June 05, 2004mirabai [bagheera][winter hollow]
i am colored with the color of dusk, oh rana, colored with the color of my Lord, drumming out the rhythm of the drums, I danced, dancing in the presence of the Saints, colored with the color of my Lord, they thought me mad for the Maddening one, raw for my dear, dark love..... colored with the color of my Lord
there is a fire in the darkness, a slinking, creeping fire amongst the freezing toes of the trees, it dances as it jumps through the shadows, flitting beneath the greywash trunks, pawpads sinking into the indellible darkness hovering above the moist ground, this fire dancing, this fire weaving, this fire creeping through the trees, the sun itself having cast a mottled flare to the earth's crust below, and now, how it races to find its way home
i am colored with the color of dusk, oh rana
the savanna sun has set upon him
orange blaze warming burnt mahogany eyes
ochre glows across sandskrit flesh
sienna darkening russet haircolored with the color of my Lord
the rana sent me a poison cup: i didn't look, i drank it all up, colored with the color of my Lord. the clever mountain lifter is the lord of me, life after life he's true, colors with the color of Lord
a raw power exceeds each careful step, muscles rolling beneath dappled pelt in a tight coil springing for sharp talons to sink, loving, into a drying trunk, bark chirped and littered to the ground in steady climb, and soon the length of him, the stretched, royal, arrogant length finds its way to settle among the branches
i saw the dark clouds burst, dark Lord, saw the clouds and tumbling down, in black and yellow streams they thicken, rain and rain two hours long
a ghost in the darkness, a shadow in the night, lays this flexing creature, orange and yellow splattered with blackened fingerprints of a Lord's lazy, meandering touch, blessed is he that bears these markings, blessed is he that shoulders the touch, this affection, this legacy which rides everlasting on thickened pelt, a chin dripped with cream settles on wide wrists connected to ivory claws
see, my eyes only see rain and water, watering the thirsty earth green, me, my love's in a distant land, and wet, i stubbornly stand at the door, for Hari is indelibly green, my Lord, and he has invited a standing, stubborn love
go to where my loved one lives, go to where Hari lives, and tell - if it is said so - i will color my sari red, i will wear the godly yellow garb, i will drape my hair with pearls, i will let my hair grow wild, my Lord is the clever mountain lifter, listen to the praises of the king
black lids close in the slowest of blinks, the errant sigh, senses filled with the scents the forest, of fallen leaves, of autumn's rot before winter's freeze, the chilled ozone filling the air before the coming of the storms, how they ride the blackened horizon, how they threaten to wash the earth in tears of ice, for the lands to blanket themselves in depthless white, broken only by the carcasses of gray, dormant trees
murali sounds on the banks of the junma, murali snatches away my mind, my senses cut loose from their moorings, dark waters, dark garments, my Lord
i listen close to the sounds of murali, and my body whithers away, lost thoughts, lost even the power to think, my lord, clever the mountain lifter, come quick, and snatch away my pain
thick neck lifts in concave arch the skull from resting paws, whiskers flare as lips pull back, canines exposed to the moon above in lingering yawn, rough pads push and knead against the creaking branch this languid stretch of balanced dream, of fire in the darkness
let us go to a realm beyond going, where death is afraid to go, where the high-flying birds alight and play, afloat in the full lake of love, there they gather, the good, the true, to strengthen inner regimen, to focus on the dark form of the Lord, and refine their minds like fire
heavy tail slaps against the trunk, swinging like hangman's noose, judgement wrought in its very tip
garbed in goodness, their ankle bells, they dance the dance of contentment, and deck themselves with the sixteen signs of beauty, and a golden crown, there where the love of the Dark One comes first, and everything else is last
once more the, creamy chin settles on flame's paws, as if the sun setting lids slide closed, blacktipped ears being to flatten, here is where dreams begint to take shape, to creep from the darkness, to find their way beneath the sleekly thick pelt, here is where the dreams become realities, where they filter and fondle all but the deepest of desires - here is where the beast sleeps
i am colored with the color of dusk, oh rana, i am colored with the color of my Lord
[mirabai, bagheera bastet roleplay character - lost on an unlabeled 3.5" disc since .11.02.02. - inspired by 13th century indian poem]
Posted by Wolf at June 05, 2004 10:49 PM
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