\\-QUETZALCOATL-//

Pagan drums in the night~
Silver, slithering flute-trills seep, serpentine as lightning threads.
Through a lake of blue mythic glass, aflame with the bright shadows of fish,
I watch~
The smell of age-old silence, the splash of sacred blood spilled,
Resounding.
And suddenly I remember,
The first flight of the Quetzal bird,
Lush jade wings, flourishing like the rise of an emerald dawn,
And the twins that crept the shadows,
Crumbling paper bones, imbued with the sudden spark of life.
Mother's bane~
Quetzalcoatl towers tall,
Jewels of the underworld clinging to his tail,
Fossil raindrops, from the buried reaches of Hell.
Shaking the primeval tempest from its cloud-blanketed slumber,
Feathered hands upholding a swollen, blue-black sky:
A bruised and terrible heaven, ethereal playground where the elements make war,
And love.
He is the wind ruffling the ancient waters,
The ice-dust star that haunts the morning sky,
Keeper of the White Lands, home of the sun.
He stands before me now,
Bird-beak crimson, snake-tail twisted,
Beneath a dome of cerulean stars,
Weeping fleshless tears,
Into the glorious velvet of dusk,
The molten eyes of Quetzalcoatl,
Are at last~
Closed.