Wednesday, September 2, 2009

The Cabin

Within a wrinkle of the fabric of time, there stands a cabin at the base of a great mountain. A lush thicket surrounds the small clearing and a river meanders past. The sweet grass of Spring's first kiss bursts forth from the freshly defrosted earth. Brightly colored blooms and vivid greens intermingle and surround this quaint abode of hand hewn logs and a tin roof. Soft rain dapples the ground, and the colors melt into one breathtaking blush. A tongue and groove plank door opens to a single great room. Along the far wall stands a stone fireplace - its gaping mouth exhaling baited breath onto the hearth that contains it. On the floor, like the door in its construction, lay a soft rug of lamb skin - as lavish in its comfort as in its size... a contradiction of luxury in an otherwise primitive dwelling. Handmade furniture, some cabinets and a wood stove occupy the opposing wall space and a hand water pump sits on a counter top located near the ground cellar door, rounding out the amenities of this deep country Shangra-la.
 
From within, the sound of the rain is a clandestine performance for an audience of two ... fine jazz ... smooth, sultry. The fire snaps and crackles a ravenous path through tinder dry birch. Lost souls are they ... brought together from hunger so great, the threat of total consumption wafts through the smoke scented air. Tangled in each other, their lips connect and each essence bleeds into one. Passion grows within and without, rising and falling with the flicker of the fire - all at once indiscernible from the flames themselves. His body and hers, joining for the first time. Electrified bare wire, gingerly avoiding the explosive shower of sparks that looms ever near. Deeper into the glorious luxury of her, he pushes ... offering himself, a sacrifice to his goddess - if only in this moment. She answers with total submission - now as master, he reaches her primordial core - taking her to sweat laden fervor. Harder and deeper than either has known with another ... blinding heat rips through her, flooding her senses... searing fingers of molten passion coursing into him ... until irrevocably, they collapse into one another - spent of the desire that drew both to this place.

As the fire feeds down to embers, each seems to glow in the other's gaze. Their love silently stated for none to hear - a fleeting wisp of fog , vanishing in the righteousness of the sun's rays. They will leave this place, never to speak of their passion. The images burned into each soul - cryptic paintings on ancient cave walls bear lone testament to this union.

Leaving the way they came, neither looks back for fear of lost resolve ...

At the base of a great mountain, surrounded by a lush thicket - a cabin stands ... a solitary witness to a birth, a death, and a life lived in between - no matter how brief. An effigy to their love, existing for no one to know - never to be disturbed by the conventions of mankind.

2 comments:

Spender said...

Wow. It's always a pleasure to find a writer who's style I genuinely admire. Very, very well written.
I'm glad that Eyvi introduced us and I look forward to reading more.

Danica Dragonfly said...

Wow, Spender ... coming from you that is an enormous compliment! Thank you.

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