The

wintry woes were already appearing in the air – the coronets, once jovial and carefree, were now solemn and weary; once everyone gazed up into the heavens at the falling snow… but now they averted to the bemiring plane, forcing their eyes downward. It was this that made Tique weary, but she was obstinate – she wouldn’t let life be spoiled by a few terse words and the eroding of tempers. Live, and let die. She looked at the object of her thoughts; the sparrow laying one eh ground. It had frozen to death, by the cruelty of its own kind (time wounds all heels). But the bird was an excellent reminder, of everything. The contoured carapace plummeted, allowing the implement to nudge snow on the petite avis. And then, as the circlet transcended higher into the context, she began to amble away – shifting each garnet with a heavy footfall, as though she was finally carrying the weight of the world. Dear reader, I assure you Tique had not yet succumbed to the misery of the world – but she was maturing, bit-by-bit. The lucid diagnostics returned to the lump in the snow, but she turned away, and looked upward – up into the eyes of heaven, where it witnessed the events below. Surreal, some called it; the rise of day, the fall of night. But it also held wisdom, or perhaps the inspiration for knowledge. Whichever, Tique stared it hard in the face, and then her façade, once solemn, returned to its bright and optimistic outlook – she was alive, the world was alive, and the hawks still walked on, sauntering towards a destination of greatness. The correspondents arose out of the macramé mesh, the lucid diagnostics blinked away intangible tears, and she was ready, once again to take on the world.

And

here she was, carrying Claustrophobic’s child! She had to think optimistically, for if she could not be optimistic, than she didn’t deserve the rank she carried. There she goes, the fulcrums shifting about though the incline was of a high gradient; she wanted again to be among friends and companions. You don’t always get what you want, but sometimes…if you asked just right, you could get what you need. And though she had few allies, she had already gained quite a few acquaintances: Issues, the solemn soldier, Wizard, the fighting mage, Breeze and Onuris: the grand trio. And Claustrophobic: father of her first child. She was already growing round at the middle; but was she getting enough nutrition for the unborn scion? Winter was a time of little verdure. But she would manage – she always did, always would. She had to – two lives balanced on the frail shoulders. She had been drifting off again- and this time, a bitter reminder came: her cannons fell into the snow, the scaffolding pushed against the glacial soil. She just stood there, heaving in biosphere as intangible tears rolled down her cheeks. Not for her, but for the child – had she injured it in the fall? It would be all her fault; and the child would have to live with the consequences. Her own choices affected it directly. She slid up, quivering slightly to rid herself of the diamond dust. Is the world always so bitter? Nay, she had experienced good too; and that was the direction she must take. Ease off your feet a bit, she chided herself, you’re going to have be a little more careful. She walked heading for the invisible axis, not limping, the only testimony of her fall remaining was the sprinkling of snow that had fallen on her.

But

though slightly uncomfortable, think of those on trial –what ever happened to ‘innocent until proven guilty?’ She smiled then, for she was just out of the frying pan herself. The majority, or at least those who were judged worthy by the higher ups – would make the grade; but none the less most would be nervous. She was, and she was already accepted! In the words of a great man: “out of the frying pan and into the fire.” And who were those on trial. A pang of embarrassment struck her; she hadn’t made herself known to them. They needed to converse with hawks; they needed to learn of what they were getting themselves into, and the sooner…the better. So what if she was just a brood? She was happy; she was a mother, and had an opportunity to atone her misdeeds. But she wanted to be an asset to the hawks, she wanted to make them proud – of Tique, the candid seraph. She had already made a silent vow to help them – the Meadow was a magnificent nation, and the way the citizens acted towards each other! They appreciated one another, and the fear of ranks was virtually non-existent. They all seemed so happy with each other, and all fought for the glory of the Hawk; not for one being, but in a way they were. They were all one hawk, or at least in spirit. Babbling again, dear reader! My apologies. Returning to the issue of the newcomers: she wanted to get to know them. Yes, the arising sophist had much to learn about the current members, but wasn’t the preponderance going to be, anyway? She smiled, and approached, and tried her best to look welcoming; it was rather hard. So she respired, and then the lucid diagnostics browsed the verdant expanse of plane for anyone, at all. Newcomer or fully fledged hawk alike.

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t i q u e
universal fog - - »

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cherished by none
another meadow brood
tethered to the meadow
the fallen muse
wingless bird

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walking around it's clear
i'm worlds away
thinking with only half my mind
found myself wanting
to be sleeping
to be dreaming
to be worlds away
slip into bed the sheets are
cold and smooth
my tension melts to a quiet warm
find myself wanting
to be sleeping
to be dreaming
to be worlds away
i wanna be worlds away
apart from the day to day
i know i'll be okay
when I get worlds away
worlds away!
worlds away!
slipping away to somewhere
in my heart
to a world where no one's ever been before
that's when I find myself
not quite sleeping
but still dreaming
and i'm worlds away..

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