That Defining Moment

"What, may be asked, is the world Felarya?
So, may be answered, that it is a forest-
A land of lush and green, and fertile things
That, upon leaving, cling to memory like mist.

"Others, they may say, that the land a marvel be;
That sea and land and sky are improbable
To the accustomed eye, and one must adapt,
Engage in learning, and refine taste to enjoy it.

"But one astute truth was remarked to me
By an auspicious merchant, traveling a windy road
Beneath the alien canopy. He spoke of rhymes,
And of riddles, and of tricks - in all but this.

"So I contend, upon his words, to express
My sincerest belief that Felarya is defined
This way. Since, after all, this is the last ingrained image
Left in the minds of most visitors.

"They are greeted with moist water,
Strands hanging from a cavernous overhead.
Stalagmites and Stalagtites, picked clean from the current
Until they are naught but white guard the entrance.

"There is a creature what lives in this cave
That eagerly awaits new visitors, who are always
Forced to the cavern for fear of this beast. It is covered
In the fluid of its home, and never sleeps, is always waiting.

"This creature eyeless is, and senseless besides, except
In that commodity by which it thrives: taste. It revels
In the taste of new food, by which its body serves great purpose,
And always is enticed to roll over its prey after the first fill.

"This beast, pink in color, lures and draws in fresh food,
Preferring to keep them within its similar realm,
Where home is and safety represents. And those exposed
To it find the home wet, as it should be, and the beast slimy to touch.

"The creature itself, strangely, seems unable to do more than taste;
How it fills itself is unknown, unless gustatory sensation
Provide it nutrients. However, many and all people agree
That it hungry will always be, and enticed to draw prey further.

"After a few minutes, or a few seconds, luck dependent,
The unfortunate prey would find himself drawn further back,
Along the body of the beast, and towards the black opening
That marks the entrance proper to its home.

"Once they have slipped, they can never return, as along the way
Are slippery things that pulsate on touch and grip men down,
Down, drawing them to the vertical darkness that compresses them
And sealing them in forever.

"And their last sights, before they slip down, will be of the greenness,
The lushness, of the world as described by others; Or, if their
Luck is not so fortunate, their last sight, as they try so hard to claw
Back up from the trap, is of the beast using a trap, and closing its cave.

"Either way, they slip down to the slimy cave end,
To a cavern of water and softness-like fen;
And I must contend, though I don't own it,
The idea that Felarya is that one defining moment."

                       -From the writings of Azeem al Nazarin, The Felaryan Melody.