• Andreas Kornevall

Goldwinde Prose Poem

Updated: Aug 18



I had a dream.


The bright sun was a Sun-King Serpent and the stars the scales on its back. His vertebrae were the constellations, from his vigour of fire and from his own will power, the Sun-King Serpent had taken domini


on of the known worlds.


All hearts sung self-ser


ving prayers to save only themselves. People lived for their desires, then flames started to burn in all directions, casting the world into an ocean of ash.


Desperate souls gathered around to look and admire the Sun-King Serpent’s crown which contained a fearful vision of what will come to pass.



The brows of men and women shone dull and grey by the Sun-King Serpent’s light. When doom fell upon them, some tried to fight, but most only wept.


Whilst the cries of famine were heard. The serpent Sun-King gorged himself in the ashen shadows of the world.



When people died, bones were gathered into dark tombs, unnamed and forgotten.


The rule of the Sun-King Serpent had made the world lifeless, silent, and without season. For mankind there was only desolation, in ruin the world lay.


All obeyed the Sun-King Serpent.


All.


Save one.


Her name was Goldwinde.



The crowd beheld her when she stood defiant, they beheld her when she refused to bend her knee in submission to the power of the Sun-King Serpent.


She was the ancient witch who had burnt thrice on the stake to come back to life from the flames again, the ancient witch who had once made truce between the Gods of the Sky and the Gods of Nature.


The people gazed upon her uncontaminated beauty. She was naked as the waves in the sea. Her only garment was the girdle of emotion, lined with the dream of harvest and birth upon her sure-hipped waist, she was alive with feeling, a bright pulse of sentience. Her eyes were cornflowers, and her hair flowed and oscillated in the hot winds of the cold hearted world.


Palpitating in the ashes, the gathering crowd groped at her with ravenous, hungry and searching hands, to grasp, to hold, and to consume.


She began to chant from an age old verse, from a discovered reservoir of thought.


Her song was heard once upon a life, once upon a moment, and once upon a time.


Expectation was roused within the rivers, seas and lakes, all life responded to her melodic incantation; the moon was in her command, her magic entered into the silent depths of soul.


Darkness was transformed into the mother of light as she weaved the thread of fate.


Pierced by the Sun King Serpent’s eyes, she endured, she responded with words of freedom, of chains breaking, of waters cascading, and she revealed his violations.


The Sun-King Serpent coiled in his galactic frame.


Bravery wrapped around her, she vanquished the spell of the devoured world, the crown of the Sun-King Serpent fell.


Under the full moon glare, he was only a snake in her hands.


Fear was subdued.


A faint light grew.






@Andreas Kornevall


(artwork from the words of the poem through midjournal)

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