Sitting in Michael's Lap
**Sorry about the length of this one -- but the form demanded it. Enjoy! ** Kess
Capricious moon cavorts in star-bright sky
And wisps of cloud like courtiers gather by
Their arms outstretched to catch her silvered light.
And yet, the tale that must be told this night
Does not unfurl in that celestial field:
Instead, a scene by moon's regard revealed
Is painted on the forest's shadowed form.
Within its still and mystic depths, a storm
Of magick broods, in this enchanted hour:
For they who weave the webs of ancient power
Shall reap this night the fruits of spite they hold
Each for the other; thus, the tale unfolds:
Before her feet, the deepest shade unfolds
In reverence at the brilliance of her form;
Her eyes the Daystar's golden beams do hold
To pierce the gloom of e'en the darkest storm.
She fears not Dark, for daylight is her power;
And gleams as midnight sun in this bleak hour –
Unnatural scowl by Luna's cast revealed
Who watches, rapt, from her exquisite sky –
Her frown, a blemish on the sunlit field
Of perfect face. A servant lingers by,
Who knows that Hell shall walk the gloom this night
Illumined by his Lady's mystic light.
From tactful shade, she summons him to light --
And whispers in his ear – a plan revealed
Whose curse shall write in History this night.
She stands, so cold and regal ‘neath the sky,
Defiant of the shadows gathered by;
A beacon in the dim and silent field.
She muses, for she knows that in this hour
The threads of silken future will unfold
And swathe or strangle her, by her own power.
Cascades of magick cloak her quiet form,
The breathless still before the raging storm
Of leering Fate the coming trial would hold.
In midnight throned waits he whose eyes doth hold
The velvet depths of this unyielding hour;
His is the voice that calls the snarling storm,
Its curtain o'er the heavens to unfold.
Soft shadows curl in love about his form
And in those sable veils he finds his power –
He looks through this dark glass to distant field
Where she whose airy voice commands the light
With hordes of glittered sycophants, waits by.
Though nothing in her careful stance revealed
But icy grace to mock enfolding sky,
He knows she writhes in torment on this night.
With eagerness, he grins, the Prince of Night;
To meet the Queen of Dawn on that dim field
With moon and stars as witness from their sky!
There, sanctified by their effusive light
Would see with grim finality revealed
Eternally, one Victor, measured by
The other's sure demise. His darkling power
Danced anxious in his eyes – he vowed to hold
No mercy in his heart for that fair form
Whose noble pride would crumble in this hour
As surely as he would his wrath unfold
Upon her frailty in the coming storm.
On conquest bent, he rides the breath of storm,
Obedient to his unflinching power;
And in his wake, his hordes, en masse, unfold
To do his bidding. Ardent smile that holds
No mirth does hang upon his face this hour;
A mocking slice of white on this dark form
That shames the midnight's gloom. The trees race by
Beneath the flight of sovereign Liege of Night,
In violent winds, their bowing trunks revealed
By silent stars that frame the fateful field
Where waits the one whose soul is molten Light.
She watches his approach through raging sky.
Unblinking eyes, so like the dawning sky,
Meet his in fearless calm, despite the storm.
So strange, her glow in this benighted hour –
And yet, the forest crackles with her power
Oppressive gloom no mastery does hold
O'er her bright heart. He feels a thought unfold
That jointly warms and chills him – waiting sky
Is suddenly too close – it lingers by,
Encroaching on his will like hateful Light.
With tightened jaw, he calls the soothing night
To wash his mind, but something in the field
Yet grieves him, though its name is not revealed.
His silent frame in shadowed grace revealed
To her uneasy gaze; a patch of sky
That stains with empty black the starry field.
Unholy minions follow closely by,
To heed the call of he who rules the Night;
She breathes a prayer for her brigade of Light
In fervent hope that Fortune will unfold
Its gentle wings to guard her stately form.
Might this unhappy conflict prove to hold
A silver lining, draped on heaves of storm?
She whispered pleas to every ancient Power
That Victory might smile on her this hour.
The wait is past – in this defining hour
Shall Time's amorphous tapestry unfold
To tell whose aspect wields the greater power.
Their magicks swarm; two Wills are given form
As clouds and lightning, self-contesting storm.
And as it rages, neither seems to hold
A marked advantage – by explosive light
The fortitude of dauntless dark revealed –
And searing Day unmoved by shrouding Night
Thus brought to earth, the fury of the sky
Roils on, displaced, its wrath empowered by
Embittered foes that flank embattled field.
Opposing passions dancing on the field,
The shadows melting in unnatural light
Which then, in turn is promptly swallowed by
The eager maw of Darkness. There revealed,
In violent gale that mocks the peaceful sky,
Ironic truth – the harvest of this night
Will not be triumph – neither foe shall hold
The throne unchallenged. This unhappy hour
Whose passing flailed the Earth with savage storm
Saw nothing save a fruitless duel unfold.
The tempest fades; the two opponents form
Long shadows in the ebb of burning power.
Irresolute, they stand – conflicting power
Still lingers at the ready in their hold.
But – strange illusion! One majestic form
Steps forth to meet her foe! Portentous hour,
What fate shall this unlikely act unfold?
And then, like shadow of approaching storm,
He moves alike, a breath of walking night,
Toward the center of the smoldered field.
Their legions massed, as silent as the sky,
Archaic nemeses of Dark and Light,
Look on in disbelief – moonlight revealed
Prophetic scene that Time is measured by.
Soft footfalls – earth and heaven standing by
To watch the breathless epic of this night;
Two regal strides, and history revealed
Where ancient foes sojourn in nighted field
Suffused with Luna's glow and starry light.
A frozen moment ‘neath expectant sky
So tranquil in the aftermath of storm –
Two gazes meet – and in them both a power –
Unblinking, proud. There, eyes alight unfold
A shocking twist: how dost this vision hold
Such strong allure for them this fateful hour?
A revelation slowly taking form ...
Unfold a dream of such pervasive power
Another storm is birthing in this hour;
Strange demon taking form this wondrous night.
In silvered light, a paradox revealed,
Whose depth shall not be matched by endless sky:
When love takes hold in wake of hatred's field.
You cannot choose the way of your death, but the path you choose will determine its own end.
[This message has been edited by Skyfyre (edited 01-05-2000).]