#Haiku and Epic-ness

Moon peeks over hill,
hides her face with cloudy mask
flirting with the earth.

The tale goes onward
the story’s path is winding
the end out of view.

This morning shining
but here I sit, waiting room
no sun, no bird song.

I read the old tales.
I see the hero-halo.
Become more epic?

I came to the car dealer for maintenance and such, prepared to stay awhile and figured a nice block of time for the NaNoWriMo story. I don’t normally write while listening to music but I needed to block out the inane waiting room TV and the obligatory whiny, entitled customers. I don’t think the music is a plus for writing but at least I’m not being imbued by nastiness.

I am making some progress in reading the Táin. It had a few places last night where I thought – come on folks – you forgot a few paragraphs of story here. Or it’s losing a line or two in translation. Perhaps that’s an important part of epic-tale-telling: you have to be willing to move on, even if there are some bits missing.

I loved this though:

The Warp-Spasm overtook him: it seemed each hair was hammered into his head, so sharply they shot upright. You would swear a fire-speck tipped each hair. He squeezed one eye narrower than the eye of a needle; he opened the other wider than the mouth of a goblet. He bared his jaws to the ear; he peeled back his lips to the eye-teeth till his gullet showed. The hero-halo rose up from the crown of his head.

What an image of that battle rage rising up and through someone and transforming them into someone able to do something beyond normal ability. Granted, this fellow was part divine but as the tale goes on the listener is told: he was only four, or only five or only six.

I’m not sure where all this reading will take me but I’m willing to follow these chariots awhile.