Lunatic

Conceived within the dying embers of the great fire
His birth is coincident with the unfurling of countless angels' wings
Piercing the endless depths beyond the celestial curtain
Like an infinity of memories he can't recall.

His awakening is to mocking shafts of cold light
Piercing the canopy of leaves above him (does the forest,
His ancient friend and foe, deliberately part its arms?)
The voice of his enemy echoes in those terrible spears!

The owl cries out, cruelly taunting him with meaningless words
That freeze his heart and burn his soul;
The wind dances around him - he turns to watch it,
To catch it; but it's behind him, beside him, above him.

Who is he? What is he? Where is he? Where does he come from?
His thoughts turmoil as his mind seeks clues, finding only chaos.
He feels like a boat at the base of a waterfall (did he fall?)
The turbulence tossing him in all directions, the boat water-logged.

The fear is too much, the tension too great.
He howls with rage, resenting his condition,
Surges to his feet, flees into the night
To escape himself, to confront the evil eye.

At safety's edge he meets the malign glare of his demon.
His seraphim and cherubim are powerless to protect him,
Their radiance nothing compared to this most proud of creations;
He slumps to his knees, weary with recognition, with resignation.

He marshals his strength and prays for intercession;
Continuing even as the devil approaches, with increasing wrath;
Continuing even as he himself weakens, with vision blurring;
His last awareness is of hell-fire.

Conceived within the dying embers of the great fire,
He rests now within the kindling flames of his mother.
Her rays shine benignly upon his face beckoning his soul
To more comforting dreams, to strength and health.

For his enemy is just over the horizon.