Mountain Dreaming Giant
The sleeping giant slowly wakes
into the mountain dawn;
his morning glory
exposed in silhouette
as he lies stretched
across the summit
looking out at fading stars;
arms folded
behind his head,
wings cascading
down the olive slopes,
in this, his eternal resting place.
No longer does
he sweep the Cretan
landscape three times a day,
protecting the island from
pirates and marauders,
or adventurers like
Jason and his Argonauts
No longer does he
hurl rocks
down into the Agean Sea,
sinking ships
before they ever land.
This is Talos
who, enchanted by nymphs
and nature spirits
dancing with the water
running over granite stones
along the bottom
of the Topolia Gorge,
felt a murmur where his heart
should have been.
Talos, the bronze automatron
crafted by the Minoans,
(or maybe even Zeus himself
as a gift for King Minos,)
with liquid metal flowing
along one great vein
to give him life.
The soft sounds
of the rushing river
which rang out the hypnotic
song of Britomartis,
the mountain goddess,
sent Talos into
a semi-spinning trance
in this hidden place,
full of mystery.
How tired he was
of hurling rocks
and guarding, ever watchful,
over Crete.
How he longed to simply lie down
and dream a bronze age dream.
Up he climbed
into the enchanted cave of
Agia Sophia
where a small spider, industrious,
unique amongst all spiders
had made this cathedral of
stalagmites and stalagtites her own.
She dropped onto his shoulder
and whispered in his ear:
‘Talos my love, you are so tired,
you need to rest.
Let me weave this bed of silk
right here
for you to sleep
your great bronze sleep.
For this night you will dream
in the colour of creation;
instead of blackness
there will be soft light filled with
the scent of orange blossoms
blown in on the warm winds of Africa,
and the sound of the swallows
as they skim across pools
catching insects
in the valley below.
You will dream of the eagle’s
wing as she soars on thermal
currents above crag faced cliffs
and mountain peaks,
circling with her mate as they
hunt for food
to bring home
to the nest.
You will dream of the olive grove
clinging strong on the hillside,
the sheep bells clinking
through the trees as they head
for fresh pastures.
You will dream of the old toad
on the islet at Elafonisi,
who hides from the sun
in the cool hollow trunk
of the Spiny tree
and the loggerhead turtle
laying her eggs
in the sand dune above
the crystal clear
azure lagoon.
You will dream,
you will dream
you WILL dream."
Talos lay down on his bed of silk,
so soft against his metal skin,
drifting as the spider
sang in his ear.
His heart,
or the place
that his heart would
have sat, were he
flesh and bone,
started to beat
a steady dream-like beat.
Indeed, he dreamed of
all the things
the spider sang,
as she spun out the stories
of the Topolia Gorge
“I am the mother of all your mothers”
a voice echoed in his head.
He glanced sideways and spied
a woman, majestic, strong, refined
sat upon the rock beside him.
She was a shapeshifter, a sorceress,
with snakes in her hair
or so her long unruly mass of
curls seemed
in the half-light of his trance.
This was Medea;
he'd heard of her power
in this land of the snake goddess,
the sorceress whose chariot
was pulled by dragons.
"I can turn you into an immortal man."
His heart space beat a little faster
"I have the skills to make the fire
in your belly
reach into your loins
and you will become a god.
Lie with me Talos and
I will make you an immortal,
no longer a metal giant
without a heart
but a holy man mountain,
who will feel the warmth of the sun
every day as he wakes
to make love in all his glory
in my fertile valleys.
No more hurling rocks,
instead hurling your heartbeat
into this land to keep it green.
All you have to do is let me
unblock your vein so your molten
metal life force will spill into the
cave and turn to gold, and you
will have a heart."
The snakes by her side were dancing
as she spoke so softly to him,
stroking his stiff metal limbs
and climbing onto his mighty thighs.
She was right, of course,
this was his chance to wake
up into his dream of becoming
sacred flesh, a god
with a beating heart,
a mountain so fertile
that every Spring
his new heart would
burst in floral joy,
remembering how
he dreamed it into being.
No more smashing rocks.
As his heart beat faster
Medea pulled the nail
from his ankle,
and the molten bronze became
blood gold as it spilled
onto the earth.
As his life drained away,
he spun out of the cave,
flying high with the eagles
to the top of the mountain.
There he lies still,
in all his morning glory,
dreaming of that night in the cave,
with the spider spinning
visions of Medea,
who each morning
climbs on top
with her snake skin dance
to warm his mountain heart.
Talos has become an immortal.