The Swan Queen

The Swan Queen

I am caught in the snow blizzard. Caught in the nightime, in the glare of the moon. Caught amongst the tumbling snowflakes. I am in the middle of nothing, alone. The snow is falling and the sky is black. I stand so still and look up to the dark sky, the night sky and the stars are falling all around me. Everything stops, time has no meaning in this land. I am caught between dreams and reality. Caught in nature's embrace.

The snow is falling, all around me. It gently touches my skin, dissolves into water. Trickles down my skin, down my neck, down my back. I shudder at the sensations it gives me. I stare up at the black sky and watch everything fall around me. My eyes blinking, pupils dilating, expanding, trying to take everything in. The beauty of the moment. The white snow falling from the blackened sky. Large snowflakes that flutter, fall, descend all around me. Cover the earth, the ground. A blanket of snow like royal icing on a cake.

I do not feel the coldness of the snow as it creeps up my legs. The sloshing sound underneath my boots. I am just caught in the moment. Five o'clock in the morning, the silence of the night. The world asleep. Not a sound, not a peep. No other human around. Just silence and snow, the beautiful snow. Falling like icing sugar. Falling, sifting through the air.

I look around me. The landscape blanketed in snow. I blink. I stare ahead of me. A mirage? A palace of ice and crystal, snow tundra's. It glitters in the moonlight like a thousand diamonds. Sparkles like jewels on a crown. I stare in disbelief. I cannot believe what I am seeing, what I am looking at. I blink rapidly, pinch myself. But it is still there. A castle, a palace rising up from the ground to meet the heavens above. Cut in a perfect shape.

I begin to walk towards it.

We come closer together. Each step brings us nearer. Almost touching. I stand before the palace. I pull my coat around me. The snow still falling and covering everything. I touch the walls, smooth and hard. My gloves touching the ice, the crystal. The light of the moon reflected in a thousand colours, like a prism the palace catches the light. I breath, sigh. My lungs filling up with the night air.

I touch the door and it swings open. A slow sound, a creaking sound as the door swings open. I pause in thought, in motion. Stand still and survey all that is before me. A courtyard, a fountain of fresh clear water. I walk into the courtyard and the doors close behind me. Everything so white, so pure and majestic.

Lighted windows, candles burning against the stained glass windows. A multitude of colours cast and dance upon the snow. Brightly lit like lights on a Christmas tree. I marvel at the beauty of it all.

Then through the snow blizzards, I see her. Through the falling snow she is there watching me, observing me. She is the snow, the ice and crystal. She glides over the snow and stands before me.

I look to her eyes, her eyes are like emeralds that sparkle and glitter, like jade, like many precious stones. I see myself reflected in the light of her eyes. Her hair is powder white and sparkles as if someone has thrown a handful of silver glitter pieces over it. Her skin is a patchwork of diamonds and crystals. Opals and white moonstones sparkle and glint before me. A cloak of white furs and feathers hangs from her shoulders to meet the snowy ground. The coat becoming one with the snow and it becomes hard to define where she begins and ends. A slender dress of white satin hugs her body, defining her hips and her blossoming breasts. Upon her head, she wears a crown of ice and crystal in the shape of a star. Sculptured and cut it reflects her inner light. The light of the moon. Her feet encased in white velvet slippers. When she walks, everything swirls around her like the snow blizzards. Like a glass snowball turned upside down.

We stand facing each other, looking into each other's eyes. Her thoughts becoming my thoughts, my dreams and ideas.

I see her waking moments spent lost in music, reading and painting. In quick strokes, she captures the essence of man. Upon her canvases she creates life, creates men. She captures life in a passing moment of passion, temptation and anger. Men that are gods, dancing demons, seducers and tempters, abusers and sharp painful lovers.

In music, she dances like a whirling dervish. Spinning, spinning, round and round. Her feet hitting the floor in rhythm and beat. She is the beating music, the soundless note etched on the music sheet. She is the clapping hand, the string plucked on a harp. The chord struck on a piano.

Everything within explodes, conspires to melt my soul and mind. To draw me in. I look to the skies and the sound of beating wings surrounds me. White feathery wings, graceful and soft. Her long feminine fingers stroke my cheek, sharp nails that caress my face. Stroke, touch, linger, feel and seduce. I close my eyes and linger between the thought of her touch and the images that move within my mind.

She opens her arms and draws me in. Her eyes, her lips gently parted. I walk towards her body. Her gown, her cloak encasing me. Moving around me. I rest my head against her beating heart. Thump…..thump…..thump. The beating sound the only thing I hear. The only thing I care about. Her hair brushes my face in long sweeping caresses. Her arms encircle me. Stroking my body, my soul.

Her love is of a higher place.

I feel the wind rushing in my ears.

'Oh God' I moan out loud

She holds my head in her hands draws it close to her face and whispers into my ear.

'Do not be afraid.'

We are rising higher and higher. The ground below, her palace a pinpoint of light faraway. A speckle amongst the falling snow.

Everything is swirling around us. Nothing is the same; nothing stands still long enough to make any sense. A swirling pattern, a kaleidoscope of shifting images and colours.

Our clothes begin to unravel, pulled by invisible hands. Stitch by stitch they fall away. Feathers fall from her cloak, swirl around us. Our clothes disintegrate into a single thread of spun wool. Amongst everything, we are naked. The snow may fall, the cloud's rush by, but our bodies are the heat of an undying, unquenched burning love. We hold against each other. Arms and legs wrapped around each other. Floating, falling, drifting amongst the snow.

Her lips, her lips…..oh such delicious touches. They brush my lips, static kisses. Electric currents pulsing through our bodies. Her soft white skin is dazzling and jewelled. Her lush, full breasts pressed against my skin, nipple to nipple. Rubbing, erotic, hard and soft. I feel her wet secret place encase my body. Pushing, pulsing against me. We become a rocking motion. Backwards and forwards, rocking back and forth. My hands grip her body, closer and closer we come together. Melting into each other, becoming one, becoming the snow, becoming the landscape. The moon shining all around us, the light reflecting in our eyes, shining outwards, rays of light. We are the moon and the moon is us.

I feel her blood, feeling it pumping through her veins, feel her beating heart. How loud it beats, pushing against my chest. Her tongue against my flesh, licking and caressing. I shudder at the touches. I move my mouth to her neck and then…then….I sigh out loud, Cry across the universe, across the landscapes.

I feel the moment come crushing across me. This crescendo, this waterfall I feel I can longer contain within me. I feel my heartbeat beating faster, racing across the starry night sky. A moan escapes from my mouth and rushes into her. It rushes into her neck as I bite into the porcelain flesh. I feel her teeth pressed against my neck and I surrender, surrender to everything. Surrender to the moment of intoxication.

Blood.

Blood splattered against the snow. Bright and crimson. Staining the snow

Feathery wings unfurling from her back.

Everything is silence. A shattering moment, a distant sound. A clanging timbre, a ringing bell. It rushes through us like a tidal wave.

Everything explodes. Shatters like glass, a thousand shards we have become scattered by the winds. But within her, she carries our child. The Moonchild. Our creation.