Cloud Cuckoolander Treatise: A Love Letter to Lord Shen

(Hey, guys, it's Herr Wozzeck here. This is a little bit of an interesting thing about me: for those of you who don't know me that well, I'm also into writing poetry, especially prose poetry and poetry about nerdy subjects. In fact, if you live in the Cambridge area, you can catch me at Stone Soup, which is a poetry gathering that meets at the Out of the Blue Gallery in Cambridge every Monday night from 8ish to 10ish. So if you're in town, stop by; it's a small place, but the poetry is good, we've got great open mic, and it's a fun night for all invovled!

Anyway... after that bit of fillibuster... I wrote a prose poem based on Kung Fu Panda 2 that I thought you guys would like to read. It may have minor spoilers, so beware. But nevertheless, here it is, and I hope you guys enjoy!)

A Love Letter to Lord Shen

To His Highest Excellency, and Would-Be Conqueror of China,

                I write these words, a warmth emanating from my heart into cold wastelands whose ice caps cannot be melted. I care not for the fact that you will not let the words of one with as little worth as me enter your mindscape as it’s torn asunder by storms of bitter anger. I ask not that you return my feelings, but only that you receive them, as you received the prophecy long ago that led you on a rampage on a cold night. If only I could warm the perpetual fimbulvetr of your soul... But as I trek through a blizzard of dark anger, I care not for slowly dying of exposure to the elements. If I could hear your voice just once saying words forbidden to mortal ears… if I could hear the voice to scare away the ice clinging to my body, to chase away bandits of black and white fur, I will die the happiest man alive. And should you take me into your wings, my last thought would be of how beautiful your eyes are, dyed as they are by the blood of those thousands of pandas you sacrificed to the soulless god of ambition. Even as the snow runs red with that blood, I would lay there, and feel loved, my shoulder resting against your breast.

                When you kill me, I hold my hands over the dagger that you have placed in my young heart, keeping it in place. For I know that this is the only time that our fingers will entwine, that I will feel your feathers on my skin, that both you and I will have a small piece of heaven in the snowy deserts of your heart.

I now know what true happiness is.