Tuesday, July 7, 2015

Le Royaume de Floraison

Once upon a time there was a kingdom ruled by a king who loved.

If on a dismal, sultry night

You enter the kingdom of Florescence on a quiet midnight. The sky above you is dark with the stars spread out and the moon half full, pregnant with anticipation of being full and heavy in the sky.

It is midnight, but all of the buildings have torches lit outside and there is singing and there is dancing. You can hear the music, people playing hammered dulcimers with immense precision. Someone else is playing the violin alongside and together they create a melody that is almost intoxicating.

There is a sign outside of a building, one whose windows are as bright as the moon, and inside you can see men and women clapping and dancing. And the sign says:

Our hearts shall be the torches of the shrine

You enter the building, the strange music calling you, but as you step inside, the music slows and stops and those dancing stop their movements and turn towards you.

"I'm sorry," you are compelled to say, "if I am interrupting. I was drawn to that music." Nobody says a word. "Do you know of an inn where I can stay? Or even a barn perhaps?"

There is a woman in the corner who is holding a violin to her chin. She lowers it and then says, "Welcome to Florescence, young lover who wants only but a bed and warmth. We are but humble players, we can provide nothing, only the King can do that."

"The King?" you ask, slightly bewildered.

"The King of Passion," the woman with the violin says. "Like angels with bright savage eyes, he will come treading phantom-wise."

"I don't understand," you say. "Can none of you give me a place to sleep without consulting your King?"

The woman runs her bow across the strings of her violin, creating a sound that starts as soothing but ends of screeching. "Only he who understands the language of flowers and other silent things can help you."

"Perhaps, I will find another place," you say as you careful step backwards.

"Many a flower regretfully," the woman says, "exhales perfume soft as secrets in a profound solitude."

You step outside and, after a few seconds, the music starts up again. But now, instead of inviting, you realize that the music is a warning, a warning to stay away from this place, these people and their King.

You move slowly to leave Florescence when you see a shadow come up behind you. You turn around, thinking perhaps someone will finally offer you a room or barn at least, and that is when you see him. One glimpse and those eyes

Strange flowers that bloomed beneath diviner skies

You cannot see. There is only darkness and pain, so much pain. Your eyes what happened to your eyes oh god

There is a voice like a soft whisper, like a lover, and he says, "Thy hollow eyes with midnight visions burn."

You can feel the warmth of his hand on your heart. You can hear his breath and the rustle of his clothing and his awful stink, some perfume that pervades your mind. You wish to the heavens that death takes you.

But it doesn't. The night is not over. It is the time of the midnight blooming, the time of flowers, of love.

It is the time of passion.

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