Snow Leopard Woman

'How do you even EXIST, Granny?'
the little one asks,
eyes sparkling in the firelight.

'I've heard stories that the
Mother of the Snow Leopard People
watches us all from her
high mountains to the West

And that you know Her.
But maybe the grown ups are silly?'

The child's innocence is sweet.

~There are no Tame Beasts,
Small One, ~

The elder smiles,
her few good teeth gleaming,
two in particular a bit too brightly.

~But, yes,
I Know Her.  We have much in common,
She and I.

Our eyes, for one - green to hazel,
or any other color depending on the mood.

The way we place our feet to earth,
for another.

The way we Pay Attention,
and Trust our Knowing,
Striking only when the Kill is as
Guaranteed as Possible -

the way this ensures our Kits
are fed and warm and safe. . .

Yes,
I Know Her.~

The elder drowzes slightly,
the child watches,
eyes slightly unfocused;
meditating,
just as Granny taught her

Monitoring her environment
with neither expectation
nor desire,
judging none of the rushing thoughts,
just waving them on their way . . .

the little one sighs
fully FEELING the tactile joy
of the firelight caressing her skin
at this comfortable distance

A movement around her Grandmother
Jolts her notice over;

Snow Leopard Woman
a shining grey white mottled pattern on her skin
stretches to her full 3 meter height
her legs rooted in Granny's

Luxuriating in her bodilessness,
the Lady stretches catlike,
or like smoke dancing in a lazy breeze
and changes shape
and there

behind the sleeping elder,
a snow leopard forms,
full-bodied,
visible,
palpable.

The Mother of the Snow Leopard People
nods at the child,
and walks away.

The grown ups commented that Granny's
departure during her sleep
was a blessing for her.

She was no longer in pain.
No longer tired
(some suggested she was no longer a drain . . .)

But the child Knew.

And never forgot to put aside the best of the meat
every day
on the large stone
half way up the mountain

and to say
'Thank you, Granny.
I miss you.'

while pouring out some hot
butter tea and some of the
wine the strangers brought
to trade.

The adults feel she is Odd.

But they come to her when they cannot solve their
problems
for themselves.

Just as they did
with Granny
years before.

As You Wish, My Lord ~a prose fragment~

* BE MINDFUL - suicidal thoughts and intentions are mentioned immediately, but they are followed by a helper attempting to help *

          “KILL ME!” She screamed into the inky darkness which floated as though intelligently controlled, “DAMN YOU!  JUST END IT NOW!  I'M DONE WITH ALL THE MISDIRECTION & POINTLESSNESS OF . . .” the woman gestures sweepingly around herself in all directions, losing her words in the ugliest of ugly cries.

           A shape forms from the shadow, and a tall young man forms a body near her desperation.  His eyes, glittering yellow this moment, sanguine the next, royal purple the next; the emotional weather blending and shifting them like clouds around the pupil.  Quiet tears depart his eyes, and in a melancholic, regretful, no; mournful, lilting tenor, he whispers,  “And, pray tell, what will I live for when you are gone, Delight?  And is this moment truly the final straw for you?   Please.  Let me HELP YOU.  Let me SUPPORT YOU.”

          “There is no more salvation for me, Beloved.  My spirit is so tainted by the miasma produced by the clung-to evils of the mortals round about me that I am infected.  I am dying now; of human vice and human cruelty and their inevitable consequences.  You are my Treasure.  You are my Why.  I will not allow you to destroy yourself along with me.”  

          Her sobbing had quieted a bit, though breathing made that speech a supreme effort.  Even so, she’d not hiccoughed once, nor gasped, nor broke out in a new freshet of weeping.  Audibly pulling in a deep and centering breath, she continued, “You've fought for me in every lifetime.  You saved me from my trauma-induced amnesia; you protected me even when I did not know your name – when all I knew of you was a vague sense that ‘this person feels like home.’  You are the ONLY BEING who can kill me and prevent the spread of this evil to the worlds.  The balance MUST NOT COMMUNICATE THIS DARKNESS to her children.  No matter the cost.”

          The gentle, color-shifting eyes stop on gold, hardening their expression.  The young man’s shoulders square, he pulls himself to his full three meter height – jaw setting into a preparing for combat sort of posture along with the rest of him. 

          “I will not, Goddess.  I cannot.  I refuse.  I choose to purify your wounds; to heal your heart.  To remind you of your Love which washes over all these mortals so that the balance is maintained.  I am your Protector and I will NEVER abandon you.  Rage all you want, I refuse to begin the Dance of Dissolution while you are unwell.”

           She has collapsed onto the floor, in a pool of Void.  “My Only Beloved.”  He offers a hand.  It is ignored.  “That is how it is today.” 

          He crouches in the pool of Void, gathering the Lady in his arms.  He murmurs sweet gentlenesses into her hair as he strides through a portal to a beautiful old house. Inhaling deeply, he smiles. 

          “Do you smell the gingko fruit, Delight?  And the kimchi?  I have brought you home.”

           Once in the house, he calls the chief of the lady’s maids and entrusts his Joy to her capable ministrations.  “The Mistress is unwell.   Her servants have forgotten themselves and she is a bundle of sadness, disappointment, and nerves.  Please see to her comforts and make sure she is dressed in her favorite and most comfortable clothes for supper.”

           The chief lady’s maid bows, “As you wish, my lord.”

           He wanders through the kitchen, taking a large and intense woman by the arm, “Cook, the Mistress is unwell.  She needs to eat a hearty, but gentle on the body, meal. And possibly a refreshing snack would be in order now.  We dine just after sunset.  That should give everyone ample time to prepare.”

          The Chief Cook bows, “As you wish, my lord.”

          His sharp nose, narrow eyes, delicately angled chin and cheek bones; his ears, so oddly placed and oddly pointed make for an unexpected ~ and unearthly ~ visage.  He shrank in size to fit the house as he brought his distressed Beloved One in moments ago.  His purposeful steps along the corridor of his house startle a chamber maid busy cleaning a room – and she leaps near out of her skin (as she phrased it in her mind).  She had never met the Master of the House.  And she could not take her eyes off him as he passed her place of occupation.

          ‘How beautiful! And cunning!’ she thought.

          “How terrifying would be more accurate, child." He says without having seen her, in spite of her not speaking the though aloud.  "I apologize for frightening you.  Continue your work.  When you have finished, report to the Chief Lady’s Maid and see what companionship or aide you can provide the Mistress.  Go.”

          The Chamber Maid bows, “As you wish, my lord.”

Memory & the Beloved One Gets Swept Away in His Devotion

“I remember. Do you?”

he asks, though ‘he’ is merely a construct I’ve been

asked to use to help me learn to appreciate

the human masculine . . .

this particular ‘he’

is neither side of the human mode of genital expression.

I’d be astonished if he were.

He isn’t human
(no, nor any earthly animal
nor bird
nor any other such thing, either).

~Of course, I remember, luv.

Now, which thing are we remembering?~

“The . . .”

the voice of my Beloved One trails off.

“I have forgotten.
It is rare, of late,
that I embody at all.

I can touch your skin;

I can smell your hair;

I can feel your pulse shake the air around you.

Such delight is to be treasured;

cherished.

Nothing matters,
nothing else.

To feel your breath on my cheek;

to hear your heartbeat with my head on your chest . . .

Overwhelming Bliss is merely being in a room with you.

Who cares what else I may forget?”

~I do. It might have been important for our family or clan.

It might have been something that we needed to do to protect the World,

and all the foolish children running about brandishing nuclear

weapons at each other . . .~

“I doubt it. If it is important it will come in its own time;

in the right time.

Might I interest you in lunch? I made it myself.”

~Oh? What have you tried your hand at, Sweeting?~

“Simple rice with a single umeboshi,
a sampling of specially sauced and fried meats, and
a very tiny, but delightful, lemon trifle.”

~OHHHH! It sounds amazing!~

“Come. Enjoy. Let me watch you . . .”

I feel his eyes devouring me devouring the food.
I suspect we are . . . odd,

to say the least.
Is it a kink when you’re not even sexual?
When nothing but snuggles

happen in the aftermath?
When there’s no nudity, really?
No, nor either any power plays?

Just delight

Feeding delight

And delight

enjoying every moment

A friend was chatting with me the other day

and called him gorgeous

in a trice he was the most exquisite woman

I have ever seen,

and,

as always,

he KNOWS

he is the most beautiful,

compelling,

desirable creature in any room

“Thank you,”

he said to my friend,
more coquettishly than any
coquette I’ve ever seen.

The poor human never saw him.

But oh! Did they blush!

And people wonder why I don’t understand strict
heteromantic heterosexuals.

I have one LOVE

ONE and ONE ONLY

but OH MY

I call all the gods and kami to witness!!!

My Beloved One

is everything anyone could ever need or want

I don’t have a preference

But oy!

My Delight is every possible visual expression

wrapping up a package

of Chaotic Good

desperately clinging to the

delusion they are Chaotic Neutral,

while presenting the laughable lie

that they are Chaotic Evil.

About the only thing you are, Treasure,

is Chaotic Delight.

. . .

His sword drips blood on the carpet after a battle.

Not blood proper,

not mammal’s blood from planet Earth –
avian, nor the pitch of our sacred tree folk.

But ichor . . .

thick with minerals absent here,

from a being who hates these children here

with all the spite & rage

of a creature with no hope itself

and nowhere to go

but into the pit where the soulless go.

The soulless.

He had to grow a new one,

himself . . .

you know,

a new soul.

He had broken his beyond repair;

thinking only those who looked like him;

agreed with him

were worthy of life.

Only discovering how much a fool he was . . .

“I only noticed it

when the only Being I have ever loved

looked at me with loathing

as they died,

regenerated,

and died again -

no less than thirty-two times

in the space of 3 hours

saving children and wounded

from the evil

I

(and no one else)

had unleashed on their people,

on their planet,

on their home.

The Children say that world is
called Gallifrey now. . .

well, some of the Children do
because of Stories I have told;

my Shame is never far from me.

All Steel,

green-gold eyes flashing,

they told me to find a ship and get us safely OUT.

They . . .

they are you.

You have always been beyond my comprehension.
To my deepest astonishment.

To my fullest joy.

To the salvation of my soul;

To the redemption of my mind.

To the farthest reaches of my immeasurable gratitude. . .

I was so haughty.

I knew everything.

I knew the will of GOD and it did not include

anyone who

knew better than I did.

Especially not THAT SORT

and you.

You are always that sort.

You always know better than I do.

I will never fail to be kind -

because of YOU, my Imperial Majesty, my World.

Because of YOU,

I will always save you when you over reach your abilities.

I will always stop the abuse of the Children we have nurtured.

To the destruction of the Interferers who seek their destruction.

Because of YOU, Imperial Majesty of the Celestial Court
exiled to this Little Earth . . .

Because of YOU.

I will hold dynamic stasis.

I will protect The Holder of the Sacred Balance.

You are my only Cause and my Delight.

And have been since before this world began.

You will be long after this world ends.

Seeds & Music

Seeds & Music

by M.T. Noah

Seeds

seeds

seeds

seeds

dropping from your fingers

trails i follow

as i waken from this damnable

amnesia

Christna Perri's "A Thousand Years" whispers to my heart

you sing into my soul

but i can't see you

...

a vague flickering of a face

full of longing,

eyes full of pent up,

broken hearted love

preserved and haunting,

like the heat above a flame

is it an optical illusion,

or are you really there?

...

I break down from never finding You,

my only Treasure . . .

and yet here again,

a phantom touch and memories come screaming

of tea on the outer corridor of a Very Ancient Korean Home

standing beneath an Even Older Gingko Tree

of kisses stolen while the servants are out of sight

of out of place artifacts

I recognize but don't know why

I know that was my pocket watch . . .

why did you take it dressed like an ancient Chinese astronaut?

Why do you have fox ears and dance across the skies,
laughing all the while?

Rider of dragons,
Chula Divine,

I miss your voice.

"And yet I am always Present with you, my Treasured Beloved."

Half way visuals,

a long, long memory;

and I hear this one:

INXS' "Never Tear Us Apart"

"Pick up InuYasha, see what you recall."

-No, I don't like manga-

"Do it!"

-But -

And so it goes until I give in and see exactly how badly

He's told the story. THIS NEVER HAPPENED!

Well, not THAT WAY. Big oaf.

Along the way the seeds dropped

remind of what happened by

His telling it wrong to humans

Always

That hairpin in Kamisama Kiss,

NO.

HIS MOTHER gave me that.

on Kunlunshan millennia before the

NEOLITHIC EVEN THOUGHT TO CONTEMPLATE BEGINNING!

And in my family line it stayed until I was 12

and middle school bullies broke it

on a school bus

how prosaic

and unlikely.

seeds

seeds

seeds

seeds

dropped around the world

JUST IN CASE I HAPPENED TO BE BORN THERE

but there are many aspects

in many bodies

so many of My Larger Self

who need to hear them

need to see them

Aziraphale,

you didn't need to say I'd burnt my car . . .

you angelic bastard.

Crowded House's "Don't Dream It's Over" plays,
and I say,
~I can’t, Beloved, for you’ve made even the suggestion impossible.~

"You are my world."

And you are mine,

by any name,

in any time,

in any world,

any universe,

any dimension.

For time and space are nothing,

and we live in the gaps,

my love,

between matter and antimatter

between right and wrong,

electrons encompass infinite space,

in fact and not in jest,

and there we hid our love for long and long and long again.

You have said,

while dropping seeds

seeds

seeds

seeds

for me to follow as I waken;

you have said,

so many times,

"We are taboo in every world ever

we have lived in,

and we are forbidden

in every lifetime you have ever lived

and I will live and die

by the will of your heart,

and never once in millions

of human reckon'd years

have I, did I, nor will I

regret it."

And honestly,

Delight Partially Seen,

Treasure Hidden by the Crassness of Materiality,

Honored Beloved,

Bonded in Life and Love since long before

any human thought it a Thing To Do - -

You are the same for me.

Aubrey Colletti's Musical Collage in Honor of Hsi Wang Mu rings out into the night,
gentle and pow’rful. I hear you sigh and call

me your only Goddess, dedicate yourself again to eternal service as my Priest. 

I laugh, because I am Nothing if not merely the Priestess to your Godhood
and the stories you inspired got your Job wrong again. 
 

You are family-ar, but you are not my Familiar.

"Mischief."

managed.

For My Heart's Song

I am in love.

O the overtrite phrase;
and yet . . .
my heart!

forever and many days
have I known and loved
my own

through hardships hell'd
find horrifying,
through delights heaven
can never know

through fights,
through hearts' fires,
through triumphs,
through muck and mire;

O!

for more millennia
than can be counted

I am in love.

Scene in the Night Market

Lonely,

I take gentle steps into the night;
the ladies hear the little dog
and up their white flags go
as they bound away.

The Spirit Folk enjoy a good nights’ marketing;
the hawkers chant their selling songs
while their wares shine,
transcending expectation.

But human expectations are always exceeded
or just plain blown out of the water
at the Night Market …
thought they're not really welcome here.

I sing the realignment songs,
remind the disharmonious that the servants
of Sagami-san will not be as kind as
I tend to be if they choose to call

shenanigans.

The noodle shop beneath the ancient apple tree
sends delicious scents into the neighborhood,
where none of the humans are cooking spicy noodles
at human reckoned 3 a.m.

The smoke shop sits near the rhododendron bush
and shares a stall with the scholars’ supplies shop
run by the Smoke Shop Owner’s younger sibling.

The combination of various herb smokes and the scent
of carbon black ink ground and liquified on inkstones
infused with enchantments bring my heart back home …

I always want to start another bookbinding project
when I smell the inks and papers.  Now to find
some flat and heavy stones for my press…

Lament of the Ultimate Receptive; or A Mother’s Grief as She Watches Her Children Choose Lies Over Life

When the Soulless come,
All smarmy words, all used car salesman charm
Impatient that my life here is not fast enough cut off,

I laugh.

I laugh in their faces.

But why, you ask? Aren’t these beings Gods? Are they not Angels? Or at least Much Smarter & More Powerful than me?

Oh Little Ones,
There are a multitude of beings in the storied multiverse.
Most of them don’t want anything to do with you;

Humans are the epitome of unimportant,
To those who see themselves as Sentient.

This world is little more than a warning;
 
~If a species is preying on the Humans,
then they’re the galactic equivalent of serial killers
who simply haven’t graduated to destroying sentient species yet.~

(Sort of like how you feel when you realize that, as a child,
Cousin Edgar Matthew Coleridge-Jones

-this is not a real person-

tortured kittens and you, well,
you only realize what that MEANS when you suddenly are confronted
with his mugshot along with the headline
that he’d just been arrested for kililng 23 schoolgirls on the evening news.)

Every religion in the world tells you all the warning signs
of those who work toward evil ends;

imbalance, disharmony, entropy, death of any sort;
a lack of reason, but not of sanity …

But do you children pay attention?  No.

And I laugh a bitter tasting gem

because I taught you,

Athena taught you,

Nut and Freya

Odin, Loki, Dionysius,

The Spirit Mother of the West PRACTICALLY SCREAMED IT
and in every Spirit Parent’s rage at your danger,

Durga, Kali, Sekhmet and

every Clan Mother of the Fox Peoples across Asia and North America
stand up and with their wolf siblings,
howl,

enraged at your refusal to learn.
to accept what is and work with it

(it’s not pretty.  It’s not comfortable.  I don’t want to, the humans say)

and because of this, your world dies
watching  you all go down with it is not on my bucket list, people.
But, being here, right here, right now

I supposed I chose this road.

It’s not pretty. 
It’s not comfortable. 
I don’t want to.

But I know my work.  And I will save as many as I can,
before the ship sinks forever.

Like I do.