Sunday, 17 November 2013

The Blade That Flies

(draft from Storyboard 13 of The Cavern) 

The rain drips down the back of my neck
It drops in little pools all around us
Its cheerful music 
a mirage for the realities within 
I ignore the death-cold vacuum in your eyes
Put my hand through the liquid glass screen 
onto the fading warmth of your chest
Soon that too will leave me 
and you will really be gone
Your body a brief memory to the world
Your voice an everlasting echo in my head
While the earth embraces you in its belly
What do the space-time journalists gain 
by flashing us your blood splatter
A broken body sprawled
 across galactic gateways
You were so much more 
than evidence in a black bag
I twist and turn and shift
 back into guard-space
before the plasma data smugglers 
can find my location
My body crashes to the ground 
I've been shot 
the dying world blinks out
The rainwaters ripple 
like the waves of the sea
I realize I am lying there 
alone in the levee
with the Angel of Death 
looming over me
Protecting me 
from the ancient evil that walks
Preying devilishly 
The black roads 
between heaven and hell
Breaching all rules 
of the space-time continuum
And the most holy Book of Revelations
O celestial ground runner my hero 
He helps me to hide 
behind his dusky silken cloak
I await your shiny angel wings at the close
(and even your merciful Blade that flies 
through air, skin and oak)

-Anne V

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