Beneath infertile fields,
where the breath seeping
beyond view would suffocate
the life of mans impoverished
wondering.
Curiosity was a misconception
what was submerged was
not as above. For eggs lay dormant
feeding on the impoverished fumes.
Like lullabies grazing upon it
slumbering.
But local folk were wiser upon the
land, greeting the field from afar.
For what was legend was fact instead.
When the earth did breath with rumbling
discontent they knew the land was ready
to birth new life from fields of purgatory.
Majestic wings flew from afar,
and villagers gazed at
this beauty of imagining, as bones
scatted like seed over a field of infertile
hallucinations.
But where some dreams die, one awakens.
As the earth heaves like a womb being
awoken by birth, so seeps the blood of
the earth, alight in a concussion of vivid
hues of fire and life,
graced by eyes afar.
Flame danced around this new birth,
as it inhaled the flame, expelling
a fountain of new born breath.
And the villagers cheered, the new born
looked, but the mother knew that there was
nothing to fear for this place was safe.
A tradition of old, letting those who dare
wonder, treasure hunters, armies had tried
to collect the bounty of this land, for with
birth comes riches from deep in the earth.
But the villagers had the wealth of
seeing this every few hundred years.
But the dragon always paid its debt,
as wings of frail flight learned the
dynamics of wind and wings.
A hand gestured to the well, and falling
a bountiful harvest of gem stones.
like a rainbow finding its place of birth,
so many filled the sky with there descent.
And then as before and times long ago.
with eyes adjusted to not gaze on the
field, a mother does neatly once again
hide her worth beneath the earth.
So long from now a new child will
see the happiness of a mother on infertile earth.
