Bittersweet Servitude

Swirling, dancing, pursued by the wind,
Riding the river, blown o’er the trees,
Thin as the starlight, and dense as the night,
Shifting forms of beauty and fright,
Ghostly mirages creating illusions,
Forming images of beings existing,
In men’s fearful fancy, though not of creation,
Or seeming to some to be fair wondrous creatures;
Hovering close, yet ever so far,
As to never be reached –
In an instant they’re vanished,
One second appear, for a moment stand silent,
Then heeding the whisper of the silky night breeze,
Living shadows, formed of mists,
Move onward to play their haunting dance,
Shift with a sigh of little regret, to return not again.

Wand’ring the windswept courtyards of heaven,
Conversing voicelessly with the Maiden of Moonlight,
Enslaved to their freedom to fly o’er the earth,
The fleet of the mighty Rain-giver, the clouds,
Proud servants of the Sun,
Look down from the sea which they alone sail,
And see their dark, earth-bound young brothers
|The Children of Mist – 
Obeying every wish of their master: the Windlord,
Ensnaring, enchanting, both beauty and dread;

They remember the life they each used to know,
Long to be freed from their task;
Yearn to play with the trees, and to ride with the river,
To waltz with the flowers and empearl them with dew;
And for the memory, shed many a-tear of regret,
Wishing to be again free without care,
Free from the Sun’s service to do as they would.

 Inconsolable, unshamedly weeping,
Never ceasing the while to be true to their duty,
For a long hour the clouds shed sad tears,
Renewing the life of the flowers they loved,
Filling the river upon which they had danced,
Quenching the thirst of unnumbered trees,
Watering the world which they knew so well.

When a new day dawns, the Sun-lord’s great eye
Looks over the oceans, the fields and the forests,
And slowly beckons to the still-swirling mist.
They eagerly race towards invisible stars,
And all are assigned, each one, to a place,
In the service of the Sun-lord,
To guard and patrol the realm of his daughter:
The Maiden of Moonlight.

He sees all the tears left behind by the clouds,
And thinks of the ranks in his army replenished;
Then warms and gives life to each jewel of water,
Lovingly raises new children to play,
And to keep the wind company in his long evening watch.

And through the long day, while they’re led by the wind,
The clouds look down on the world they have lost,
Then think of their duty, their honorable task;
Still remain loyal, and when memories bring pain,
They weep for a while, ’till their sorrow is empty,
And the essence of mist returns – as the rain.