Mistica Chronicles

Welcome to Issue 73

Apache Winning Entry

On earth's edge she perches,
The precarious observer,
To hear and see and breathe the way the wild wind howls.

Above, the grey circles,
Roaring and rumbling and growing heavy
With great fat drops of rain
That fall sparsely into the sea:
An omen of inevitable chaos.

Scattered birds flinch as lightning flickers,
Silent to her ears;
She ponders the idea of localized reality
For to her this scene is one of incredible peace,
But what is it to the birds?

So it is there she sits, on the cliff-side,
An observer,
A great watcher of the unfolding of time,
Waiting for the clouds and the sea and the wind to align for the purpose of disorderliness and disaster.

Let them wage war against the cliff, she thinks,
For she herself is like the rock,
unyielding yet temporal.