Figurehead

In the beginning was speed and the pure joy of the wind beneath my wings.

I reacquainted myself smoothly with how to ride a powerful bike, feeling each acceleration in my bones, my legs instinctively tightening around the rider, while still seeking the best position for my arms.

I anchored my claws on my mount, a solid and unwavering embrace, my serpentine tail coiled in its usual place, secret kundalini in the belly of The-Figurehead. I stretched my neck to the zenith and yelped the sheer pleasure of the race.

The intense, animal joy of speed overcame me. I closed my arms around the man in front of me, letting myself be carried on the asphalt river, into the eternal moment of sensuality and the warm embrace of trust. My whole body tense for the race, I breathed the warm smell of the fields. Far left, a fox stopped caught my eye and was left behind, distanced by the roaring symphony of the engine. I felt my femininity vibrating in rhythm with the accelerator and barely held back an animal cry by my silent lips.

I opened my wings wide and the wind lifted me at once. I hovered a while above The-Figurehead. Planing lazily in the sun, I carelessly plucked a few leaves  from the canopy. I felt the surprise of The-Figurehead ‘You are a veggie?’ Amused, I dived into the forest.

I felt her frolic in the vegetal ocean, playing with the wind and bathing in hot sun. I smelt with delight the scents of damp undergrowth, moss and mushrooms, received the brief downpour with a smile and finally discovered the medieval heart of the village. As always the sight of centuries old houses sent images of those who lived, loved and died there spinning in my head. The river, eternal impermanence, laid her languid canals, ponds and waterfalls, deserted in this late summer peppered with rain. I was looking for the wyvern but she concealed her presence well, artful magician that she was. Only when I was alone did she finally reveal herself, blissful creature, triple whimsical, emerging from deep water without a wrinkle. Her golden green body melted into the bronze vase and algae background, reflections of her inner fire mixed in the glow of the setting sun. Her wings reduced to thin fins, she was betrayed only by her ice-blue eyes. I admired the abandonment of her wild nature, the magic that welled from her presence, observed her movements and how fluidly she played with water and wind.

I was dazed by her rugged, powerful beauty. It was the first time I could really see her and she looked amazing. I averted my eyes just a moment from the fabulous display and she took the opportunity to slip away. In my head a question stayed: ‘What is your name?’

I am you, once, water,
I am you, twice, air
I am you, thrice, fire
Blissful trine beast, Beatrice…

As I rode away from the village, I saw, nestled in the dale, the tip of an old steeple. Around was winding, tail of serpent, and above beating, wings of wind, the blissful fiery beast, the melusine.


Written at Moret-sur-Loing… my muse was a Ducati 800cc

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