Royal Oracles

Brackish water filled our cups. The marsh-maids sweet upon our lips. Herons came and stood guard around where we slept. Arms interlinked to keep at bay the ice queen upon the sea. Smells sweet. Crabs clacking from the rocks. One leapt up, blinked and was gone. Tulips came to us and bowed their heads in reverence. Miniature men made us shoes. Small hands moving too fast to see. Kings came and buried themselves in the sand up to their necks. Fish darted through the air among their hair. Forming crowns of seaweed. A network of royal oracles. Talking heads sent to talk to the tide on our behalf. Look at how they love us. Look at how they serve us. There are men who would kill to be where we are. The grail laying between us. The smoke of luxury burning in the distance. The wind comes in to congratulate us. No one really understands what we’re doing here, do they? But they feel the power bent in our bows, pointed at the moon. The nutrients of near death. The calcified relics of saints who sank here. Where are their bones I wonder, as you brush the hair from your face.