Mary (A Riddle)

Prologue(A riddle)
Well hello there. You must be the readers. I’m the narrator. Now the
author said I should say a few words about my wife so you can guess at
her identity as you read through the story. There are some other little
tidbits in there but most of them will make no sense until you know her
identity. This riddle is pretty tough for most people. Don’t worry if it
has you totally lost. Just read it carefully and keep it in mind as you
read the story. Anyway… here goes:
Listen now and I shall tell you of my loving wife
Sweet as honey

Mary is her name.

Full two score year hath she seen
And yet still like a child she is to me.

Sweet as the white trumpet’s kiss from the wall in summer time

Blackest eyes
Little looked anyone there for secrets
But secrets there were
I mined treasure in her gaze
When onyx changed to jade.
Love?
Our Love be no secret, nor ever was,
Save as love often is.
Many see new colors in familiar object
Only when a comrade points it out
(and then love may be  hotly denied)
Her gift was only such coin of sinew, flesh, blood, and bone
As shall fail when loves bright moon
Shall break upon the landscape of my soul.
(The sun being enthroned in heaven)
Neither argent circle nor argentium it self  holds any sway over her.
(Though the ignorant may dispute my claim.)
Carnal passion say you for her gift?
Say I, yes or no, still I lie.
But No be nearer the mark.
It was the icing on the cake of our first love making
Sweet aftertaste shall linger all the days of my life
Bitter it was in her mouth when I tasted it.

Sweet as air

What goes on four legs in the morning, two at noon, and three in the
evening?
No, that is all wrong.
The sphinx speaks only half the riddle in her case.
4 4 4
4 2 3
Thus goes her time line.
Why from moment to moment?

She was daughter to the trees
Raised by people not her parents if you go by DNA
Yet she spoke oft to those who bore her.

I wasn’t holding out for a hero,
And she didn’t have to be strong,
And she didn’t have to belong to the night.
But she found me none-the-less.

Dig it… she certainly does.

Manes of black, red, brown, yellow and aged wisdom’s pale crown there
are.
But not a single one matches her silken hairs,
Wise and deeply dark she is.
Stereotypical of her kind.

None other shall be my true mate.
Now lovers often lie,
But this be like gravity.
Olden curse shall bind us ‘til both shall sleep in death.
Only with me for her and her for me shall the spark of life be forged.
Full six arrows have we smithed,
Bright arrows to aim to God’s work and the future.
Dear God, let them not stray too far from the mark,
Let neither ill aim nor warp’ed shaft bend the course.
And six deaths has she died in my arms to bring them forth.
Blind and unclothed (not excepting natures glory) she brought them
forth.

The lost she brought back to the world
And the world did marvel much
A strong tower we built to hide them from those whose fear is greater
than their love
And those who love man more than men.

Ah, sweet Mary of mine, turn not your back on me in your anger.
Anger rare but fierce.
Take blood if you must but spurn me not from society.
Lest I should have to seek a vermilion poison known to Juliet’s
orser(sp?) cage bearing friend!
Its juices bring blessed surcease from torment.
Your instincts will second this plea for mercy.
And besides, turnabout is fair play…

My sweet Mary in referee’s uniform and executioners headgear.

‘And the two shall become one flesh’
For most they find the flesh of there flesh, the bone of their bone and
cleave to it.
Finding completeness in mirror.
The mirror of my soul she was before we took our vows yet we were of a
certainty not of one flesh.
But now we are.

And many called her beautiful
Especially when she takes from the Æther
A gift that females prize
(Or so stereotypes tell us)
…but hers is finer
Having a much better fit
Chocolate, flowers, exotic food?
All nice but not even close.
Love, children, a little house with a white picket fence?
You still shoot wide of the mark.
Pearls, diamonds, gold, satin, silk?
You come a little closer especially with those last two.
But, her admirers mostly underestimate the case
Seeing her only in black and white
I know her heart:
About the same size as your fist,
About the same size as a walnut,
Never too small to crush a town.
If you would see her true you need only search for her reflection in
mine eyes
Always it lingers there

She walked where many men would wisely fear to tread too long
Excepting maybe that she walked somewhat the lower
And she was only a year old when she started to walk alone.
And the darkness hid her from her prey.

Fouler than a tomb

Sweet as life

Send any guesses to or parts of guesses(well I think she can fly
because.....):