The Beginning Poem by Leslie Neiwert

The snow rose up upon the mountain
As a harsh and ravishing wind
Surrounds the beauty by circling
Down into an abyss
Of a dark and morose flame,
But a light out of the dark does stream.
This light in a shape of a stream
Flows in its own accordance of the abyss
Moving in and out, but not circling
Alike to the dark and ravishing wind
Who allows no one to start a flame
Upon the cold, snow-covered mountain.
One day the harsh, cold wind
Became fed up with the light stream
Whose power came from the abyss
And not alike to its own by the mountain;
So it began to rise by circling
For there in his heart was a deepened flame.
It deepened and grew, his heart’s flame
As it began to expand on the pane of mountain;
It grew to a ravishing proportion, the wind,
Until it was tall enough to take on the stream;
He entered into the darkened abyss
And began to follow the light of circling.
He looked upon the feminine shape of the stream
As muscles of vengeances and lust flowed through the wind,
His tendrils of air slowed to a stop from circling;
The power source heard the stop and a cry came from the mountain,
A rumble of passion flared in the abyss
And, sprouted from both beings, an eternal flame.
Both he and she tumbled together in the abyss,
The harsh becoming a gentle, mild wind
And the light still shinning through the dark formed a stream;
Not annoyance nor grievance entered the mountain,
But it grew warm as the spread of flame
Continued in its entourage of circling.
This was the beginning of the stream and wind,
It was the end of a fearful abyss,
And the future of more flame to be circling upon the mountain.