#jadedragon
Wǔxíng Category: Earth (土)
3-xx
Thirteen limestone spires anchor the shifting sky,
Ancient dragon ribs of Jade Mountain turned to stone.
The Blue Moon basin holds the weight of the heights,
Where minerals settle in a thick, turquoise silt.
The scholar’s stride is heavy, deliberate, and low,
Tracing the cold veins of the planet’s granite skin,
While the silent companion follows a scent older than kings,
Leaving steady prints in the dust of a dying glacier.
Within the marrow of the rock, the pale dragon sleeps,
Watching the ancient passes through moss-colored eyes.
The traveler finds his refuge in the density of the peaks,
A Longmen spirit carved from the silence of the high pass.
He is the unyielding jade that refuses to bend or bow,
The steady center where the five kingdoms find their balance.
Beneath the white drift, his heart beats with the soil,
A foundation of peace that stretches ten thousand miles,
Rooted in the Way where the labels of men fall away.
She, in the shape of a fox, is a shadow against the cliff,
Finding the sheltered ledge where the wind cannot reach.
For peace is not found in flight, but in the sinking down,
The strength to be the stone that the river must flow around.
The clear lakes are heavy with the bones of the range,
Reflecting a landscape that refuses to change its face.
The thaw of spring is but a surface stir of the crust,
But the foundation of this valley remains perfectly still.
The fox curls tight against the scholar’s steady side,
Seeking the warmth of the jade within the hallowed dark.
In the depth of sleep, a phantom shimmer stirs her form,
A soft, pearlescent flicker beneath the silver fur.
The single brush-tail grows into three, then seven,
Growing to nine before retreating back to the safety of one.
As the dragon’s hidden heart dreams of the zenith,
Resting its strength against the bedrock of the world.
A soft whimpering breaks the stillness of the night,
As the shadow-fox drifts through the jagged edges of a dream.
The scholar, deep in the mountain’s sleep, feels the change,
His own spirit sensing the tremor of her restless Qì.
Without waking, his hand finds the curve of her brow,
An instinctive grace answering the dragon beneath her fur.
A gentle scratch, a slow rub to anchor her spirit,
As the earth rises up to meet the flickering flame.
Here in the basin, the dragon and the fox become one,
Two pulses slowing to match the heartbeat of the ground.
He knows the weight of the scales beneath her silver mask,
Just as she feels the hum of the dragon’s Qì beneath his skin.
A resonant warmth, the internal flame of the unyielding jade,
Seeking the shivering light of the pearl to make it whole.
They keep the secret of the sky while walking the dirt,
A silent pact of kings disguised as a man and his pet,
Where the scholar is finally, and forever, at home.
刘嘉文
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Apr 10
Apr 10, 2026 at 9:30 AM UTC