Part two Bedtime Story Island

Part two:

Scrappy, scudded Davy

Was sunking in the sand

That had been beckoning

 From the reef

 Seen from Quintessence eye

He is sleeping and dreaming

When, awake by a golden moon

Which shot a  ray

 And sounded on a shell

Further up the shore

He weaved on wobbling knees

Under the pebbling shell

Giving way, sucked

Violated Davy down

Then, sliding a massive mirror

He glared on sharks and mermaids

On the emerald lined fishing lane

Blurred by salt

Deeper between the rushing squad of fish

An artist etching

Pencil lines of

Recognizing faces:

A parent, grandparent, great grandparent

Ever more; racing upward, shooting down

Mesmerized the sunken sailor

Save the mumbling liquid

 And moaning of souls

Of Silent songs of yester generations

 swilled the avenues of

Davy’s mind.

Reflection of his genetic code

Beaming

As his father’s smile

When that saint of the unlocked

Deeper

Spoke his bed-time story

Of a Mirrored Isle.

Formless whispering

Bubbling from gaping mouths

Davy leaned closer to hear:

Thomas, 95 when I heaved

John a blacksmith from Coddlington

Only 37

Mary a weaver

 in the court of King Arthur

Winnowed at 33

Steven, courtier to Juluis and slayed by Christians

Man, lives in a cave

 And hunts the dinosaur

Killed at 21 .

The river of blood stretched far

And here there were no gales, mistrals

Roaring nineties

There is no moving

No confusing

Only clarity.

No diamond or desire

No wisdom, no information

A jolly life for the searching sailor

Had been searched and purged

Now free to sail the Quintessence.

On the ribbon of blood.

Looking upward to a sky

And shooting moon

Staring back at his own

Reflection

Staring him in the eye!