The wind rose up from the
ocean floor where they lived in the body of a marble stone
Having been born in the
ivory tower of Lassiter’s rings.
Some say they knew the wind
by name and the very day the ocean flowed onto the land.
There were eight of them –
never had been more.
Their years were numbered in
fours to run consecutive with the sun’s rotation in winter.
Even though winter didn’t
apply to them – no seasons did.
Their lives were hid.
This is who they were –
Tram – the older of the few;
Ram – the son of Tram;
MayAnn – the mother of Ram.
No names were given the
remaining five.
They came in the succession
as it applies.
Under the dome of brilliance
shone white and blue light
Small white winged mites
fluttered about, never to alight, only to circle left to right.
The eight entities lived and
not died.
For many years they had come to reside inside the
stone
Subsisting on the subtle shadows
which surrounded the rings and cone.
What is the purpose you may
ask –
It’s to breathe the light
and continue in the way of the rings’ delight.
They made their bed in onyx
and emerald blue
Rising when the cask shed a
web of seeping dew.
I don’t know who gave order
to the enclave.
It’s as if they were washed
into the sea
Just to be.
As I was looking through the
watering hole
I saw, low and behold!
I saw this marvelous sight
untold.
Who could say why and how
the orbit chose to make its turn
But here I sit to mark a
passage in which this tale is spurned.
This is what I was able to
hear –
Come little children, let us
gather around,
I want to tell what I have found,
said Tram to the nest,
I saw a vision as if a test.
You see this point of light
at the west -
It’s different you see from
all the rest.
How so? Asked a little one
sitting to the side,
I cannot see where there is
a speck of difference
where you say.
Look closely, see, it moves
about, a gleam of stream shining in and out.
What does it mean?
Asked the mother supreme.
I’m not sure my dear just
yet.
I’m searching for the answer
too,
But we’ll wait and see if it
is revealed to me, said he.
Time passed and was eclipsed
by a blimp where the ocean floor was raised from its core.
And the light was shifted
and darkness fell onto their shell.
No one could see, neither
could me.
So I took my leave to change
my course of the day,
But oh yes, I came back
yesterday,
Looked into the waters of
the deep and tempestuous sea
Hoping to cast a view of
anything that might be new.
Suddenly,
Lightning struck, hail fell and
the waves swell.
I turned quickly to run aground
but found I could not move
Or turn around.
So I sat as still as I could,
to not topple my boat, since I could not swim or float.
Minutes walked slowly by
The ticks of the clock
stilled as if stopped.
I waited, anticipated.
I watched, expected the
unexpected.
I looked about.
I sought a way out.
The day laid long and hot –
the sun drenched the sea in glass and burning stones.
I grew weary and worn, but
for no unexplained reason I lingered on.
I was to hunker in the bunker
of the furling storm.
It must be, I thought,
because of the king of the rings of which the marble stone was born.
I could not say.
It was a strange and
puzzling day.
Soon, as if by night, the
skies blew clear.
The sun was down to a
minimum hue and I was able to wade further into
The valley of shadows
covering over the place
I was telling you.
What did I further see? you
may ask me.
Well, it was much darker now
than before for sure.
Lights sparkled of what seem
like lead arrayed above the head of the son of Tram,
And the little ones remained
transfixed…
Until suddenly,
Again.
The marble core grew to a greater
tremendous size,
Like a balloon being
expanded by air and weight.
All the while it floated off
as if to escape to deeper waters still --
Turning and spinning into
the depths by will.
To disappear under the
umbrella of another sphere.
That’s the end of the story.
…It was just my
imagination….
…running away with me…..
It was just my
‘magina..a…tion…
….runnin…a..wayyy…with me…
