PROSE/POETRY

“Remaining childish is a tremendous state of innocence.” - John Lydon

Poets and Storytellers United has prompted us this week to write a piece that is poetry in prose, or vice-versa. Here is my offering.

The morning sun shone brilliantly and his warm rays caressed the earth with the love that has been forever.  The dew-drenched land and the lambent cool sea vied for his affections, each one wanting to ensnare the sunshine, outwitting the other in the sharing.  The frothy wave crests caught the sunlight and broke it into a myriad cascading fragments, which in their turn crashed upon the strand creating long tongues of serpentine agility, licking the sand smooth before returning whence they came.  Mirroring the sky, the ultramarine depths of the sea seemed indifferent, unusually calm and still, as though unaware of the goings-on near the shore.

Amidst the rainbow clumps of coral and the verdant meadows of the depths there was a Child.  A dark-haired, honey-skinned, bright-eyed imp of a Child whose laughter reminded one of crystal bells.  It lived there and spent its time playing with the giant shells, the multi-hued fish of the deep; catching the stray sunbeams that escaped from the tight embrace of the sea surface and plaiting them into translucent chaplets of light and hope.  Thus did the Child of Light live amongst the fish, the shells, the lush underwater gardens.

For many years it was content, living amongst its childhood companions, enjoying the friendship of a little crimson starfish, its constant playmate.  The Child was happy in its simple life, rejoicing in its ignorance, its needs all seemingly fulfilled.  And yet one day, the laughter stopped and innocence lost the game to knowledge.  The Child was growing and as it began to become aware of the world surrounding it. In this new-found knowledge it discovered that something was lacking from its life.  It did not know exactly what, but still its childhood companions, the games and playmates abruptly grew tiresome and inadequate for its new needs.

Happiness gave way to melancholy, light-heartedness to moroseness, and gaiety to long periods of reflection.  Slowly the Child perceived itself to change and the Child of Light became the Child of Darkness.  Gone were the days of sunshine, rainbow colours and coralline remembrances.  Instead came nights of sleeplessness and phosphorescent imaginings, of desperate evasions from the woeful, sinuous enticements of the anemones, all observed with wicked amusement by the baleful eyes of the medusae…