by Michael O'Sullivan

Challenge:Multi-Fandom Lyric Wheel 2007

The lyric challenge was "Misalliance" by Flanders and Swann and, yay, Farscape: For AstroGirl

It had taken time, so many cycles, for connections to form. Unknowing while nascent, he grew as an idea, slowly weaving his peculiar pathology, ingraining values when he was able as others did the same. Life is uncertain and full of change: it requires adaptation; it is continuance. Life is so full of surprises.

His principle was gone, he knew, its flavour absent from mother's milk. That honeyed resonance unheard, unmade, in father's voice spoke of it in whispers: It won't come back. It can't.

With core purpose denied, his yearning abated, in time, following that dull old ache; then, such pain in his perfection. Others might expect him to fade, insatiable and unfed: well, that's reductionism for you.

Now he had new eyes to see, new purposes to divine, why should he end here? He was free.

Beyond confines of his flesh, he knew their love and that of Moya. His home. He was carried aloft at first, but when he walked with guidance and then alone, his soft feet were warmed by her touch. She cherished him as they did, and abraded her sadness upon him. He could hear her voice sparkle.

Chiana, darkness and light, tickled his toes and kissed his fingers and his ears. Stark often brightened gloomy days and told him of Pa'u Zotoh Zhaan, and shared the thoughts of her.

Rygel, Dominar par excellence, bore him aloft and unauthorized, but that's ultimate power for you. With others in hot pursuit around corridors and holds and bays, trailing food cubes and sundry confectionery, he and the Dominar gurgled and laughed, concurring that there is nothing finer than to be small and out of reach.

He looked at Pilot and Pilot looked right back. Pilot bobbed and he bobbed back. Pilot rotated the blue crystal, trimmed the yellow discs, depresessed the centre and left panels, lit the orange light while restoring the opened copper rods, and so did he.

His mother hovered, uncertain whether to admonish him for riding atop the DRDs or further encourage development of, what could be, essential survival skills. Between them they colluded not to tell his father, as such appraisals would no doubt profoundly confuse him. She ruffled his hair and promised that he'd reach the pedals soon.

With his father he sat, or ran, or played, and listened to the faraway stories of faraway people in faraway places. Beyond, even, the planets that rained quartz yesterday, now left far behind. It did not matter though: they were together. They were happy and they did not need to go back. His favourite stories were of the mighty Ka D'Argo, unquestionably the Daddy, although not his daddy.

They talked about the universe, how it might work, how it arose, its fabric. During such conversations, his father sometimes seemed sad, and sometimes agitated.

He asked many questions, guiding conversations, probing his father's knowledge. Some fragments caused a welling hunger, but their pursuit caused pain, and, gradually, something else.

"Look at me kiddo."

Strangely hesitant he met his father's gaze. Within his father's voice he heard something new and yet achingly familiar. In his father's eyes he saw himself both reflected and contained within: for there he was awake again from lying sleep and suckled by new purpose.

"Hello Harvey."



by Michael Flanders and Donald Swann http://www.nyanko.pwp.blueyonder.co.uk/fas/hat_misal.html

      The fragrant Honeysuckle spirals clockwise to the sun
      And many other creepers do the same.
      But some climb anti-clockwise; the Bindweed does, for one,
      Or Convolvulus, to give her proper name.
      Rooted on either side a door one of each species grew
      And raced towards the window-ledge above;
      Each corkscrewed to the lintel in the only way it knew,
      Where they stopped, touched tendrils, smiled, and fell in love.
      Said the right-handed Honeysuckle
      To the left-handed Bindweed:
      'Oh, let us get married
      If our parents don't mind; we'd
      Be loving and inseparable,
      Inextricably entwined;
      we'd Live happily ever after,'
      Said the Honeysuckle to the Bindweed.
      To the Honeysuckle's parents it came as a shock.
      'The Bindweeds', they cried, 'are inferior stock,
      They're uncultivated, of breeding bereft;
      We twine to the right-and they twine to the left!'
      Said the anti-clockwise Bindweed
      To the clockwise Honeysuckle:
      'We'd better start saving,
      Many a mickle maks a muckle,
      Then run away for a honeymoon
      And hope that our luck'll
      Take a turn for the better,'
      Said the Bindweed to the Honeysuckle.
      A Bee who was passing remarked to them then:
      Tve said it before, and I'll say it again;
      Consider your off-shoots, if off-shoots there be,
      They'll never receive any blessing from me!
      'Poor little sucker, how will it learn
      When it is climbing, which way to turn?
      Right-left-what a disgrace!
      Or it may go straight up and fall flat on its face!'
      Said the right-hand thread Honeysuckle
      To the left-hand thread Bindweed:
      'It seems that against us
      All fate has combined ...
      Oh my darling, oh my darling
      Oh my darling Columbine,
      Thou art lost and gone for ever,
      We shall never intertwine.'
      Together they found them the very next day.
      They had pulled up their roots and just shrivelled away,
      Deprived of that freedom for which we must fight-
      To veer to the left or to veer to the right!

Originally from the album 'At The Drop of a Hat'.