Page Seven

The light took form,

And formed to shape.

A deity, colored warm,

Projected from beak agape.

Goo-Goo eyed and cotton tailed,

The boy oogled and ahhed,

down rabbit holes, to depth they sailed,

Ode, the strangest sights he sawed.

Alas a woman took form open armed,

By her haloed spear, one could not be harmed.

Though not without feel of lethal power,

Before him was the thorn, not the delicate flower.

She was a queen,

Neither of where, nor when,

If ever she is,

She reigns there, and then.

Below her toes, was time held sand

She stood tall, lean, dark, and grand.

Adorned with materials not of this land.

It is the truth seen,

But not one the boy could understand.

What could this be?

"Hau",

Could it be?

He stood there, so primitive,

So ignorantly.

A swift slap cross the face,

That's what will do it,

That birds feet took the truth,

But his hand would renew it.

Red cheeked and throbbing,

Now silly he felt.

The truth he so longed for,

Rose to a welt.

The perplexed Woman examined the boy

Who had little a defining feature.

Pink hair,

Sunrise eyes,

Six tears of black soot.

Certainly a peculiar creature.

Not quite convinced, and entirely unsure,

How this fragile boy could possibly endure,

The fate that will come with this bird named Monstur.