Deus Ex Machina

Posted on January 9, 2011

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Ever since the time was born, and the land was flat, the serpent had already noticed. That inside its inviolable adoration towards mother earth, a tree has always been attached to her highness. Unlike many trees that rose from the body of her holy earth, it induces the serpent’s pupils to dilate with jealousy, where tears will stream down unguarded regarding the lack of eyelids. The tree is slim, with no leaf hanging, with angled and parallel trunks occupying the sunless figure down to the lower ground, where long and narrow roots are seen everywhere. Just like a wooden path layering the skin of mother earth.

At mid day, the serpent will creep up to the end of mother earth’s ridge, to savor some celestial delusions, to worship all over her highness’ humble but pert breasts. It will then edge down to watch her bathing in the waterfall. The cold-blooded creature will glide out all the rocks to make way for channel and paddle its white, sleek body inside mother earth’s fluid substance to cure its thirst.

At the end of the day, it will crawl up to the very cold top of the mother earth, and lie to watch her highness’ sky changes color. After lushing out on her hair of green foliage, the serpent will whisper out loud amid the untrodden depths of her wilderness, a dry tundra, a small, haunting part at the center of mother earth’s heart. Being a limbless creature, the serpent can only caress the surface with its scales and cry along in secrecy.

At night, the serpent will return home. A tree it is, its very own tree, even stronger one with thick, deep roots and plentiful of healthy fruits. The great tree cares not for the serpent’s absence, cares not for any evidence of small deception, for it only care to grow straight high to the outer space. And nothing can separate the two except the death of one. In truth, the serpent was born and live for the great tree.

And at midnight, the sly serpent will sneak out to adore the mother earth for the last time before the day repeats. It will hiss to the moon about how it yearns a shelter inside her cave, how it yearns to lure her skin with venomous bites. But all it can get in return is a glimpse of scene from the mother earth and the gracefully slim tree, their bodies in a thousand ways of sacred connection, inseparable, unremovable, so close, so merciless! The serpent will suffer from unnatural pain in its hollow heart, like a dying breed, a broken third wheel, a solitary creature without limbs, without reason, but a split tongue. And then it will slither back, and lie in circle biting its own tail under one of the sturdy armpits of the great tree, who has a plentiful of healthy fruits.

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Posted in: art, fiction, literature