Poetry Corner: Crystal Blossoms 4 by Loki

Fandom:Sailormoon Rating:PG13
Created:2009-05-04 Modified:2009-05-04
Summary:More poetic reflections from my writing of Sailor Moon, enjoy!
Crystal Blossoms 4

Crystal Blossoms Part 4

A magical girl’s promise to the sprites (1)

Shall the child see the diminutive little folk in the dew-drenched morn?

Since the birth of the little elemental princess, her watchers had been waiting, hoping and dreaming of the day she would see them, speak with them and love them and they would reciprocate. But was it all just a dream?

She stepped groggily out onto the veranda, looking like a little morning faery herself, she lit up with the joy of the singing songbirds and the beauty of the dawn. She loved the colors, the scents of flowers and the aromatic apricot trees, now laden with ripe fruit caressed by the freshness of the gentle morning breeze.

She was truly content. She breathed in a lung-full of the fresh morning air into her small lungs. With an adorable sigh, she released the breath ever so slowly, watching it crystallize upon the coolness of the morn, her body tingling with the invigorating action. Then, she looked in their direction, eyes aglow with wonder. But, does she really see them?

They observed the sapphire aura forming around the four year old and winked at one another knowingly. The faeries stop for a moment to watch the child as she blinked as the light of the golden sun peeked over the rose bushes, jasmine, gladiolas and lilies.

Liata, Princess of the Sprites, sat cross-legged upon the narrow platform at the feet of the birdbath’s stone figurine of a white marble moon girl cradling a sphere Liata took to represent the silvery night orb. The figure she recognized as Serenity of the Moon, the statuesque girl’s long locks pouring over her graceful marble form to her calves.

Liata’s own hair, a silvery-blue, was of a similar length. She smiled at the thought that she and the statue looked so alike but for Liata’s lovely sapphire-blue physique .

She smiled at the child that had yet not seen Liata or the rest of her guardians.

Ami rubbed the sleep from her eyes.

‘Oh, let her look to the birdbath and the flowers around her, and there child you shall see a sight that will delight the heart! Yes, winged girls of sapphire-blue -- yes, blue and silver are our wings. See them flutter. Can you see our little bodies? We, the tiny women watchers and our offspring, the faery girls and the cheeky elves that splash my darling ones, do you not see, they’re pouting and giggling at the antics of those mischievous lads? But, yee don’t see!’ she lamented, tears in her eyes as she waved a tiny hand and the gemstone codec in her lap vanished. She stood up, brushing her skirts and waving like the others. Liata knew it was futile, but she still did it anyway as they all did, every morning.

Once again, the sapphire sprites flew towards the edge of the stone pool and tackled the handsome elves, one in particular had lost his cap, he also, lost his heart to Princess Liata who had sought him out and kissed him upon his pursed lips, the elf pleased that Liata stole the kiss.

‘Oh, Liata, this day, my heart’s secret wishes doth come true.’

Her companions danced, played and dreamt. But one looked to the smog-filled sky looming upon the Tokyo horizon and sighed, ‘Oh why can’t they see they’re making the sky cry, and the Great Lady lament? I must do something, but a wish is only as effective as the magic one can ignite if the little girl hears my plea. Oh little one, don’t forget me, don’t forget your faeries! We are your protectors!’

Ami, spellbound, mouth agape, broke into a brilliant smile and caught Liata’s eye.

‘You see me, by the Kamis! She can see us all!’ and with a shout of joy, hundreds of sprites, elves and nymphs looked at the little girl. Cute in her pink nightdress with its bunny motifs, she made her way along the ornate stone path, flanked by daisies and irises.

She knelt on the damp grass, not caring that her knees were cold and wet and covered in grass clippings from the day before when the gardener had cut the lawns.

Giggling with delight, eyes wide as saucers, little Ami extended her delicate hand and a shy little sprite by the name of Ashalia, sprang into her palm and bowed.

“I hear you, and I won’t forget, and I will make sure the Great Lady will smile again…I promise!” Ami answered in a sweet reassuring tone as all the faery folk bowed en masse, tears and joy in all their eyes as they played with their little mistress.

‘However, little one, will you remember when the world takes you into itself, my princess?’ Liata asked herself as the child of the Kamis held court. Flying about the little girl’s head, Liata zoomed in and placed a kiss on Ami’s cheek and flew off, and made a wish that life would be kind and that the sapphire child would awaken upon her fourteenth year. ‘But, she may think this a dream, something of a flight of fancy, I hope she remembers us.’

Ode to Chess and hearty baking (2)

Shall we play, or shall we eat, that, is the question,

It is not that thou must hesitate, for victory is oh so sweet,

I therefore, say to said Chibi challenger, ‘thou’st must play to eat and I shall have my fill, my pound of cookie treats yet!

Oh delicious chess pieces, I shall know thee well,

Oh, Jovian Shortbread and icing dreams abounding,

Victory is mine!

This royal tummy shall delight in your candy taste and my eyes light up,

I concede oh little princess daughter mine, much bigger are my eyes than my belly!

“But mother dearest, thine hand is quicker than your eyes; shall we fight for these with swift hand and shared appetite as doth the raven upon its prize?”

(Giggles from mother and daughter as crumbs and bloated cheeks have their way)

The ravenous Bunny and The Munchkin of Crystal Tokyo

Ancient Whispers of Portent (3)

A ghost of his former self; he drifts and is much sought after by those seeking the core of love’s in-most secrets; shall he tell them to you, Shoujo? Go not to the haunted temple, its ramparts no longer sturdy, and rotting with age. If unworthy, the columns that support the stricken structure will fall upon you and you shall perish.

Kiss of the Crystal Blade (4)

I call you, Mamoru, my friend and king of Earth, Endymion. You know me as Hotaru. But I am also the keeper of silence, the monarch of Saturn.

I call upon the children of your dominion, those with the dreams of Helios’s temple he tends, as would the watcher of a sleeping child to open their eyes. Dreams are the breaths between the living and the canyons of velvet night in death.

Suspended is your blue pearl in the place of its birth and eventual demise, known as Earth or Terra to us Old Ones, its pulse cupped in the loving womb of the infinite mosaic.

But I, the forgotten story, the song of a girl receding, the princess of ancient forgetting, I remember. I remember you, all of you… This I know with absolute certainty; the children of Terra, are afraid of the night, the darkness and what it consumes. But you know little of its true abundance. It is mysterious and awaiting its season to unfold. Shall it claim your tiny light? No, not yet, you have a trail to blaze, little ones.

But you are forgetting; I am the womb, your silent and all-encompassing mother, the gateway, the devourer and the black hole or singularity of Pandora, a whispered secret in the form of a shrinking adolescent girl. But as you know, I am much more than this… Amaterasu’s cave personified --am I,

Now you fear me. You are estranged from me. I, having thrust you into this life from the sanctuary of the Goddess, bade you open your eyes, hearts and stand before the combined light of the eight-petal crystal Chrysanthemum, the core of Affinity. Celestial sisters; warriors of Serenity, she the queen of an eternal prism and its wayshower. I call to each of you: Jupiter, the thunderbolt can enliven, destroy darkness, and it feeds the Earth and is protector and executioner, The Oak, the tower of strength, the sleeper of wisdom to come and of wisdom in repose, these things I see in your eyes, your movements, words and actions.

Mars, guardian of the flames that direct the magic of fire, to the power of a shape shifter, or the cleansing force, the purifier, the sultry lover, the whore and provider. Mars, you hold this quintessential mandate.

Yes, and you ask; what of the beautiful and powerful Sailor Venus -- she whom is the personification of the promise, the kiss and living animator, servant of the future, sweetness and fertility. She, the passion fire, a flame of a differing sort, representing silver blade and beauty, presiding over a perennial symmetry of the heart. In the embrace of lovers, she works her magic, to dream, sleep and to give of themselves to create a new life, a new pleasure from the tiny deaths of two who love. Venus, the patroness of love and of romance, as warrior of the heart, driving nations as she does countless ships, armies, offering themselves as sacrifice in love’s name.

Mercury, the maiden of ice, but in the cool embrace of the intellect is found warmth and love of a more different and tender character. For the mind has its own radiance, its own seduction. She, not devoid of sensual fire, the flames cool to the touch, but a smoldering fire burns that is well understood by the wise. She, the wisdom enchantress, Aquarius, the flow and the wayshower, the loyalty of those forces she imbibes as the mistress of water. She is the governess of the tides of fortune, of dreams and manifestation as water is the servant of life, and yet, can drown nations and feed the flowers and serve the harvest’s sacred moon.

Death, is life inverted, the two way street of paradox. But you look only in one direction. You rose from the timeless sea of Mara, and you will find your way back to me again, when sun and moon dance and kiss, and a stirring in my womb alerts me to your return. Existence is but a series of micro fractures that play out a necessary imperative. You must leave me, to go on, to build and sew the measure of time, Like the Sakura, to feel the wind kissing your mortal petals, to sink your roots in uncertainty. All the more to savor its glory, and mature.

I see the secret innocent child in your eyes that refuses to retreat despite the gathering of years that like a debutante’s billowing skirts or the overcoat of a strong young man, finds the irresistible longing in the burnished setting of the sun as it gives itself to the celestial diadem that cradles the silver moon. Dusk is a colorful prelude; summoning, it sings to you and its enticing promise of gentle oblivion, so sweet and yet, so completely sad, a sumptuous contradiction to be sure.

But you resist, as you must. You are the forerunner and outpouring of the emergent dreams realized. The gestation of worlds and hopes of the rising tide that longs to wash upon the newborn shore; the sweet ensemble of nature’s royal court. The place where it rains dreams, those things lost and found in the awakening, on the cusp of the impossible I wait for you with open arms,

Queen Saturn

The Moon Bunny and the Love Letter

Letter to my Secret Love (5)

A lifetime is a longtime to be a watcher of dreams. I thought I’d never find you. Am I too late, are the leaves that have fallen for me in my solitude – my autumn – my season be too far away from you my beautiful Lady Spring? Will you not take the hand of the man who loves you.

I stare at the sunlight. Its refracted prisms dissolving into the silhouette of a girl I thought would never love me, yet she is here by my side.

I sigh, catching the fleeting fragrance of a reality I entertained as a dream, her voice, her touch, and her company. Oh, how I love you so. She is a thought, a wish, a dream made real by the shifting of the tides that carried her to me, mere chance. I think not.

Could you love a guy like me? There is a place for you in my heart where I prepare the ground to receive the bloom of your affection, torn apart by such distances, the stars we kissed and the moon we beheld with a secret thought, a fire, a need and a longing no amount of denial would diminish. Your eyes might not see the color of the world abounding, but I have enough sight to be your eyes, my heart -- we were meant to be.

My sweetest love -- Wise and pretty, a myriad wonders are you. You are a dancer in my dreams and imagination that longs for the softness of your voice and of your full lips. Now yours are mine and mine yours, mutual melting moments of bliss and surrender, the thorn and the rose has found her home and the bedraggled warrior a new reason to go on.

The future, we know is perpetual presence, all things are truly possible. I know that now. Thank you my love for realizing a life-long dream, to be with you.

We laugh. We sometimes spar. The tenderness of thoughts in words that yearn to be realized in the form of a kiss, to feel your warm body pressed against mine. I would allow the love to fill me to the brim, back when we were fleeting acquaintances wishing for that same radiant passion to flow between us. How I longed to feel my lips upon the soft skin of your face, stroke your soft dark tresses and lose myself in those deep wells you have for eyes.

I would sit looking into the well of my coffee cup, a life spent in search, taken down byways and alcoves, a candle dragged down to the pool of melted wax. But my light is alive and will not be extinguished, thanks to you, my flower, and my smiling and lively song, my love.

I know we are sometimes like snow and sun. The Rain falls hard upon the earth and I must grow through seasonable trials. I know; all part of the game, the jousting and the times we are clashing, it is for the deeper things we seek. I know I may overwhelm you sometimes, but I know you love me. You know my heart is yours.

I am not afraid to say, how much I love you, and if you had turned away, at least you would have had a moment to inhale the scent of the rose of love I bestowed upon you before walking out of my life. A moment in time can be a gracious eternity, to remember the touching of fingertips, the suspended moment when we revealed our deepest feelings. I will always love you and stand by your side so long as you want me there.

I long so to hold you, to kiss you and listen to your soul as you bask in mine, be my flower!

Your secret love

Love and its Fragility: dedication to Princess Serenity of the Moon Kingdom

We are, you and I, nomads of tomorrow. We fly upon the tides of crystalline seas. I long for your touch, Serenity, my beloved Moon Princess.

We are to be re-born in a time where we shall be as strangers and will have to find each other’s hearts once again. The cradle of the innocent is stolen by a jealous star, but love will endure. It always does.

As life enfolds the kaleidoscope of my soul within her lattice of silvery stars, showering me with freshly cut blood-red blooms –I am betrayed. This is an epiphany of a kind reminding us of its ephemeral nature and untested powers.

Love is often forged in blood and fire, then poured as libations to the golden maiden in all her manifestations -- my muse, my heart, my reflected counterpoint. Psycho pomp of dreams and visions, finding voice through flesh and blood -- lost then found.

We are but tempestuous dancers in the clashing of cosmic winds. Lives conjoined for but a fragment of time. What do we make of the crystal blade of fate that devours the imperishable? I look a little closer into the spherical mirror that reflects that which desire invokes. My lucid dreams and fiery secrets weighed upon Maat’s scales of the heart, juxtaposed to the shadows of our fears and insecurities. For what do wishes afford us? Dead leaves caught in a summer breeze, not only do they give off the scent of sweet summer that fills our nostrils, but that of death and decay. Should we fear this challenge? No, not ever, for this is an offering to eternity, surrendering its fragility, its strength, our legacy.

A new season flourishes as the blue-crystal eyed maiden of golden hair passes from this world and her lord meet a new princess in the coming spring, for not always are our sacred and fertile realms meant to endure, but change, transform and renew themselves . The perennial parting in the physical sense is but the rising of our phoenix. The shedding of old forms and ideas while making way for the new. The narrative ends one chapter, and begins anew. One book-- completed another to be scripted by our deepest needs and desires – both noble and profane.

Chiba Mamoru

The maniacal plot bunnies!(6)

Oh, tis a mystery, as a magical bard, me sees some strange things in my travels.

Ah, the capital is a fair place! Maidens of lyric beauty, their looping scripts, sassy Vocab, so enchanting.

If out at the editing tavern, yer find the hot act, the Dangling Modifiers play each night, and do a little Clause Stripping. Now make sure you’re old enough to visit young lads!

Ahaha! On Splicing Nights, the vowels come for free as the jugs of punctuation ale are handed around and me pops a pretty lil giggling theme upon my lap and we sing lil proofing ditties as the barman chases out the underage Alphabet Kids.

The locals are a friendly bunch, but the Capitals and the Tenses are a bit scary, especially when it comes to a turf war. The Consonant War Lords and the Cyber Bards must respect their respective sides of the Page.

But no self respecting pretty young Drabble should go out too late at night lest she risk running into the Title Gangs, or the sneaky Format pickpockets.

On the hill lives ol’ Paragraph, Many a strange story told about that ol’ devil! But if yee be looking for fun, yee can-a go past the Symphony of One Shots, good fun and they perform each Saturday in the Plot Bunny Enclosure for free! =^_^=

Mind you, it is a good time to chat up all those pretty Ficlets. But the Genres are notorious for their Coffee Pirating!

So, come to our wonderful world of adventure, but you BETA take care, for it is not a place for the faint of print and bring your Spell Book, for magic will see you write! Hahaha!

King Fanfic and Queen Original on behalf of our Library welcome all who visit and pay homage at the Temple of WISE! *winks and sips hazelnut coffee*

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