Quackery
Fiction, Poetry

The Secret

Beyond the reach of stars, beyond gravity and accepted laws of time; across the known cosmos and guided by the light of rainbows arching different worlds; the satyr sulked and leaped into the flame.

“The secret is protected.”

“The satyr knew, and is no more.”

“Why have you come?”

“The door beckons and begs me into being. I have looked into its eyes and heard it speak.”

“Machine men, zipping round, seductive, pulling millions and millions of Mah‘dor‘mon**…. They never rest nor never sleep, they search the Earth, go round and round. They will find you, my dearest, my darling dear, they will find my love and you will die.”

“How is that to be? I am older than the hill and longer than the tree of legend-length; older than the moon, more seasoned than the suns; my time is squared, though gained for loss; I fell before, I rose again, by righteous will I die no more.”

“Surrender. These creatures do not belong. We will not fight them. We must trust the bridge. We will not fight. We will not force. We are true. We are real. The great mystery is our strength. Cast your light into the door, the door will move. Your energy is in your light.”

“I will bend the cosmos. Press my light into the fabric and roll the galaxy into my palm and fly beyond the sun.”

The door, opening, revealed in truth: “Because it they, who never speak, though in their thoughts do dwell, they never, nor for nary ought, best to their thoughts do tell. And though through those, thrice they therewith, my quaking heart can’t quell, my mind for naught but wicked words, in propense-ed pain do spell.”

That is the secret of the stars.

**A type of canned stew

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About Quackzalcoatl

Phoneticist, Palindrologist, and freelance Sharknadologist. Inventor. Ruler of 2-acre lakes and small streams.

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