The Peacock and the Dragon

Late was the hour as the Sun slipped below the horizon to cede the place of sentry to the Moon.

The days were too often starved of excitement in the open lowland Wood but the Peacock could always be expected to mark such an occasion with a call as melodic as a hollow stump.

To know the call of the Peacock is to know that beauty is sometimes found somewhere else.

The Peacock is better judged by the eye and not the ear. Elegant tail feathers that stretch on forever with emerald greens and sapphire blues that dance around a mimicking iris, remain distinctive among avian kin. Delicate plumage with soft feather down and an intricate crown with crests like dainty tassels that stand, mark superiority matching the sheer size to that the Peacock has grown.

The Peacock does not ask permission when it swaggers through the lowland Wood seeking something of worth that might incite a billowing screech, falling within the scale of the primal.

The Peacock takes no master.

The Fabric of one’s reality, however much it delves deep to the intricate, can always be undone, and is often so from one simple change.

The Earth, for instance, was likely shocked when taught that the Universe’s centre was centred some place else and did not revolve around the meagre emerald sapphire orb. Much like the Peacock who was taught one night that the emerald sapphire feather was suddenly no longer as fetching as a mysterious visitor who’s hide was of pure golden scale.

The Moon rejoiced for such reflection for the light cast over the lowland Wood that glistened like a thousand shooting stars amassed together as a flying beast of beauty.

The Dragon has no master.

The Dragon does not simply do, when there is also done, doing and does, but there is no malice in these doings as much as there is no benevolence.

The Dragon is seen as ‘perfect balance’ within the ideas of earthly knowledge of Realty’s Fabric, but that night the Dragon was taught something new when from down below a screeching was heard as an echo in the night. The Dragon saw something in the eye of the Peacock as the tips of flowing horns pointed upwards and away so as to examine the flailing bird. There in the eye of the Peacock was not reverence or fear, but something else entirely, an ambivalence of emotion.

The Wood had never seen such majesty and such grace and such magnitude all at once, and in one mighty beast, and as the Dragon descended from the sky all others around gathered to take part in the momentous occasion. The visitor was gracious with the indifference held for the inhabitants of the Wood who were in awe of the unique physicality presented to them with golden hue.

Arching talon, serpentine body, and lofty wings that canopied the lowly critters, shielding them from the sudden rain. Droplets meandered through the complex matrix of golden scales and shimmered as they spilled like liquid crystal over the imposing body, then pooled beneath. Two dazzling emeralds appeared from under lid atop a snaking neck and arrowhead to observe the gathering that unfolded in the open lowland Wood.

The Peacock baulked, for emerald green was supposedly claimed and conceding that was like rending feather from tail and leaping from the highest hill. But the Dragon had no concern for such a petty squabble, indeed the whim to land among the Wood was like the frivolous changing of wind over the surrounding mountains that whistled through the branching pine-laden limbs forming trees encircling the gathered and their muse.

The Peacock’s ire was like a loose bunching of coloured feathers, off-putting and unappealing to behold, and the call in the night that followed was this time to mark the occasion of the Peacock’s disapproval. This impression was not shared by the others who gathered around, theirs was one of fascination and jubilance as the Dragon’s head greeted the night sky with a pensive gaze then brought forth a fleeting sun as a burst of glorious flame that basked the Wood in radiant light for only a few moments.

The Peacock could not bare to watch as the once loyal subjects turned their admiration away, too eager to pass over to the Dragon. The Dragon accepted their praise but grew tired quickly and decided to lay down to rest on the very spot that those who had gathered were standing. They dispersed as quickly as they had come to escape the heavy body that fell without regard, and all who were there were gone in an instant to return home safe and sound.

The Peacock and the Dragon was all that was left by then that night in the clearing, which is a place now know as Where the Dragon Descended. The Peacock was despondent and it’s colour felt drained, for how can one compare to such a beast of fierce beauty and freedom.

Love and loathe fluttered like courting butterflies at the turn of spring throughout the Peacock’s spirit, but their wings were sharp and jaggered and their movement jaunt and conflicting. Sleep that night for the Peacock was sparing.

When all the creatures of the Wood awoke the next morning the Dragon was no where to be seen, a burnt vacant cot, once a small clearing, was the only remnant. Fervent eyes searched the new day’s sky but there was nothing except a smattering of cloud and the watchful Sun whose turn had come again to oversee the world below.

Some spent the days that followed in hope that the Dragon might return to the Wood, but their encounter with the Dragon would prove to live on only in memories, tied forever to the place Where the Dragon Descended.

The Peacock was glad be rid of the vagrant nomad, but over time the Peacock grew to admire the golden beast because beauty and nature has no agenda, it just simply is.