Where The Wild Things Are.

i). I am the Shadowy Childe of the Mountains near the Moon,

Where frigid vapours billow in the black-blue night’s sky;

Where razor-rock slopes line the precipices

of a Death that comes too soon,

But imagination, ever-slumbering, like a flurry of little bats flies.

ii). Deep chasms skulk down with dreaming seas;

Restlessly breathing and beating over deep, resplendent shores,

While eddies of the funnelled metastasised ocean-swirls

Carve out cliffs, and caves, and roiling, floating, rocky cores.

iii). Like dead Coral-drifts; all skeletal, calcified rock-drifts

float out, disgorged in a watery, salty grave;

But even Algae bloom here in the silent crevices –

And the Dying Monoliths some essence of life can save.

iv). And above, the Mountain Peaks upon the high-cliff

are beset with Dancers in the dark;

And as the Moon and Stars wheel high overhead,

Watery eyes create seemingly earth-bound pools of bright, wheeling sparks.

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v). Are they little hidden Angels or are they rebellious Devils?

Does our gaze, some secret, midnight Sabbath-Rite mar?

One thing seems plain, within the midst of the revels:-

This is truly, a place where the wild things are!

vi). Pan, the Bacchanalian Lord of the Darkling Dancers,

Where the Wicca meets the Wode;

And natural and cloven feet fly and whirl and melee in the air;

As if Gravity’s Pull simply wasn’t enough of a load!

vii). Perhaps, this is just the dance of the Nocturnal hours,

With flurries of aerial ice and snow at play;

When vaporous sky-drifts of cloud unfurl from the Celestial Audience,

The bright dance beneath is clearly arrayed.

viii). The dancing of the forms makes them seem like they have

no morphic shape; which to any one of them keeps its own norm;

As dark atmosphere coalesces and ionises the coruscating sky;

Charged with lightning – showing endlessly shifting, ethereal forms.

ix). Even if blackling vampyres and baying, running, werewolves were

to crash through here, our paths would never spar;

I am the Eternal Child and Watcher in the sombre, freezing gloom

of a place where the wild things are.

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