AN
Please note that the prologue and the first 4 parts of Book 1 have now taken on a new form. Things still rhyme (as best as I could make them, any way) but no longer look like verse on the page.
Chapterwise: the prologue still stands alone. Parts I to IV have been grouped within a single chapter. The second Chapter will ultimately group 4 parts, too. Here is the second one of those.
Disclaimer: Mine and yet not. It's Stephenie's first and foremost.
AND IN BETWEEN, LAY A MEADOW
VI
And in Between Runs a River
[songs?]
.
So, I began to feel my tingling body
and my four limbs coming to life again.
I found that I was floating, slow and lazily,
my outstretched back leisurely lain
on a cool bed of rippling water.
.
She'd been running forever
at the bottom of the Sombre Lake,
the now forgotten ancient She-River
who'd reached for me to take me in her wake.
.
Would you have believed, Father
this son of yours if he had dared ever
tell you a sweet and light and gay She-Thing
still dwelt, a strong independent Girl-Being,
under your very nose,
in the darkest and most forsaken pit
of this great big dark kingdom of yours?
And that she daily managéd the feat
of coming and going unnoticed
right under both your kingly feet?
.
She was there first and long before
you made your petty stance.
She'd always had the precedance
and knew secrets you shall always ignore.
She's still there and still she knows
about the keys to long-forgotten doors.
.
She took me far from Father's guarded realm,
the She-River, my Water-Friend,
who now was lapping at my ear
and just before had been
who'd whispered to my addled brain
all the new words I liked to hear.
For they gave truth and meaning clear
to what I felt but just couldn't explain,
so that the good things rightly clicked
in a good place with the right name.
I know, it's short. Don't bite. Since I have not written much more than I had one month ago, I have chosen to distillate the meadow drop by drop, instead of giving you 1/ 3 of the bottle and nothing more for who-knows-how-long. It might take me some time to go back to where inspiration failed me and write some more to fill the rest of your bottle. You don't want to get drunk, do you? Or suffer from withdrawal. Or get sick over it all.
Until the next drop falls from the decanter, happy read.
