the realized vision (the latest chapter in my novella-poem in progress, 'Sludge White and the Seven Curmudgeons")

bidden by his vision back to the grotto

Sappy all atremble trampled Rashful's heels,

his burden giving off reverberations

the way bells siphon shock with resounding peels.

though able to summon but scant attention

Sylvana collected the tide's blurted gist,

enough to rekindle the seams of a dream

with a sun-drenched missive spilling in its midst.

but chilling her veins and snatching her focus

a sudden barrage uprooted the bower,

ensnaring the bier and flower-strewn mound

in a crashing, splintering, guttering shower.

with swift and heedless, selfless abandon

Sylvana lost herself in scrawling abrasions.

for naught could surpass the soul-rending rift

of clearing that path of clinging lacerations.

  

and finding the princess reposed and unscathed

the levee ruptured that had bridled her fears

birthing a free-falling river of diamonds,

conducting redemption in glimmering tears.

making its way to the wounds of the willow,

ceaselessly seeking its recollected place

it grazed a forehead and trickled down a cheek

tracing the contours of unrequited grace.

and the bloom reawakened in stages,

in the steady advance of congenital blush;

gushing the generous, luminous perspectives

of a singular, corporeal brush.

by the time Sylvana had seen the eyes open

they were clasping hers in an ardent gaze.

for hitching one's wagon to a beacon

eclipses other methods for lighting the days.

she lifted Sludge White from her bed of roses

while Nate backed into the trail of a boulder.

he swayed through the lesions, recoiling in shock.

the sparrow rode a rod propped on his shoulder.

and from there the tourmaline was winking

in its fluted setting of riddled, knotted pine.

"what's happening here?" Nate managed to inquire.

then he stumbled on a sly, slinking vine.

"we've been set upon" Rashful tersely explained,

dazedly gaping at the lover's embrace.

Sappy only nodded, bunching up his hood

dabbing at tears on his reverential face.
***** * ***** * ***** * ***** * *****

- Evan Hawthorn, the 2^nd of October, 2016