Beast Mighty Maw (poetry)
Title: Beast's Mighty Maw
Author: player of Charna Ja'Varrel'Kav
I traveled down a canal on a boat made of roots from the bone of its maw.
And as I watched, pain coursed through me as though I was slammed by its mighty paw.
Now I sit in purple clouds filled with endless blue skies,
And wonder if I'll make it to the land where the hero dies.
I was not always this way, filled with this pain that makes me burn.
Once I was cradled in the embrace of the one for which I yearn.
Wrapped in cinnamon orbs of love’s greatest desire,
I was bathed in passion that surpassed the Daemon’s fire,
And brought before the mighty beast of malcontent,
Only to have him quell, shaken now broken and bent.
One look unto us, bathed in worship, and his spirit fled from him,
Knowing that he held nothing over the solidity of our whim.
For whim it was not, but the unblemished purity of hearts true treasure.
There was nothing, when hand in hand; the beast could do to saturate our pleasure.
And that in its self was the gift, the pure gem, which would tear us sunder,
Distance was his weapon, and it would destroy us! Be our blunder!
My heart’s rhythm beats slower and slower, its love left without the flower.
Each day that passes I pray will not make my One, my Only, slowly turn sour.
And yet, still I quell and shake, the fever does rake and take.
Will you allow the beast to destroy what our hearts would make?
Say nay, My Lover, that I might rise again and blossom in your grace.
Say yeah, that I will know the look of glory and love within your face!
If I can endure the great volcanic tides of hatred’s burning, churning waters,
If I can know that you are waiting on the distance shore of the beast’s great daughters,
Then he has not won, this beast of man’s token affection and deprived selection.
Then he has not seen the purity of what our hearts desire and its warm perfection.
I will rest low within the root that once lay within the beast’s mighty maw,
I will push off the final press of its heavily clawed and muscular paw.
If only to know that you wait too and do not let these things that are his tools.
Taint you, twist you and take what was once ours and turn it into his rules.
Jealousy, hate, fear and loathing are what he craves you to desire,
Because in their embrace, in their power, he will kill our coveted fire!
Under purple skies I wait as Ebon’s gates rise before me, but step to it I will not.
I will not rise to enter her gate! Even shattered and torn by the beast I still will plot.
By your side is where the hero dies, old and gray she will fall into her final slumber.
I am she who yearns for that day, when my soft sleep is no longer a simple number.
Plot ye too! For by this beast our love will not be governed nor ruled.
And in the final cycle it is our love that will have the beast fooled.
He will fall as we rise into the pure bliss of heart’s final embrace,
And like the Phoenix we will rise in the fires of love’s truest grace.
Remember these words, my lover and my friend. Remember their sum.
For as my pen falls from cramped fingers long ago left to grow numb,
That these are my words only for you, my final truest gift.
Hold close to your heart while packed in your cavernous rift.
My lips parted at your ear, when last you were by my side,
And their truth I imparted my soul, with nothing left to hide.
One saying, one adage, which cannot be burned by the beast’s hatred filled fuel!
The one phrase, my dearest, blessed beloved in my heart and soul I burn for you.
Yearn for the day when lips part and from them these words once more flew.
Simply enough, and with passion so great it burns, I can say-
“I love you.”