Snow and Leaves

Originally Posted: 10/24/08

Failing to fetch me at first keep encouraged,
Missing me one place search another,
I stop somewhere waiting for you.

If I am to thrive, Apollo must kneel before me. The Pantheons of Ages long gone must bow to the might of my sword, to the wisdom in my eyes, and the unbridled power that shudders against the core of me. Rage subsiding, I have been tempered by the forge, been enlightened by the descent, and reborn with the daylight. The soul breathes anew, a deep and hearty breath. A blessing bestowed, I have been placed on my path and sent toward the righteous future. The mountains lay closer now, and beyond them...who knows?

The road begins to meander again, first along a river's muddy banks and then through forests deep and pure. Again through deserts that span infintely, to the tundra where tauntauns roam in knee-high snow. I traverse hills and plains, always walking. I pass through cities unseen until I stood in their midst. The bustle around me never falters, never quiets. The people continue on and I walk through them. A few seem to see me, but none so much as smile. That, I think, I can live with. Because they have not seen true beauty, true power, true love. No fairytales, no films or television. Only I.

For a time, the scenery is indefinable. As if the world herself had been smeared around me, the various climes melding into one until the chaos of it all begins to unfold, the overlapping natures collapsing outward and inward, upon themselves. Then, for a time longer, all is silence. But, as they always do, the birds return and the sky clears. The river is back, rushing now in heady torrents, tearing itself with a lascivious roar through the narrow channel of its banks. A phallic symbol, if ever one existed. Lapping hungrily at the shore, stretching the soft, fertile land that holds it, churning as two bodies pressed together will churn. I can smell the sweat that pools between them, the ravenous lips and questing fingers. I can taste their heat, their passion. I hear, above the roaring water, a soft, urgent cry. I am incensed, but I continue on. There will be passion on this trail if passion awaits me.

I have learned, have grown, and still the distance seems greater. The mountains grow in my vision. Does She await me there? Does anything await me? Has my Salvation eluded me, or do my thoughts simply turn inward to plague the mind with prattling nonsense? Questions serve no purpose here. Not now, not yet. Push them aside. The journey is what matters, whatever lies at the end will have to wait. Still, I can almost smell the dew in her hair.

Laughter in the woods arouses my senses, calls me onward. Time is carrying on, and I had best be with it. There are many miles yet to cover, many trials yet to overcome. There will be no failure. With long, steady strides, the road vanishes more and more behind me and the mountains and the mysteries beyond them, grow ever closer to me. Closer until I feel that splayed fingers, stretching toward the horizon, will surely touch their jagged peaks. But to no avail. The woods are lovely, dark and deep. But I have promises to keep. And miles to go before I sleep.

And miles to go before I sleep,
-Nemesis