wyrdwind

His name means Chosen One,

borne in a day, forever young,

born the last of Dagda’s sons,

inheritance none.

With winged kisses and lovely song,

wit and wile, he played at love.

Tricked his father, a castle won,

a day and night known by Boann.

Swords and spears a purpose

above,

given to quests against all odds.

Everything that he could want.

It wasn’t enough.

A dream upon him in the night,

was it golden hands or many voiced,

tension on those strings just right,

just right.

Was it something in her eyes?

Saw her but couldn’t remember.

The most beautiful woman

he’d ever seen in his life.

Nowhere to be seen in the daytime.

Unattainable. He wasted away.

Narrowed his focus, a singular

point.

Only one thing

would bring him joy.

Would know her kiss

if it hid her bite.

He took no pleasure

in being alive.

His mother tried

to put it right, sickness

mundane, family divined.

Love in absence,

antidote hopeless,

without even a name

to go on.

They set out to find

this woman of strange

description.

Oh that took some time.

Some secret identity.

An ultimate mystery.

Who was she?

Finally,

a stricken cord.

Shapely Yew Berry,

many shapes indeed, fruit

of the deadliest tree. Death

Herself, you see. Caer

denotes a resting place,

an abode of stories and dreams,

she the master of these.

Ibormeith rhymes roughly

with river-faith. Anyway,

she dwelled beside a cursed lake,

a dragon’s mouth they say, banished

beneath a serpent. Story

for another day.

A swan upon its waters,

somersaulting Samhains,

bearer of All Souls.

Aengus flew to her at once.

Asked the blessing of her father,

but hers were the Old Ways.

This king had no say.

If he be worthy of her heart,

to that far shore he must depart,

and call to her by name.

Thrice fifty swans the same.

This flock of many beauties,

and he despaired his mate.

Only love survives the grave.

Aengus closed his eyes.

All those nights a journey made,

had to crawl to know her shape,

desolate and desperate.

Dreams aren’t fun and games.

Caer Ibormeith.

A woman once again,

looked upon her chosen man

and said where have you been?

Lover when I called you,

I didn’t stutter.

Gray hairs given your mother.

All turned about some other,

recollection muddled.

How noisy the waking world.

Aengus was here now though,

hand out,

if she would take it.

Wore the feathers she made him.

Thrice about that lake they swam,

song of such beauty

an entire kingdom slept.

A kingdom beyond is where they went.

That Ever After?

It’s the end.