Muse Of My Heart

Ilmari Ahti Yrvo was not usually called by his name. In the caravan where he grew up he was called Ari. In the city where he stayed to live a life of theiving luxury he was called Ahti The Wretched, and he was wanted for an amount of gold he could never have stolen in his lifetime. He was a con artist, a trickster and a fool if you ask his mother. The caravan was is only true home. His mother was Rom and therefore so was he. His father was also Rom. His father would drive their cart and care for the Tigers. They may not have had as magnificent a show as Cirque de Magnifique, but they did have the most beautiful tigers. Ilmari knew the tigers by name and they knew him by smell. They happen to love him, since they grew up as cubs all together. Ilmari learning tricks like the cards, dice and ways to get a lady to treat him with pity. All the while the Tigers, O and M, would learn how to jump, paw the air and roar to strike fear and awe into the crowds. Then at night Ilmar would crawl into...

I will never know. But whatever the amount of time, I floated above his face. I felt more and more like a curious bird, like a gosling. He was just something beyond what I had ever seen before. This could not be a Man, but I knew it was. However, he did not have the snarling facial features the other men had, from before. He also was not screaming or yelling or spitting. He merely made a light humming sound. Almost as if he was asleep. I cocked my head to the other side to perhaps get a better look. I would very much like to touch the hair.... ********** I never have felt a fear such as this in all my life. She is naked, though I suppose that ought not to be my first shocking thought. I wonder if she notices I am awake. No. She continues to look at me like I am a ghost. She is the one with wings and only her hair to cover her, however magnificent it is. "You may not touch my hair." I suppose I shouldn't have said that, for she just flew up past the highest canopy. Th...

The silver wind strikes my face. I keep my eyes closed. My wings stretch out the tips flexing and sifting the air between each feather. No longer crushed into my sides, no longer in the darkness, no longer covered by my humanity, I open my wings to the sun and the sky. They are strong. I can hold the sky below me and above me. The air caresses my body to the tips of my toes. My hair will be a mess when I am through, but for now I will let the wind twist his fingers through it. I see a billow of water and dirt, a cloud. Tucking my wings in to my sides, not cramped like before, but like an arrow, swift and straight. I fall, fast. Diving into the cloud water permeates my whole being. I bathe in this water, bask in this sun, strengthen my soul with the foundations of my flight. Cleans my body, mind and soul. Leave my heart in this clean and and pure sky. By the time I glide low enough to be seen, I am called back to being alert. I scan the Earth below me, desperate to be hidden and to no...