The magnificent sound stretched like a rocky "V" into the horizon,
cutting and wandering away from the silent port where the tall man stood.
Further into nowhere,
where greens melted into bonds of beryl and sorrel,
a calmness floated eerily across a mirrored surface,
and if he tilted his head just right,
the softness of the morning
could be heard reverberating through pines and sky,
and into the silent sentinel next to him.
"Are you ready?" the blind priest demanded,
turning his head in the man's direction,
and motioning towards a small skiff that bobbed little in the stilled water.
The priest's cassock twitched and twirled as he turned,
and he felt his way towards the water,
gnarled staff finding its own way to the broken pier.
The tall man pinned his eyes downwards to the left,
and responded while gazing at the receding form. "Yes."
Both forms walked towards the light craft,
and as the priest stepped into the boat,
he turned around and held up his hand towards the tall man, baggy sleeve opened, swallowing darkness,
and stated clearly: "Payment is due to enter the Kingdom of Small Deaths."
"Of course," the rangy man replied, and pulled out a stem of purple foxglove.
Handing it to the man, he couldn't help noticing the old priest squint his eyes, as he murmured, "you bring death to these waters. Pray it is enough."
"I cannot pray until I've seen her," the tall man responded,
stepping into the boat behind the priest, and untying the mooring rope.
"Years have passed since anyone visited the statue's clearing,"
the old man intoned.
"And years have passed since anyone returned," the lanky man quipped.
"I know the stories."
"The stories do not lie," said the priest,
as he pushed the skiff into ripple-less waters.
The two men moved out past the shore, passing thistles and lady's slipper,
bottlebrush and amaryllis, pines and black coral tree.
They stood silently, the boat moving on its own deeper into the sound.
"She has been waiting for you in the light for eight dark years, you know,"
the priest stated, behind the tall man,
as the boat passed from open water to winding river.
Gradually, the thoughtful river turned to the right,
and where their faces were once bathed in cold sunlight,
now narrow shadows whispered to their sides,
and the boat crept quickly forward towards the end.
Inside the man's eyes, lions battled with slippery geckos,
and the rhubarb shadows on the banks beside the boat lay waiting.
The dusk waned into evening,
and the priest repeated, "are you ready?"
The tall man stirred back to life,
and stepped out of the skiff.
After all, in stillness lay death in this Kingdom by the sound.
He walked a few paces into the glade by the shore,
and did not look back.
If he had, he would have seen the boat quickly receding,
and disappearing around the vine-strangled corner back towards the sound.
After a few more steps, he turned to the left,
and continued up a steep path surrounded by the throaty hum of cicadas.
He never wavered,
and strode upwards deeper into the dense forest,
remembering her scent,
and strawberry eyes like a drug to his words.
A few minutes passed,
scattering like the intricate pieces of a broken watch,
and he arrived in the glade of the statue's clearing.
Light bathed colours into mosaics of dance,
and the reedy man took a soft intake of breath.
She melted out of a sage tree,
and stood behind him,
watching and waiting as he walked into the clearing.
Following him noiselessly steps behind,
she smiled tenderly as he reached the pool and sank to his knees.
The waters of dark aqua stared back at him,
and reflected nothing but his face,
though her hands and face nearly touched his ears.
"Come away my soul," he whispered, bowing deeply,
hallowed ripples rushing out from where his lips touched the water's surface.
Silence and shadows.
The tall man quietly took off his clothes,
piece by piece,
and sunk into the statue's clearing,
falling deeply into the moody waters.
His feet slipped off the muddy bank,
and dipped below where eyes can see.
Crinkling in smile and mirth,
she laughed,
tilting her head backwards,
and filled the glen with the sound of shattered glass.
"I will let this one pass, I believe," she answered,
stepping into her waters of eternal change.
The statue's clearing hushed, and
eyeless and lidless, the trees listened.
Their queen in the kingdom had never broken the surface.
"Oh yes, this one shall pass," she voiced,
as her hair like cirrus clouds floating lazily on the water,
and her eyes now the colour of champagne,
sank below into the pool to meet the rangy man.
cutting and wandering away from the silent port where the tall man stood.
Further into nowhere,
where greens melted into bonds of beryl and sorrel,
a calmness floated eerily across a mirrored surface,
and if he tilted his head just right,
the softness of the morning
could be heard reverberating through pines and sky,
and into the silent sentinel next to him.
"Are you ready?" the blind priest demanded,
turning his head in the man's direction,
and motioning towards a small skiff that bobbed little in the stilled water.
The priest's cassock twitched and twirled as he turned,
and he felt his way towards the water,
gnarled staff finding its own way to the broken pier.
The tall man pinned his eyes downwards to the left,
and responded while gazing at the receding form. "Yes."
Both forms walked towards the light craft,
and as the priest stepped into the boat,
he turned around and held up his hand towards the tall man, baggy sleeve opened, swallowing darkness,
and stated clearly: "Payment is due to enter the Kingdom of Small Deaths."
"Of course," the rangy man replied, and pulled out a stem of purple foxglove.
Handing it to the man, he couldn't help noticing the old priest squint his eyes, as he murmured, "you bring death to these waters. Pray it is enough."
"I cannot pray until I've seen her," the tall man responded,
stepping into the boat behind the priest, and untying the mooring rope.
"Years have passed since anyone visited the statue's clearing,"
the old man intoned.
"And years have passed since anyone returned," the lanky man quipped.
"I know the stories."
"The stories do not lie," said the priest,
as he pushed the skiff into ripple-less waters.
The two men moved out past the shore, passing thistles and lady's slipper,
bottlebrush and amaryllis, pines and black coral tree.
They stood silently, the boat moving on its own deeper into the sound.
"She has been waiting for you in the light for eight dark years, you know,"
the priest stated, behind the tall man,
as the boat passed from open water to winding river.
Gradually, the thoughtful river turned to the right,
and where their faces were once bathed in cold sunlight,
now narrow shadows whispered to their sides,
and the boat crept quickly forward towards the end.
Inside the man's eyes, lions battled with slippery geckos,
and the rhubarb shadows on the banks beside the boat lay waiting.
The dusk waned into evening,
and the priest repeated, "are you ready?"
The tall man stirred back to life,
and stepped out of the skiff.
After all, in stillness lay death in this Kingdom by the sound.
He walked a few paces into the glade by the shore,
and did not look back.
If he had, he would have seen the boat quickly receding,
and disappearing around the vine-strangled corner back towards the sound.
After a few more steps, he turned to the left,
and continued up a steep path surrounded by the throaty hum of cicadas.
He never wavered,
and strode upwards deeper into the dense forest,
remembering her scent,
and strawberry eyes like a drug to his words.
A few minutes passed,
scattering like the intricate pieces of a broken watch,
and he arrived in the glade of the statue's clearing.
Light bathed colours into mosaics of dance,
and the reedy man took a soft intake of breath.
She melted out of a sage tree,
and stood behind him,
watching and waiting as he walked into the clearing.
Following him noiselessly steps behind,
she smiled tenderly as he reached the pool and sank to his knees.
The waters of dark aqua stared back at him,
and reflected nothing but his face,
though her hands and face nearly touched his ears.
"Come away my soul," he whispered, bowing deeply,
hallowed ripples rushing out from where his lips touched the water's surface.
Silence and shadows.
The tall man quietly took off his clothes,
piece by piece,
and sunk into the statue's clearing,
falling deeply into the moody waters.
His feet slipped off the muddy bank,
and dipped below where eyes can see.
Crinkling in smile and mirth,
she laughed,
tilting her head backwards,
and filled the glen with the sound of shattered glass.
"I will let this one pass, I believe," she answered,
stepping into her waters of eternal change.
The statue's clearing hushed, and
eyeless and lidless, the trees listened.
Their queen in the kingdom had never broken the surface.
"Oh yes, this one shall pass," she voiced,
as her hair like cirrus clouds floating lazily on the water,
and her eyes now the colour of champagne,
sank below into the pool to meet the rangy man.
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