darkness – three good words

from the east
a wind, alive, singing
sweeps through the forests,
unknown, unheaded
leaves shivering, golden-green
branches swaying in a quiet roar
a sky-filled sea.

two wanderers
walking in shadows, deep
the moon above
voluptuous, full, and bright;
in silence, side by side
their pace is steady
within the blues and greys
of ghostly light
sticks on stone, soil
where the climb is far too steep.

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a cottage, large
stands silent, bright
at the edge of wooded darkness
where the wanderers stop
the taller one knocks.

the door slides open,
an old man speaks
forehead glistening in the firelight.
a question, an answer
a quiet exchange,
the door opens wider
warmth and scents and voices
and they enter with sighs, relieved.

like others eating, drinking,
some looking, speaking
a table is given
with food, steaming
rice and eel, and stews,
vegetables, soup
and cool, fresh beer.

eating in silence to reach their fill
they speak no word
nor raise a glass, one to the other
yet in a flare of fire
black and silver, hidden
flash bright
revealing hilt and scabbard –
all of which the old man sees.

the platters empty
the cups refilled,
the taller pays, nodding
when asked if they have eaten their fill.

back at the fire
the coinage, bright
clearly curved, recognised
the old man knows, delighted
but to be sure,
he bites each one.
after all are bitten
there is no doubt
the winds have risen,
the tides have changed
the time has come.

in the room, received
mats fresh like grass
mattresses unrolled, candle lamps
a small coal stove
for the old man knows
they who have come must never be cold.

stealth tempered with time
the old man hides
parts a crevice, and sees in light
the two who came
with promises engraved
in hilt and scabbard
black and silver, clear and bright.

and the old man slips
swiftly, swiftly to his wife
whispers fiercely what he knows
the winds have risen,
the tides have changed
the black and silver, flashing white.

it is now, it is now
he dances, almost
joyous to live so long
to see and know
what had long been spoken
now it was just to wait
for the first gong.

and the wife smiles
nodding, disbelieving
convinced of folly
yet indulges with patience:
till the first gong promised
the old man must curtail his praise

and so he does
and the morning dawns
where hooded and silent
the wanderers depart,
but the old man stands
at the edge of darkness,
smiling, certain
that the winds have risen
that the time has come
against all odds
for he had seen what lay
in black and silver, promised, engraved
clear in the firelight.

spring 4 There once was a land, a far away place, where a small people lived in small houses. They had learned to live in silence, for silence was their legacy from the Darkness that had retreated from their land. They had lived through the dark and darkest days and had survived, and now were toiling away in silence, accepting their fate. They were blessed however, with fertile land, and underneath this land, they found many precious artifacts buried, artifacts that were easily shattered and broken if not handled with care. The small people learnt day by day to dig up these artifacts carefully with small shovels and small wheelbarrows, making sure to only use the small tracks they knew, for they did not know where other artifacts may lay, and there were places where the Darkness still lingered.

So they learnt, carefully, and did their best to tend to and put together the artifacts with care. Some stayed together, others fell apart repeatedly, and yet others were no more than ground dust, and those the small people buried in their small graves. However, with every passing day, more and more artifacts were put together, and both young and old knew that one day these artifacts would lead to wealth and prosperity. It would be a day far away, but that day would come, and so they toiled away.

Then, one day, a runner came, and proclaimed that there was a loud cry among the other kingdoms and realms. It was found that the Lord of the Dark had lost his most precious gem, and it was said that gem was needed to defeat his armies. The small people listened and trembled for they knew that hard merciless stone, and knew the Lord of the Dark had many like it. He cast away one and put on another, and many were scattered beyond the small pathways they would not leave. Yet the cry was loud among the other kingdoms and realms, and scouts and men were sent out to find this gem, for the cry was great to find this lost thing, and the small people could do nothing to sooth the loud cry to silence.

And so the day came, and the machines rolled down the small people’s tracks, destroying the pathways and the artifacts underneath. Trees were hewn and soil dug up, dynamite was stuck into holes, blowing up the land wide. And the small people stood aside and watched in horror and dismay as the precious artifacts were flung into the air and shattered. And many cried, for it was to them as if the Darkness had returned again. And there were some among them who lost all hope and understood why the Lord of the Dark said there was no hope, only the Darkness beyond. And they ran and fled into the Darkness and were never seen again, except in nightmares that lurked in the night.