Stone, by Suzana Wylie



Poised on knife of cliff, attending onslaughts numbered four. Slow, inexorable, the number four. Against one perhaps—but no. The flickering things lie, touching, vowing, striking sharp, they wink and are no more. No slipping, sliding lies. That is not The Way. Stand. Solid truth, mighty. On the edge.

Below, the One calls. Come. Home this way is. Deep brothers, you. Sheltered from the freeze.
Yonder, the Two whispers. Join us, we are you. Moving in the salts.
Around, the Three screams. Feel me swirl, the motes of you. Lifted to the storm.
Within, the Four sings. Know I hold you. Talons twist you. Crumbled into dust.

From him, The Way roars and defies them all. Stone beast spreads its wings and springs into the nothing.

Gravity. Sea. Wind. Time. Stone beast, dying, falls.

About suzanawylie

Suzana Wylie is the not-very-pseudo pseudonym of Susan Wylie Wilson, because let's face it, there are lots of Susan Wilsons around, and as an author, I want readers to find ME and not the bazillions of others. I've been writing all my life - since I learned to hold a pencil anyway - and can't NOT write. Other people have to breathe to live; I have to write.
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3 Responses to Stone, by Suzana Wylie

  1. erinsromance says:

    Oh, Susan, this piece has brought me to my knees. The stone beast, at the end of days. This is a brilliant prose-poem, its language as well crafted as that of any master artist. I hope you will not mind my posting it on my wall and later, on my own private blog.

    I weep for the end of the beast, even as the four essential elements live into eternity.

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