I walk the plains and forests of this land protected by my coat of black. Like all Children of the Birdman, I have my companion with me always whether perched upon my shoulder, on a branch nearby or above me in the sky. It is called a symbiotic relationship by people. It is parasitic; he gains no advantage that I can see.
He finds us berries and nuts, plucks us worms from the ground. He flies high and ahead to find the way and to call to me when there is danger approaching. Danger that I don’t think I could ever protect him from.
I give him nothing but conversation and that’s really just a way to hypnotise him and keep him with me. Despite the colour of my coat I am no mate replacement. I have stolen him away from his kind for my own ends.
Perhaps I followed the wrong path. This guilt I feel makes no sense given the life behind me: from the day I saw the man at a distance through the woods with a blackbird upon his shoulder through to learning the calls from him and the day I left to wander without a human care, a Child of the Birdman seeking one day to pass and become a bird and fly as my stolen companion does.
If only I were the Birdman himself and could converse fully with these animals, if only the language had not been lost and turned to this sorcery.
He finds us berries and nuts, plucks us worms from the ground. He flies high and ahead to find the way and to call to me when there is danger approaching. Danger that I don’t think I could ever protect him from.
I give him nothing but conversation and that’s really just a way to hypnotise him and keep him with me. Despite the colour of my coat I am no mate replacement. I have stolen him away from his kind for my own ends.
Perhaps I followed the wrong path. This guilt I feel makes no sense given the life behind me: from the day I saw the man at a distance through the woods with a blackbird upon his shoulder through to learning the calls from him and the day I left to wander without a human care, a Child of the Birdman seeking one day to pass and become a bird and fly as my stolen companion does.
If only I were the Birdman himself and could converse fully with these animals, if only the language had not been lost and turned to this sorcery.
Note: Chomreedhoo is, I think, old Manx-Gaelic for Coat of black. The word appears in the song Armistice by Patrick Wolf, which is where I came across it - or, rather, more likely, initially, in the NME while talking about it. Not sure if I wrote this and the first Chomreedhoo (Coat of black) before or after hearing the song itself.
Additionally, this one is a follow-up of sorts to Myths of our Solar System (30): Makemake, the first birdman.
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