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genesiswhen the crystal vase
can no longer hold
the enormity of our passion
we will shatter it
as gleaming shards
to become the stars
lifetimeshe dreams of the thunder of a thousand bison
and the gentle silence of the soaring hawk
he dreams of the nut-brown hands
that wait for him
in the skin shelter she made
for their wedding day
he dreams of cold breezes from the mountains
and warm skin against him
and the gleam in her eyes when they meet his again
he dreams of sunsets over endless plains
of her soft breath in his mouth
and a lifetime of precious touches
he wakes in the embrace of flannel sheets
and tender limbs
his fingers entwined with hers—
brown eyes gazing into his with that familiar gleam
The Rat and the DollSome time ago there lived a Rat of fine whiskers and a finer tail who stumbled across a small porcelain Doll in a farmer's rubbish heap. Entranced by the Doll's beauty, he carried her home with him and, to the amusement of his fellow rats, instated her as his wife. Finding that she was of little assistance in his daily rambles for food, the Rat placed her upon a slight ledge of the barn in which he lived and brought her an offering of sustenance each day, as well as flowers and other pretty objects with which to enhance her loveliness.
One day the Rat returned from his foraging to find the other rats throwing pebbles at his Doll. "Stop!" he cried. "Why do you abuse my wife? What has she ever done to you?"
"She does nothing at all," said the other rats, "and that is the problem. How has she proven herself worthy of the attention you grant her, or the offerings you provide?"
"Her beauty proves her worth," claimed the Rat.
But at that moment, a gust of wind swept the Doll off her perch an
The Crane Wife
The Crane Wife
Does that bird
think of bygone times
as it flies singing...
- Princess Nukada
There on the poor man's doorstep,
an arrow biting into my wing,
I flew into the arms of decision
my cries calling clouds,
even to the brow of Moon:
I would not be this;
kindness come to me,
and songs of a different flesh,
irresistibly new. That was why,
sped to health, I fled only to return
to the poor man's doorstep
a bird no more, a woman of silk.
And how the bamboo blinds
quivered with the storms of Spring;
how Wind shook Moon in the p
Truth and FalsehoodOne day, Truth and Falsehood met at an inn, both weary from their travels. "My old friend!" cried Truth, "Come, allow me to buy you a drink." So they drank and exchanged stories of their travels. As they talked, Envy walked into the inn. Upon seeing Truth and Falsehood, Envy grew jealous of their friendship. Envy decided to find a way to make them hate each other. Now, it so happened that Greed was staying at the same inn. Envy met with Greed to form a plan. "Look at those two," Envy hissed. "They can't be friends, they never agree on anything!" Greed was only half listening. Envy knew this, but was ready for it. "Of course," Envy said softly, "we need to stop it. It is unnatural, like a bird with no flight, or a fish that can't swim." At this, Envy pulled out a bag of gold coins. Greed's heart began to race, fingers itching to just grab the bag, to caress the gold with loving fingertips. Envy smirked triumphantly, the plan was working perfectly. "Now, this is what's going to happen,"
The Black Fox
Once upon a time, in a forest where three streams merged into a small, fast-flowing river, the locals say a shadow took life in the form of a black fox.
So shiny and thick and smooth was the coat of this black fox, it was said that hunters who caught sight of her were driven mad with the desire to own her pelt.
The best hunters for miles around chased after this elusive prey, but none succeeded. Indeed, many of them chased after the fox, deep into the darkness beneath the ancient pines, and never returned. Some believe they came across misfortune. Some believe they were taken by the fox into the fairy realm. Some have even more sinister theories to relate.
In a time when the autumn was crisping the leaves and turning the air cold, a young man went into the woods to gather firewood to sustain his family through the oncoming winter.
His bow was slung across his shoulders, and he carried an axe to cut wood, but he had no intention of killing any living creatures this day, and after many l
The Worm and the Epiphany"The Worm and the Epiphany"
Alas, the worm was blind. Making its way through fertile earth, never meeting a soul, not even its own. Not knowing kith or kin, it didn't seem to bother him as, day by day, he burrowed his tedious way through mulch and mire; heeding not the dark or the cold. Not needing to ask the question that never would tire because it never grew old. He was not simply "you" -- he was "it" who did not exist.
So on and on, as often goes with a worm, it continued the clandestine tryst to turn the soil. It was what he had learned, or was born having known. Was he born -- and born to toil? -- flashed a thought in the dark. Had he not? He never thought to ask it before.
Then suddenly, the worm broke through the crust of ground! It squinted hard into a blinding light, and basked in the shade of a sunflower whose head bowed low with curiosity, and promptly doused the worm with a s
The Teacher's SuccessorOnce, at a certain time, in a village with no name there was a teacher. As he aged he knew he would need a successor to take his place when he died. He decided that his smartest student would be his successor. Of all his students, three young boys were the smartest.
One day, the teacher brought the three boys up a hill that over looked the village. On the hill were three grand, majestic trees that stood at the same height.
He assigned each boy a tree, then said, "Get rid of your trees and you must tell me who did it the right way."
The first boy ran home and brought back an axe. After a few swings the tree was cut down. "I am right because this is the way to get wood to make our homes."
The second one ran deep into the forest to a raven's nest. He took some seed from his pocket and offered it to the raven. The raven swooped down and exchanged the seed for an elixir. Running back, the second boy doused the tree with the elixir. The tree writhed then turned into a flock of swans that fle
Fable: Lion and HyenasA lion had a deep hatred of hyenas, and he would roam the savannah and ruthlessly hunt down and slaughter any that he saw. For a while, the hyenas feared him, until one brave individual rallied them all together and proclaimed that they should fight back.
The next time the lion began to maul one of the hapless animals, the others emerged from the long grass and tore at the lion's flanks. He tried to defend himself, but there were so many hyenas harrying him from all sides that he was at last forced to retreat. Covered in bites and scratches, he wandered through the plains shouting, "Help me! Those hyenas have always had it in for me!"
Men claim persecution often when they are no longer allowed to persecute.
No Country for Old CrittersBein' an owl, I reckon I see most things that other woodland folk are just too blind to see. Can't see the forest for the trees, an' all that. Mostly simple stuff, nothin' worth writin' a book about. But I seen a couple things, mind, as could make a creature ponder its rightful place in the world. I seen a rabbit once't, possessed by the devil (or an adrenal excess) who done broke the nose offen the fox what was chasin' 'im. True, it's an unusual twist to see sich a thing happen, but that weren't nothin' compared to how that same rabbit feller got his nose broke by a female what he done decided to make friendly with. Glories of nature, spring . . . phooey. March madness, that's what it is.
Now, if he's wise, a creature might take a lesson from this here yarn. Might learn somethin' how danger'll getcha most easy in your own backyard. Another might see in this story as how despite all 'pearances no one is ever truly helpless. Me, near as I can figure I jus' reckon as how women is the mos
The Flame and the MatchThe Flame and the Match
Soft as light, but as searing and torturous as love can be, the still yellow flame stumbled quietly upon her wick.
And taking note, a small matchstick leapt from his box, with no particular understanding as to why. Instead he only felt the warmth and the beauty of the small creature, of some long-sought potential that had welled up inside him, so brilliant piece of himself he had never felt before.
"Love, my dearest, we've never met," said the match, "but I must say, you are nothing if you are not gorgeous."
And the timid flame blushed, and crawled lower upon her small pedestal. "Thank you. Oh, thank you! I've wanted to hear that for so long. For though I have lived for such a small time, I have known no joy such as this. I have wanted only to burn bright, to be recognized, and to warm and adore those very souls that should ever behold my beauty. And yet, that has not happened, for I was not beautiful. Surely, if I was, they would have noticed.
"That is not true
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Lilyas has dedicated herself to making our community a brighter place with her vibrant artwork and infectious enthusiasm for interacting with others in our community. It has certainly paid off, as many deviants flock to her page on a daily basis to let her know how much of an inspiration she is. We absolutely agree, and couldn't let all that hard work go without recognition, so it's with great pride that we bestow the Deviousness Award for March 2014, to ... Read More