A Fairy’s Swansong (Part 3)


I.

Say hello to the swan again

By the current still being carried away

The burning tree did not just lose a leaf

It fell into the lake.

Now can you feel the waves?

Water is just a mirror

Image invisible amid its infinite wrinkles in the river

Absorbing the beam of a blazing light

Reflecting the darkness of the endless night.

But never the same way.

Water is just a mirror to hide what’s beneath the surface

The face of a dead animal that drowned in the murky waters

It had rather show you under a tree and its flames

Yesterday they heated your heart.

The smell of smoke that covers the one of a dead fox.

But today you just dived

Darkness again

Shining on an ocean of ashes

From which you might rise.

Only if you can.


II.

Can you not see that your story could have been written with an I

Through which I could see this world that is mine

For this story is not special

But it’s the one I can claim

And you and I are just the same.

A tale written on our skin

Toughened by the burns at night

Softened by the sweet juice on my fingers

I am the swan on the lake

And the fox finding its might.

And so much more.

I don’t want this rough shell anymore

I don’t want the silence

Nor the buzzing sound in my brain

I don’t want my eyes to see

The same shades over again

See the spreading curse, restlessly echoing the same story in my slumber.

I won’t jump off the roof

I will leave it and fly away.

I am breakable and can be defeated

I’m not as harsh and heartless as I think

Like gingerbread crumbling on my hand

Ice cracking on the lake

I can be vanquished in ways people don’t even think possible.

And a leak through the shell

Can make me feel what seemed unimaginable

But it scares me to know about these things

Of which I am capable.

I am.

Many marvelous and maleficent traits, magnified on a summer day, mesmerized by what might be my own mind.

Absolutely antagonistic and awful delusions, appearing at night after an artistic and appealing show of anxiety.

Dripping from the dreadful mind, a draught drifting myself out to the wild. Deep in the darkness, if I dare to find Dear Death, she won’t take me aside.


III.

And now you have seen the unseen colors

At some point you’ve seen them all

So what do you do when it’s all over?

The air will always feel cold as ice

The water will always be tasteless

And when it’s not, it will burn my tongue

And blur my speech.

Today I’m dressed in black

But not for the reason you think

Just because I feel good in it.

I untie the rope attaching my feet

I tether my soul to nothing.

But I keep waking up on this boat drifting

And I laugh so hard

Watching the world on fire

Shaking until I blow up.

I laugh really hard

Sometimes drinking death from a cup.

The swan has sung

The fox has drowned

The tree will not rise from the ashes anymore.

We left the green room

Woke up from the dream

Finished our glass or our bottle.

The wolf has caught its prey

And today I’m wearing its fur

Nothing more to say.



This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0 International License

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