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Fiction of Painters and Poets

by FhaBlo

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Ruairí
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Francesca
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YUNG LEMSIP
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1.
Song of a Robin 03:18
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2.
Shallow Seas 04:20
lyrics
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There’s a painter on those hills To show us all the colours that we cannot see She paints the meadows as we sleep And fills our dreams with imagery that makes us sing When I was young I knew a man Who went to see her cast her paint across the sky When he returned he seemed the same But in his eyes the light, once bright, had dimmed to grey A woman who lives close to me Prayed into the soil one night to save her child She’d realised her life would end But wanted to be sure her son was always safe now, Perhaps another deity Could have given her the safety she’d naively seek But the hand that grips the soil could not So he forced her hand and ended both their lives that night Our lives are born to shallow seas To dream of where the oceans and the sky can meet Chasing down an endless flame Giving it a value we can’t comprehend Failing at our primal tasks Distracting us with visions of coloured a land We are the creatures of the ground An echo of the Gods to whom we’re always bound Our myth was born amidst decay Those empty halls birthed another age The hills grew tall into the sea I watched those gods, drift away from me A saviour rose amongst the dirt A fire burned we had long forgot When the birds came to feed The nature of our dignity was clear to see
3.
Salmon Leap 02:57
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4.
Common Thatch 04:29
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5.
Salmon 05:09
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about

As the still clouded night drew to the sunless hours of morning a cold breeze picked up from a woodland in a valley far south. This breeze cut like a blade across the hills and mountains followed close behind by the cold light of a late autumn sun, carrying with it the smell of pine and the touch of mountain snow. This breeze grew in speed through the hills and fields from wind to gale, its path preceded by a procession of crows fleeing from its grasp.

The wind flew down into a bowl like valley town with a howl like that of a hell hound bearing down on its prey, ripping limbs from trees and flesh from houses. The wind burst through the window of a small one room cabin on the edge of civilisation, sending papers flying about the room, speckling the floor with flakes of snow.

“Darn Wind!” yelled a voice from inside the heavy hide of a once great beast, reduced to furniture. Picking up a hammer and a couple of rusted nails from a bucket by the door he closed the shutters and fixed them to their frame.

The man let out a sigh and began to stack the pages back on his desk taking great effort to make sure they were in the correct order. He had travelled far to get here, left all he had behind to find safety, that which he thought he had, but he had made a mistake.

He had let the wind inside.

The warm ash in the hearth from a fire left burning overnight began to tumble and spew onto the floor, this void of soot grew to the shape of a man who stepped forward into the room with seemingly no presence.

The man stacking papers stopped and gripped his chest, every hair on his body standing on edge,

“God no”, he uttered in a fearful tone, “I never should have stopped”.

The creature of ash began to burn; amber, then red, then white. Heat radiated from it like that of a summer sun. Time began to stutter causing this instant to last for minutes, hours, days, even years as all colour slowly drained from the world sinking to a rain-cloud grey then a deathly white which flickered and settled to an unholy darkness of primordial origin.

When this instant was over the ash had returned to the hearth and where the man once stood there was simply a small, coin sized, blue gem resting on the floor, a faint light emanating from within as if it were miles away in the darkness of night.

Looking into the gem caused the illusion that you were instead looking out at everything else from within.

credits

released April 20, 2020

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FhaBlo Cork, Ireland

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