The Village On the Water Vi

But we of the Three Tribes live undiscovered In the reverberating stillness of the Three Gorges... And are therefore unknown to the warring mongol; His impassioned lusts -- his penchant for Wanton destruction! If he comes, let him pass us by To continue his eastward migration in pursuit Of more enduring conquests:- Whipped-up dust, from flying hooves of Their angry horses, Forming in billowing red clouds to scatter Into the inconceivable, gushing extremities Of endless plains; As we peasants, too, are sparsely scattered As blown dandelion seed throughout The flower-strewn glades Of these heaving, tremulous hills; Although, he has no interest in poor fishermen... Such as we are... Nor neither their poor fish. He would just want to lay waste to our Walled cities... And, collapsing our regal towers, Carrying nothing before him... Crumble our empire into nought but rubble; The Proud flags and banners of gold, orange, Vermilions and rich crimsons Torn down and thrown to the ground... Trampled by many stamping hooves into the Black, clammy leaf moulds Of indifferent soils; Rare arts and precious objects smashed Into fragments to lie in pieces Upon ruined mosaics; Palaces and temples -- roofless -- derelict -- Opened to the raw winds and soaking rains:- Through which, in the early morning, Slow-wheeling rooks crowding the clearing Skies can be seen; And heard calling to one and other in Base, nasal tones; Fading, finely painted, ornate walls Then overhung and heavily laden with vines, Creepers and spreading ivies; Once delicate tapestries -- Threadbare, sodden and rotted; In desecrated jade halls -- toppled statues Of long dead kings; in darkened corridors -- A subdued moaning, That might only be the sounds of muttering Wind, Should be heard accompanied by Sporadic chimes from rusted bells; Deserted courtyards littered with high Banks of stacked leaves; And everywhere, in obvious testament to Subsequent ferocious vandalism... Very little remaining but an awful destitution. Shuddering I put all thoughts aside... Lift my feet to the comforting, Warming fire. Yellow Dragon roars amidst crashing Turbulence! Over green-slimed yellow boulders:- A curtain of cascading water, Further embellished by strengthening moonlight, Shielding his impenetrable fortress; He is a Fucanglong -- A "Dragon of Hidden Treasures". All Dragons are endowed with Heavenly Beneficence...which is why we are taught Not to fear them. The mother of Liu Bang, in her avid fecundity, Dreamt of a Dragon... And thusly conceived of him...and in that Conceiving -- Spawned a Dynasty! In Brookside Village, stone pontoons Retreat further back from a swarming Waterline; King Ba palace -- relinquishes -- Slumps backwards onto its brooding Mountain top; As dappling Autumn sunlight so permeates To layer upon the interior of all leafy Woodlands -- So dappling Moonlight now layers upon the Jumbled passageways of tightly crammed, Interconnecting houses:- Winding steps, which, in brazen daylight, Leap upwards, Strangely immobile and unnervingly devoid; Rail and wall, supporting stepped roofs, Cling even more tightly to the fierce Mountainside. Then...swirling wind subsides. Abates. Chooses to seek shelter within densely Populated banana trees. Outlined in silver trim, against the Enormity of this swelling moon, Turned towards the stars, Towering Stone-Tablet inflates -- And Expands! Absolute. Defiant. Rooted. Steadfast; Determines to remain invincible. Prepares to refute those evil demons Who inhabit the long shadows of the prowling Night.