Pon farr by T'Pala

  Gusts of hot arid desert wind 
  Carrying with it the spicy scent of cedars and olive trees 
  But a salty, Mediterranean breeze now coming in from the sea 
  As time proceeds 

  Time is running short 

  Inexorable, magnificent desert 
  But not home 
  Not ancient, sacred land of my people 

  This tiny yellow sun is not my sun 
  Soil - but not my soil 
  A blazing azure sky 
  But not my sky - the purple color of maku-try'sh'kar feathers 

  I hear a pounding 
  Irresistible, thudding like an ancient hypnotizing drumbeat 
  urging me home to the one I desire 
  But time is racing against us 

  All else out of mind's focus 

  What began with the koon-ut-kala 
  Must now be completed 
  or he and I 
  Will be swept away by the all-consuming fire 
  Burnt. 
     Devoured. 

  Cast into the longing arms of Oblivion 
  Our katras, - our immortal essence - gone 
  Wasted. 

  Katra 
  That which is still our own will be forged together 
  Fire and water 
  Black and White 
  Yin and Yang 

  Minds reaching 
  Complementing 

  To be One 
  To increase in meaning 
  To be whole for once 

  My mind now calling out to him 
  Calming him 
  Wiping away doubts 
  I will not be long, More-than-Worthy

 

Back to Vulcan (I wish)