Inside a tomb-like room in a pyramidal structure resting upon a misted mountain top, Merlin the Great Wizard is concluding a protracted process restoring him to new life in new guise to fulfil prophecy overthrowing wicked Queen Morgana-Le-Faye. Still distant in deep dream, Merlin floats in a vat of gold inside a golden sarcophagus watched over by new companions assisting him back to life: Kingfisher, Halcyon, Great Heron, Andromeda and Creosote. Discussion has ensued concerning the forgotten history of Eons Bach and its astonishing connection to ancient Egypt but as the conversation draws to an end, Creosote has a suggestion to make.
Elsewhere inside a tomb-like room beneath a pyramidal structure resting upon a hill-top careful preparation is being made for ceremony…
~ The Great Fairy Fire (213) – Whispers (Continued) ~ By ~ Dewin Nefol ~
‘Twas an hour or two before Heron was through,
Before he’d finished his soliloquy.
Whereupon Creosote said, “why don’t we see:”
“Crack the lid take a peek,”
“A quick sneak at how Merlin’s doing?”
“Still brewing I suspect,” Halcyon said,
As Heron picked up Red Penny Red, and,
Began to write in his book.
“One look to check on Merlin: still twirling,
“Still swirling inside his dream?”
To either end of one golden cask,
Two gasped in their task of lifting:
Shifting the lid of said coffin,
Stopping only to catch quick breath
In air redolent with death.
“I hope they hurry reinstating Bast.”
“Delay much longer this stench will last, and,”
“Stain the tomb taint this room, else,”
“Gloom the bloom of gild and gold: when then shall we be,”
“Encased in a space dark and cold.”
“Be careful with the lid,” Heron said,
“Tis unfathomably old.”
“And pure,” remarked Halcyon,
Who knew how gold was rolled:
“Every mould every fold pukka in my opinion.”
“At first sight,” wrote Heron,
“I’m impressed by his gild,”
“Bright colour, right tincture,”
“Pores nicely filled: still breathing still dreaming, and,”
“Still warm I note not chilled.”
~ The Great Fairy Fire (214) – Whispers (Continued) ~ By ~ Dewin Nefol ~
One maid with braid lingered still,
Polishing statues atop the stairwell.
She’d long dispensed with birch besom broom,
Had already dressed the bridal room:
Presented at its very best for Bast.
When then upon two other maids,
Arrived swiftly in procession.
Whilst one carried flowers ablaze with colour,
The other was in possession, of a key on a cushion
Cast from gold bullion fitting the topmost drawer.
Crossing the floor with dainty strides,
The phantom maid appeared to glide.
Until at rest by a chest at rest against a wall,
She climbed a stool inserted the key,
Turned the lock excitedly.
One drawer both doors of one cabinet:
An ebony case of grandiose size,
Let loose their ties sprung open wide,
All very much to the maid’s surprise.
“Bast has awoken!” She delightedly cried.