Plundering The Sun

In the forest...by the waterfall...an old gentleman stirs...his eyes again bright...as alive as...an eighteen year old's...birthday...recalling the years...those sated sun dappled...days of nakedness...with other boys...young men thundering...their loins laughing...happiest in morning light..apple orchard rows...of trees upright...and growing...right before his eyes...the old man...murmured something...

his faint hand...pass'd before the sky...another vision now...young ladies circl'ing...new breast's swir'ling...nippled fruit...the young men suckling...cool misted droplets...of the springs...of life...in that clear...splashe'd place...of waterfall...now cover all...loins sopped hairs...beaded by irradiant...tiny sun glints...off the flesh'd...and brilliant robes...of human children...

"Merlin...Oh...Merlin?"...came a sweet voice...his reverie askew...but holding..."Merlin?" "Yes dear." "The boys are quite gay."..."Yes...indeed they are...quite colorful." "Merlin...Nimue smiled...you are such...a poor old lie'r." "Yes I know...dear Nimue...but only to myself." "They are beautiful...dear Merlin...would you...have them all?' 

"But one would do...or two." "The young men?" Old Merlin blushed...the way a boy...would do..."You know me...too well...lovely Nimue."...again the old man...moved his hand...and murmured something...the vision...but the sun...and years remained...all other went away...as two endearing...elderly and wise...old gods...enlaced each other's hands...and walked along...giggl'ing and banter'n...far into the forest...of the dawn...


Written by Bruce James Clyde 2015

Art: Arcadia, by Thomas Eakins