Wind and Water, Silk and Steel

January 20, 2016 § Leave a comment

A Word Portrait.

They are wind and silvered water, the intense razor calm of a hurricane’s eye. They are the wet velvet moss in the greenblack shadows of deep elder forests. A storm’s chaos whirls about them, threatening consumption of self or of others, yet there is silent order within.

They are silk and steel and blue-white coldfire. They move with the grace and tension of a kata, with all the warmth of such a sword-dance. Mirrors reflecting shadows, the calculating brightness of a raven’s eye, inky feathers sharp as words and knives at one angle but soft as fog at others.

Tension. Opposing forces held in a precarious balance. Trickster-ridden storm-crow, seeking, cataloging, weighing. Their scent is fresh-turned earth after a cold rain, lingering mist coating moss and pine, a cave’s entrance with its cool dank air.

Storm-rider, sleek-feathered, shadow-draped: these are part of their name in my senses. Wanderer, seeker, migrating scavenger of words/thought/memory. Cold bright eyes in a dark cowl, gleam of silvered glass, toothed ripples beneath the death-silent surface of a pool. Hidden edges, stilting bird-grace, ferality kept in tight check with a shining veneer of utmost decorum.

They are a sculpture of silver wire, solid in the core but delicately strung – gossamer filaments spinning out and around, fraying at the edges like exposed nerves. And yet there is a metallic stillness like moonlit water or ice at twilight, reflecting nothing but star and shadow, revealing nothing but the glint of a raven’s bright eye. A piercing beak all silver-drawn, cold-forged, wire-wound.


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