The Undeem’s Quest
She cradled the babe taken, in shadowed
arms; she of Undeem, this babe mortal,
born of a human woman, out in snow–
unforgivable–and her act of small
courage to swipe the child from uncaring
hands? Equally unforgivable. So
hide the child she must from the uncaring
of her people; first clean and feed, then Oh!
What’s to be done? Somewhere warm, safe, hidden–
but where? Where can she hide this little gift
whose snuggling into a hole grief’s ridden
in her heart; a hole punched by death’s dark rift
which spawns a chasm even the Undeem
can’t cross where her child waits to be redeemed?
~ ~ ~
Her heart still cries for her lost child, dead these
many years ’till her arms held this babe near.
On the table a tarot deck lies, teases
her with its promise of futures made clear.
She flips the top card o’er, the High Priestess
regards her with serenity in her eyes.
She sits at the crossroads of consciousness,
the moon’s daughter, this high priestess, who spies
hidden truths, serves as imagination’s
guardian, intuition’s friend and all
that the Undeem lack in their perception.
She cradles the babe; her shoulders drop, all
hope of keeping him caves in as time brings
more chances of discovery’s shrill ring.
~ ~ ~
His contented smile bespells her as no
other ever has; for him she defies
custom to the core, swaddles the baby so
no one will know, wrapping him in the guise
of her people–spun shadow riven from
night’s falling veil where starless truth belies
day’s blushing descent and moon’s crescent come
to add its smile to the blue, dusky sky.
Snug, warm and fed, the babe, a crescent forms,
pressing close to her beating heart that tries
to rip her from the Undeems’ shapeless dark to form
a woman with no flesh, just shadowed, wise;
a woman known long ago as Undreal.
Her essence he pulls making her ‘gain real.
~ ~ ~
Discordant screams send her flying as dread
stalks the Ever night lands of the Undeem’s
abode–a shadow plane where night rests. Wed
to its n’er changing cycle, night’s bed seems
to lie far from mortal eyes ’till its rise,
when sun’s brick red setting reveals the cracks
that man hammered in balance’s despised
hold on nature’s and magic’s leashes. Hack
at it with sword and axe in the west, fell
enchanted trees and break magic’s dominion
so men might rise but forget they do, spells
don’t fall to metal or poor opinion.
What magic made, only magic can break.
The fools made doors through which the Undeem streak.
~ ~ ~
To one such crack she rushes into brown
lands where only stumps remain and give no
protection from orange skies’ burning throne.
Pillars of smoke mark war’s progress; it sows
the seeds of future destruction, but care
she can’t as sun’s lingering light sparks fire
in her shadow raiment; flee to what’s fair
she must; so dive into night’s amplifier,
she does, moving deeper into blue dusk.
Jumping from shadow to shadow, and mile
to mile, she makes swift progress east through husks
of what was until Shayari’s green miles,
protected by Guardians, magic’s refuge,
she reaches ahead of Undeem’s deluge.
~ ~ ~
Through enchanted boles, she sees a party
whose lumir lit halo glimmers and hurts
her eyes, making her turn aside and she
becomes the target for the Undeem’s hunt
that night leaving the party of Groundlings
and their Anandarwen guides to proceed
in peace to prosecute their quest’s ending.
While for Undreal, riven from the blasphemed
Undeem’s unseen hordes, her quest has begun.
A quest that rests on the sweet sleeping brow
of the babe clasped in her arms as she runs.
Shadows steal ‘cross her path but she’s not cowed.
She’s got a babe to protect and now raise.
For that, she who was lately damned, gives praise.
~ ~ ~
The story continues tomorrow…
If you’re a fan of sonnets that tell a story, pick up a copy of Stars and Angels Sing; it’s also written in verse and set in Shayari. It’s on sale now! Buy your copy here.
~ ~ ~