The Thread and the Storm

The storm in his eyes was once a whisper in her mind.

Credit: NDjin Gallery - ndjin.co.uk

Under storm-laden clouds, a silver thread foretold.
Thunder beat like drums; her breath caught in the cold.
The hoofbeats neared — the world held tight, awaiting the unknown.
And through the tension in her chest, a single word was sown.

Before the door flew wide, she had already seen the thread.
The storm in his eyes was once a whisper in her mind.
He knelt before he ever left, in the echo of a promise.
And gold gleamed on his chest before the black serpent unwound.

Even as the black snake coiled, she sensed the golden beast,
A warmth in the chill wind, a signal of what was near.

Þā swart næddre ārās, ac se gylden wilde hæfde ǣr geweald on hyre heortan.

Then the black snake rose, but the golden creature had already held power in her heart.

He was crowned in her memory before the threshold.
The silk-wrapped gift was known to her heart before the door breathed.

---

Now he stands before her.

Crowned not by his past but by what’s to come.
Her breath begins to ease; her fears begin to roam.
The raven at the window taps — a question in its stride.
And in the quiet of her sigh, her shoulders loose the tide.

From black snake’s shadow to a golden crest,
He lays down his burden — a small trembling guest.

“Queen,” he whispers, “I am home, though once a simple man”.

And from the silken bundle, a puppy’s gaze began.

And in that wilderness, the raven, that pure serpent,
She bowed to the king and cried: “When will the lands return?”
The raven in the wind’s embrace was already there.

And in that moment, all was answered — though nothing was said.

A poem inspired by Moll Moonlight.

If something moved in you — a line, a moment, a breath — I’d love to hear it below, or in my DM’s.

This isn’t just a post. It’s part of a silver thread.