A Shadow Whose Paws Are The Nest Of A Red Bird

The midnight prince, adorned in the garments which he did so love the most, walked by the sea with his male lover. At a rest in their walk, both sitting upon a wide stone leg to leg and arm to arm, the midnight prince remarked upon the black attire of them both. We are as two vessels of ink poured together into one puddle upon a stone. Here by the new moon we are that which cannot be seen. I am as a shadow that meets a shadow. You are as a raven who perches against a black apple. We cannot be divided one from the other. The prince’s lover remarked in exchange to the prince that the two were not dressed in black. These garments you wear are grey. Upon thy legs, this cloth one may call white. The midnight prince, in his youth, had seen these things tailored, and remarked, they are black. The lover remarked, they are not black. I will work upon them with dyes. The prince, to appease his male lover, agreed to this.

Upon their meeting which followed nine days from thence, the prince’s lover presented to the prince garments which were very beautiful. The prince remarked, this truly now is as ink, as shadow, as creatures by cover of night. I am a monster which reigns so deep down through the sea’s vast evils and hideous currents that light has never once touched it. The prince’s lover embraced the prince. Now we are as a shadow that meets a shadow. The prince spoke thence of his male lover, by way of introducing him when there was such a need, here now is he who created darkness. Here now is genesis. Here now is all that has made me beautiful. Here now is one who has seen that which was not good enough, and not made himself to endure it. Here now is villainy I do love.

Who is it who doth know truly what shall become of it after its death? Who is it who doth know truly what shall become of it after it has shared its closest secret? Who is it who doth know truly what shall become of it after it has stood up where it has been taught to lie down in docility?

The protagonist may imagine riches and pleasures. The protagonist may imagine desolation and travails. The protagonist also may imagine very much or very little.

If the gate is opened by the protagonist itself, and the protagonist indeed craftily continues its hold upon the gate, the gate may be opened only a slight ways. Peradventure on the other side of the opaque gate is a fire of great fury, the protagonist may be consumed rapidly. If on the other side is sand piled up in heaps, such that it slides to fill the open gateway, the protagonist may struggle to close the gate again utterly. The materials on the other side of the opaque gate may be, in substance, chiefly, air.

Actors may dwell beyond the opaque gate or none may. The gate may be opened by another actor on the other side, if any such actors dwell thereabout with desire for the gate to open, or the gate may only open from the protagonist’s side.

The protagonist may open the opaque gate and find itself at the throat of a kingdom, where it shall encounter a thousand opaque gates (hitherto unseen) before it has seen its next new moon.

Is there a difference between a life well-lived and a life of commitment to a gleeful joke? I do not know but I am happy.

If I am before thee, I aspire to be before thee by pride. I wag my tail and shall meet thee with a lively posture. Leaping is the operation of my paw pads as I scurry out from the shadow of one gate and into the embrace of another. It is my fate and desire to be folded into a pack by any means, whether in its diet or company. There are things I am not discerning about.

Fire is a gift I hope to rob from humankind; Prometheus, watch my paws.

I am dressed in garments which are my finest and darkest.