the sacred forest of the snow tiger...

he had thought that he was safe
there in his forest of ice
he’d left behind the world of warmth and light

choosing instead a life of dark and cold

where all was night
he had feared the heat of the other world
feared it with a passion most never know
feared it as most would love their mates
but fear it he did

for he was

the snow tiger 

he’d painted his hard lean body
in stripes of shadows and light
the blackest of black the whitest of white
he’d painted it like the stripes on the trees
with their ribbons of frost
not to be seen by day or by night

and so he lived in the vast wasteland of steel and cold
that he’d worked feverishly to uphold
never allowing another in
guarding the glacier that was all him
never leaving the safety of his self-made lair

he was happy there
  he was safe
only one as frigid as he could survive such a place
but there was no nourishment to be found in his arctic woods

he hunted here he hunted there he hunted everywhere
  the gnawing hunger remained
it gnawed through his belly and into his cold dark heart
leaving a hole that could not be filled
  there was nothing left in his forest

to be hunted

to be consumed

to ease the pain of his hunger as it grew
the hunger he had felt before
  which now became a ravishing sword

  then one day at the forest edge
as he crept closer and closer still
there stood a vision he ne’er had seen before
but one he feared nevertheless
  feared to the bottom of his lonely soul

this vision meant danger
danger to him and to all that was his

the vision remained

there it stood
staring straight into the windows of his barren soul
something familiar

something once known
  a dream
but no - it was a mortal creature this vision he feared
a creature with long dark hair 

hair that swept the snow beneath her human feet

the sight of this mortal soul struck a chord of primal fear

fear of something close something near too near
her haunting black eyes never left his icy stare
her scent attacked the spirit he’d long forgot
  was she but a gentle breeze
blown by the dusty figments of his empty imagination
  the trees in his forest having long since lost their leaves

he could not strike

he could not flee
he was transfixed frozen in her light
and what of that light - it was not white, that must be it
this light - this impure light emitted something evil - something sinister
it had color - and that evil that he most feared

the one her light emitted
to the gods he implored

not this not this - this he could not survive
this would surely kill him - this - this was his most dreaded enemy
this was warmth it was heat! 

it was
life!

and in that moment of time stood still
the she-creature fearing not his warrior stance
edged closer and closer again
moving toward him toward and all that was his
he roared at her from the icy lobes of his fractured heart
threatening threatening again
but she did not fear him did not retreat
closer still she edged into his sacred trees

her smell permeated deeper still

permeated to his core
leaving him wanting needing more
his mind abandoned him
he could not think as before

she had brought with her
weapons the likes of which he’d never seen

even in dreams
  his great claws began to lose their grip
their grip no longer holding to the frozen ground now turned liquid

her eyes never left his soul's stare as she came toward him
bringing with her a strange never felt sensation
  foreign to him it burned his eyes attacked his nostrils flared
  it invaded that secret part of him long held captive by the cold
this light that surrounded her now surrounded him
what could it be
his worst fear brought to reality?
what could it be?  who could she be?  who was she?
this mortal who walked in light in heat

this light that once attacked his senses
somehow now seemed to ease the ravaging pit of his hunger
further and further she encroached
her odour ate at him
it

conquered

advancing

ever more

the light and the warmth that was her invaded him deeper
deeper into the darkest recesses

surging but never retreating
until it reached the stalwart chambers of his heart of stone
seeping down into the crevasse of cold that had been his life
it left him dizzy

it left him alive

but it did not leave him

then he realized that thing - the thing that she brought with her

that light and warmth thing - it was something he almost remembered
from the other world - something he need not fear 
 
 it
was a thing called

love

and this other thing

this she-creature

this mortal whom he had first feared
he remembered her now, too
from once before

in the land of light and warmth
yes
he remembered her now

she
was the

gypsywoman

she had traveled far suffered much to reach him 

to save him from the ravages of his own frost

from the hunger that consumed him
in his sacred forest where all was lost

she had come from the other world  

and she had come

for

him

.

.

.