Monday, April 25, 2016

The Mountain Lion

I stand where you cannot see me. I know where you might see. I choose my distance. I choose my time.
I watch you. I judge you. I see what you see. I see what you smell. I smell what you don't. I feel the earth beneath us. I know how the earth spins in the night. I know we were already connected before you saw me. I have felt you moving in the darkness and in the day. You were always coming to me.

My hunger made this mountain. My need gave it life. Your blood and flesh and song will drown me and intoxicate me. I will sink my chin deep into your blood as I lap it up, tear at it with my fangs and chew it with my savor, pull out pieces with my claws and my hardened fingers, you know the ones. Your song will be the last dirge of your life, the last exultation of your lust, the last ululation of your wildlike lizardry. I will howl long, long, and sleep sound, soundly, naked in your gore slicking our last bed. The law of the natural world: that which must be eaten must also eat.

I am a hunter who cannot hunt on the wind. I am a hunter who cannot hunt in the center of her web. I am a hunter who cannot work in large packs. I am a hunter who cannot digest her prey over weeks inside her pouching mouth. I am this hunter. I know you will come to me. I know when you are coming. I know when you come. I know how the earth spins in the night.

When the time is right, the mountain will slide into the sea, and what had been a Mountain Lion will learn to swim as the Sea Lion, and just as he learns what it means and what it takes to be the King in the Mountain, she will learn what it means and what it takes to be the Queen of the Seas.

And so such Royalty do shake the heavens high and fell the fey low.

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Is this wise?
Is this yours?
Is this love?

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