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THE LEGEND OF THE BRASS SWAN
by Bill Childers

I have never thought of myself as much of a "story teller", yet I believe that this is a rudiment of a living human being... to tell stories that, while not leaving the listener or reader breathless, might nevertheless instill a sense of wonderment, a sense of wanting for more.  Thus, some years ago after I had written many things about life, war, loving, living, faith, God, Christ, friends and family, whom I love with all my being... I had not attempted a "make-believe".  I just didn't know how or where to begin.

One day, I found a really "neat" thing in a store that sold ornaments, ric-racs and novelty items to have around the house... for conversation, if nothing else.  The "neat thing" was a small container, which if done right, might be a nice small flower or plant container, but I saw something else... a story.

The title of the story came with the container, which was made of brass with a figure of a swan on each side, thus "The Legend of the Brass Swan".  And so, the next thing I'd like to share is a story, in rhyme of course, of the two swans who fell in love and were never to be separated "for eternity".  I hope it means even a smidgen to you of what it does to me.  I trust that it will especially mystify or entice you into a little dreaming, at least a sense of romance, or hope that there is still a little make believe and wonderment in life for those who haven't ceased thinking beyond what we so often call "reality".

 

The Legend of the Brass Swan


There was a swan, so beautiful and bright.
He swam about his domain majestic and white.
He was much admired by all that viewed his daily swim.
Of course all heads turned, just to see HIM!

He doled out his affection, and wooed one... or two.
If one got serious, he quickly to his lair flew.
He wanted no part of being "attached", then maybe a child,
No more than being admired, than being a "mite wild".

Until that fatal day when SHE came gliding into view...
Of a sudden, there was nothing he could seem to do.
There was only HER, more splendid than any he had seen...
Knowing he was King, only she could be his Queen!

There was obviously something happening as he gazed about,
None looked his way, nor did they line his daily route.
All seemed to focus their interest upon the beautiful sight
That captured him in a silent, shattering, shaking blight!

He no longer cared what thought this one, that or another.
As a matter of fact, he couldn't care one way or the other!
He floundered, he stumbled, he was not himself as before,
Not believing he had found "someone else" to adore!

As all this strange behavior grew increasingly obvious,
His new "Queen" swam on, seemingly totally oblivious.
He felt he must regain control, recapture his superior stance.
He had reigned long, absolute... he could take no chance.

Yet, even as he considered the right move, he could not think.
As she seemed to pass him by, he swore he saw her blink.
Could it be possible that she was not as cold as she seemed?
Could she see herself to be his Queen as he had dreamed?

He collected his dignity, at least the pieces he could find.
He smoothed his feathers, cleared his head, his mind.
He must sail along-side as if nothing unusual had occurred,
Keep his "cool", her never knowing feelings stirred!

Approaching her side, he saw her feathers begin to shake.
Be wondered what measures he possibly could take.
He gathered thoughts, words, mulled them over and over,
He longed beyond doubt to be more than a lover!

With his first words, "I am King here", he knew his mistake.
f only he could recall them, another entrance to make!
But, miracles of miracles, he couldn't believe what he saw...
It was if he had not said a word, as if he had no flaw.

She swam on, head held high, her neck graceful, majestic...
Her eyes turned to him, she blinked them subtle, classic.
He knew then all was not lost, there remained a slim chance,
He could win her... she would be his "forever romance".

Thus, as he planned his next subtle, yet confident approach,
He glanced all around, lest another think to encroach.
Seeing none that would dare to attempt such a daring feat,
He moved to her side to make his life complete!

He became one-with-her, merging in harmony and stride,
Sweeping along on an ecstatic, rapturous, delightful ride.
She turned, noting his presence, cast down her eyes,
Completing awareness that he had reached his paradise.

Even as he reveled in his new-found, delightful bliss,
His senses revealed to him something was surely amiss.
Yet, how could this be?  Was she not most assuredly his?
Did he not know all there was to know about this?

He and his Queen were flowing smoothly side by side,
What more could there be than joy-riding on life's tide?
The truth came swiftly then, he had been far too blind to see.
He had been caught in the throes of love, now true agony.

They could not go on forever, the tide of life would ebb away.
They would grow old, their bodies slowly sinking in decay.
"Twould have been best, perhaps to have gone on as before,
Never seeing this loveliness, known there was more!

What could he do, was there a way to have her forever?
Could there possibly be a bond that time could not sever?
The thought of not being eternally, forever only hers...
He thought of nothing that could in any way be worse!

He glanced at his Queen, to find if she, too knew.
Yet he found in her eyes assurance of love, strong and true,
Saying "Fret not my love, time is no threat to you and me.
We shall be one, gliding together through all eternity!"

Could she have known that on a grassy shore nearby,
A mortal, glimpsing their bond of love, sensed the cry.
Filled by their beauty as one, knowing this should always be,
He fashioned them as "one", that all the world might see.

As his hands shaped, fashioned, they turned and looked his way,
Expressing a gratitude beyond anything they might say.
Having an awareness of their feelings, his hands began to fly,
Lest their grandeur slip his mind, quietly as a lost sigh.

As he fashioned the clay, pressing. molding the majestic form,
He knew the creation must be strong, lasting yet warm.
He knew also the warmth would not come from the material used,
But from hearts within, a perpetual love as yet unabused.

As master hands twisted, then caressed, smoothed and cast,
Classic lines and forms emerged, beauty conceived to last.
Regal images, sculptured in perfection, boundless flame...
Sought ageless status, imperishable beyond life's game!

Such love he had rarely seen, had never hoped to capture,
Could he enfold what he saw, instill such rapture?
He knew that brass would be the  substance he would use,
Through its coldness, their love would be difficult to fuse.

But, of a sudden, as the artist glimpsed them gliding free,
He had no doubt their journey was surely meant to be.
He had but to let his hands and heart labor as one...
The glow of their deep love had long since been done.

The glorious wake left as the swan passed from his sight,
Stirred the final surge for his hands to make things right.
Their wing tips rose and touched, as if to express a word,
Never realizing the symphonic grandeur they had stirred!

The King and his Queen, at one with artist and clay...
They would travel from him trails of opposite way.
But, throngs would forever see their wings touch in love,
Hear tales eternally of the symphonic bond they wove...


Thus, the story that began as it ended, and ended as it began...  To LOVE, all that it is, and to all the unbelievable worlds it creates with just the beat of a heart, the blink of an eye, the touch of a thought... the miracle of a dream... and the dream... of a miracle.
 

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