Travelers Welcome

Travelers Welcome

Sunday, November 20, 2011

Siren Song of Swan Lake

by Ailill

Inside the magical underwater kingdom
of the lake, night world dimensions
of Hades, where the clouds roll backwards,
dreaming up, trees branch downwards,
reality ripples inward, and everything appears
as if seen through a rearview mirror,

there lives a lonely old crone,
howling out of the pit of despair.

From the surface we see her bone
exposed skin, moss covered hair,
rotten sulfur egg stink, smoked ghosts,
and the musk of crusty old fish guts.

But is it only the shadow
of our own reflections,
seen through the doors
of misperception?

Does the magic of her mystery
contain an elusive beauty?

Shy of this world,
could she really be
a mind-blowing
mermaid girl?

At first I dreamed of visiting
her lair through the versing
of a poem,

but growing scared,
I thought better of this affair,

because if you draw near,
she likes to nibble at your ear,
whisper sweet nothings
no one else can hear,
hold you in her embrace,
never letting go.

Yet, seeking out her secret gold,
didn’t heroes of old dare to defy
her tests?

Taking the plunge into
the deathly chill
of the waters still,
Perseus fell to the depths
of her forbidden well.

Finding her so seductive
he thought she was his wife,
for her he was willing
to sacrifice his own life.

Allured by the forces of the unknown,
maybe king Polydectes enjoyed
being turned into stone.
After all, how else could he stay
within her sight?

Dante thought he had found a key
to the portal of heaven.

Beowulf,
northern bard and knight,
Izanagi,
of Japanese legend,
Sindbad,
sailor of a 1001 nights,

only through the yarn of myths
can I glean clues to her gifts.

But dear sleeper, this queen
of Thanatos finds us at night,
in the coma induced dreams
of Morpheus, her images entice.

On the count of three
the two worlds interweave,
dressed in her evening best
ready for the banquet,
thoughts turn cold,
dream windows
take hold.

Fear turns into acceptance
In silences peaceful.

Her presence
A reminder

In
Out
In

Drumbeat rhythms

Sooner or later,
We will all find her.

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