

My love is useless.

The Life of a Word

Conceived in the mind,
Beginning as naught but thought,
The embryo doth grow,
Embodied notion is caught.

Branded Fool

Who defines a fool?

Wee Little Man

Wee little man,
Wee little man,
You've such a giant heart.
Why any other man
Would give his right hand,
To be in the place of you.

The Dragonfly Queen--Part 1

     Her dame was thought to be the first drop of dew, and her sire to be last ray of Sunset's light. How those two ever met was an enigma in the first place, which made their daughter all the more mystifying. She certainly appeared to be of exotic parentage, delicate yet fiery, cool yet fervid, and completely uncontainable. Her face was that of the sun, a golden hue to her vibrant features, beautiful in their passionate expressions. Her hair was that of her sire's, shifting 'twixt shades of purples and pinks, oranges and reds, like the clouds at dusk. Her body was long and lithe, bespeaking the delicacy of her dame, and the power of her sire. Perhaps most breathtaking were the wings on her back. They flowed like water, but appeared as great fire, sharp and keen, crimson red with streaks of blue slicing through the dancing blaze. They seemed insubstantial, yet were as tangible as any dewdrop, and bright as any star. Her presence both soothed and invigorated, and she knew no enemy amongst the flora or fauna. With such parentage came brilliance of mind, and coolness of character, harnessed ardor of nature.  She was certainly the most glorious of all faerie; none could deny that.

Paradox of Life

The paradox of life:
Life consumes you,
Life takes away your life,
Like a mantis eating her mate.
Life runs through your veins,
Like a cobra's venom.

Day of Birth

What did I do?
Survived another year,
Breathed enough to avoid
Death by suffocation,
Ate enough to add
A healthy chub to my visage.
Does not everyone do the same,
Or at least attempt it?
Should we not all be lauded
For the mundane fact of living?

The Respected Man

There the he stands,
Respected for all that he represents;
But for all the regard,
He is not accepted,
But stands apart,
Isolated for an unseen cause,
Respect not equating to love
Or interaction.

Dance of Death

Sliding, slashing,
Vicious dance;
Turning, twirling,
Twisting trance.

Loony Teens

Oh the joys of adolescence,

Of prepubescence,

A time of awkward strain;

A time of stampeding,

Of pesky bleating,

A time of hormonal pain. Ω

The Power of Legend

     Legend is often born of truth, of tales long ago that have transformed, becoming less fact and more myth...until forgotten. This legend, though, was still alive, breathing, moving, hiding. It had been shut away, shunned, forgotten, thought dead and gone. No one knew it could not die; the dragon blood forbade it from passing.
     The dragon blood made it fearsome, a skilled fighter, the best hunter. Once it had a prey to pursue, a target, it was relentless, never stopping, never resting. Possessing twice the knowledge of man, and infinitely more wisdom, it was intelligent beyond compare. Its wolf blood made it patient, silent, lithe, nimble. Its senses were unrivaled, infinite in perception, its mind quick and nimble as its body, and keen as its senses.
     The bloods mixed! Teeth sharper than any blade, eyes a mixture of draconic and wolf, vertical pupil a dark slash against the sharp yellow, piercing and intense. More pronounced, dagger-like dragon claws grew from wolf paws, and two prominent fangs lay in full view. Scales stronger than any metal lined its body which was mottled black and grey like wolf fur. It was half the size of a horse, yet with muscles of enormous capability and strength, greater strength than even a dragon. Its tongue was like that of a serpent, long and slithering. The gift of flame had been bestowed upon the beast, a blue and white inferno that could melt even diamond. No wings adorned the creature, but run it could and run it did, faster than the eye could follow, ever enduring, never tiring.
     This was the beast of legend, the exiled lore: cursed for its mixed blood, feared for its powers. This beast had been shown cruelty, had been betrayed. Though not mad, not deranged, it wanted revenge. Already it had picked its prey. The hunt had begun!

Precedents of Death

     It was a most unusual orchestra. The four sat facing one another in a circle, each with their instruments, each with their prepared melodies. Serenity sat calmly, peaceful and at ease, though seemingly dwarfed by her siblings. She sat with an air of acceptance yet gentle repose. To her right sat Destruction. Large, imposing and intimidating, the very air around him seemed to shiver and shake. His enormous hands twitched with anticipation, powerful hands that thundered and shook, but often were so big as to lose their grasp on victory at the last moment. Usually it was Anguish or Fear that took advantage of this fact, snatching Destruction's final moments of satisfaction, taking his place in the melody. Anguish caused the air to shriek around her, her aura throbbing with miserable retching. She gasped and howled with sick pleasure, ragged breaths a metronome for the distorted music. Fear sat wide-eyed and frozen, scarcely able to mutter his despairing notes of song, regret and dread filling his eyes, his voice, his throat. Whimpers full of terror escaped his quivering jaw.
     And so, the conflict began.

Signs of Quick

People Watching

When out and about on an average day,
The season is not all important,
One can behold many an interesting sight,
More exciting than exotic birds in flight.

Find a well-crossed place to sit and stay
Where activity is most prominent,
And begin to observe the creatures there;
Be sure to not alert them with your stare.

Pain Compared

Three Roses

The pain comes and goes,
It ebbs, it flows;
Tidal forces tear apart,
Sundering a tender heart.

Pack

The Wife of Time

She waited for her Time to come,
She wished she could have Time back.
She searched for her lost Time,
But her Time never arrived.

The Adventures of Stern and Wake

Awash in the sea-world
Sailing jetsam of craft,
With distorted trail,
Silent guide to recent past.