Indominable Dragonfly

By Miles A Moody

Am I a crawling thing, a cunning being at the mercy of my appetites, these selfish needs of an organism bent on survival? Is the only power I can see in me that of the movement of my limbs in propelling me from lack to that which I must possess in order to continue? Is my existence merely that of destroying the life around me so that I can perpetuate this, the entitled consumption of all that isn’t me? Is my life so minutely defined, so tragically limited in such an ordered preparation and for what….more of the same?

I am not that creature, that relentless inching thing, bound to the earth and skulking along the margins of a material existence; I am more….but what? The forward mobility that answered my needs for food, for shelter, for safety in a host of what I thought I was – it is taking me higher now. It is not in quest of food nor the search for an expanded vision to lend me power over all I would consume that motivates my crawl to such heights; it is something altogether different. Waiting, to now receive me into its intention, enfolding me, it endows me with a palpable security to find the patience to generate the change in me. I abide here in this formidable sanctum until it is the only home I will accept. I am cocooned; I am the chrysalis, satisfied to no longer be what I was. Quietly I rest within me through the passage of time. Have I arrived at last?

A tension rises in me like the tsunami, the pause departs me in the drawing of a dragon’s breath; I feel the rumble of destruction gnawing at the hinges of my door. I check the locks – they are many – and peer through the peep hole with hesitant eyes. They have come for me – a multitude of pitchfork welding torching bearing creatures of earth all shouting out my name. Wagging fingers pierce the sputtering light to strum shaming cords. Am I rejected? Is there no hope for me? No Island sanctuary of my salvation; I flee in reverse to gaze through the shuttered blinds of my rear window; my way is similarly occluded! Is this then doom which has spurred me to this place? They shout, condemning me as a mistake and would destroy me but for the walls I’ve fashioned. I feel to move on, but they would have me remain and use me up – such irony, that the wanton consumer would become the food!

What brought me here? It is there in silence waiting beneath the terror. I turn my face into it and feel the rising of its strength in me. It has never dropped my hand and guiding me still I step to the doorway. I throw open the door with trembling hands to the multitude that awaits me. Is this my darkest hour?

What is this?! Their hands are empty; their hearts are the near-blinding light they bear! The ponderous bulk that I bought with me has diminished – consumed in the reconstruction of what I am – all that brought me here is in the allowance of what I am becoming. They turn about to advance ahead of me beckoning that I follow, their welcoming hearts lighting my way into new possibility. I step forward in answer to their call. My legs feel weak, spindly and inadequate to the task of moving me through the doorway. I fall to my face defeated. Are the sticky twines of a spider’s grip holding me in place; are those her fangs at my throat in a venomous possession paralyzing me? I see the weapon welding torching bearing mob reflected in her fasceted eyes wooing me back into the supposed safety of my retreat. Oh, to fall again into the waiting slumber that welcomed me here – no not that; that time has surely passed. Will I be forever in the preparing, never to arrive? Am I ready to proceed? Is this the time?

I stand up on shaking legs to find my strength is settling higher; the core of me is moving higher with each new breath I draw, I am lifting me up. I feel the flower opening within me; I smell its inviting scent; I can taste its sweet allure. I feel so light somehow, hoisted into the winds of time, all effort flowing out of a higher center. They soar ahead lighting my way and looking over my shoulder I am exalted in the vibrancy of my new wings! They are the structure of my adventuring heart feeling its way in the culture of love. As I momentarily touch down, the gleaming wonder that brought me here settles about my feet pollinating all that I meet in new possibility.

They will come as I once did to consume the life that knows that touch ingesting the seed of alternative choosing. That seed will find its way into an inner sanctum to be safe harbored in the deep within. It is only a matter of time before the light of that choice matures into something too big to ignore. Then we will come knocking at your door inviting you to join us…..


©2012 Miles A Moody All Rights Reserved; Please kindly refrain from duplicating or disseminating this written work in whole or in part without my written permission.

Honeysuckle Throne


Miles Moody

Boone, United States

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Artist's Description

My little story ‘New’ is inspired by the Elton John song “Someone Saved My Life Tonight,” music where, in my humble opinion, we see masterful artistry in action. Elton John allows us an inside look into a man wrestling within himself as to whether to sacrifice his authenticity to a false identity that will see his art perish. On the surface the lyrics refer to Elton John’s fiancé, but at deeper levels we are peering into negative aspects within his psyche: “Prima donna Lord you really should have been there/Sitting like a princess perched in her electric chair/And it’s one more beer and I don’t hear you anymore/We’ve all gone crazy lately/ You almost had your hooks in me didn’t you dear/You nearly had me roped and tied Altar-bound, hypnotized/I’m strangled by your haunted social scene/Just a pawn out-played by a dominating queen.”
A more authentic aspect of himself as represented by his friend Long John Baldry, ‘Sugar Bear’ is viewed in the lines: “It’s four o’clock in the morning /Dammit listen to me good /I’m sleeping with myself tonight/Saved in time, thank God my music’s still alive/ They’re coming in the morning with a truck to take me home.”
Ultimately Elton John chose to honor a deeper truth in himself breaking off the engagement and saying goodbye to a self-destructive aspect: “So save your strength and run the field you play alone” and embracing an authentic voice within him: “Someone saved my life tonight.”

Artwork Comments

  • Rhinovangogh
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