Hello friends and followers, It has been a bit of off and on for me and writing as my work seems to be sucking most of my brain these days. And then there are the holidays. I swear I don’t … Continue reading On Bowling, Jesus and Rod Serling…
Death of the Buffalo This piece was done so many years ago, as I began my journey inward, searching for the source of my great sorrow. So many things I learned, so many I wish I didn’t know but have … Continue reading Death of the Buffalo/Art
…With every turn
the truth revealed,
like layers of
an onion peel. Continue reading Kaleidoscope
She pulled back the edge of the fur blanket to peer into its scrunched up face. It was a lovely little creature, with dark hair and creamy white skin but for the teeth marks embedded in the back of its neck. How it wailed Continue reading Its Done/Forever Never
Exhausted and afraid, Amhain turned in frustration from the animal, pulled his knees to his chest tightly, and would have sat in that mud hole of anger and self pity until the rain washed him away; for his hope was dying along with his Mother’s world. Continue reading Never Alone/Forever Never
. He stared as her face contorted in grotesque fear, he gasped as her eyes flew open wide, sucking him into their endless darkness, and observed in disbelief as the perfect world he knew slowed to a mere glimmer of its former brilliance as her crimson lips formed the words, “Amhaaaaain….noooo…”! Her lips seemed to bleed as he watched, the drops falling onto the pale, tender cheek of his brother. Continue reading Miracles and Madness/Forever Never
Forever Never/The Dawn of Illusion
copyright all content 2015
So long they have waited, so faithful to the word, as they lived and worked for this night. The Jinetes make their way to Espera to fulfill the prophecy, to fulfill their greatest desires…..
Beneath the Blood Moon
Very busy, indeed. Ar’tine was only mildly wounded that he had not been asked to join the others from the Realm as they shared in these special events. Apparently they had no trust left for him. Where, oh where, was the blessed forgiveness they promised to all? And yet so little for him. Always his thoughts were of his own need, his own deprivation and desire. It was merely a detail for him anyway; for nothing could really keep him from joining them-by his own devices, of course. After all, he had his dark lake of visions from which to observe all that happened on the world of his Father’s Twin. What truly cut him to the core was that his abandonment now included the goddess Bandia, she who had always seemed his support. This was indeed painful. But he welcomed the pain. It added to his self pity, the delusion of betrayal, and urged his need to feel bitterness and separation. The darkness rose within him like a surging wave and washed over his soul, drowning the flecks of light that flickered there, small and struggling. “I will enjoy this ceremony as much as they will,” he thought. “even more, because I know how to enjoy it.” It added to his pleasure to think that his own time of reunion was nearing. Soon he would see and know his As’me once more. He unconsciously let out a long, low moan that sent dark things scurrying into the mists far from his long arms of desperate irritation. How slowly things moved in the physical world, he commiserated..
The Horsemen of Jinetes spotted flickering lights through the sparse line of trees and realized they had reached the edge of Espera. Their hearts thundered in their chests, yet they continued making music as they drew ever nearer to the door of possibility, stopping just beyond the edge of the forest. The males filed into the clearing and spread out in a single, ceased their playing, and lowered their instruments. The females seated at the long table looked their visitors up and down with brazen appreciation. It was an awkward moment for both tribes, finally sharing the same space, looking at one another with anticipation and a new hunger.
Palabra smiled at the Hunter and returned to the table, placing the bowl and fruit in the center. She could feel Ella’s breath on her arm, coming in short bursts, as she leaned over the female, the fruit passing just in front of her face. La Palabra whispered to her favorite of the females, “Do not forget to breathe, my child, lest you lose consciousness and miss him altogether.” She gave Ella a quick glance and a wink and found her place, standing behind the others. After what seemed an endless moment to those present, La Palabra raised her medicine rattle high and beckoned the males of Jinetes.
Worthy companions of Jinetes, who have shared our land and waited along with us for the patient hand of Eternity to bless us with the knowledge of Creation. Come, share our food, drink our teas, and raise love’s song so that your soul’s desire may answer! From this moment of recognition you shall no longer walk alone. Your hearts, your hope, your celebration will be shared as you continue this journey of life as one!” La Palabra closed her eyes, lowered her arms and the females waited with bowed heads and eyes closed, knowing the blood moon was meant to awaken the non visual senses. There was silence but for the soft sound of the river flowing beyond the trees.
The wind caressed their flushed cheeks while a soft, low whistle began, the notes clear and sharp as it hung in the air between male and female. A lilting strain had been lifted and then allowed to fall away. A long pause followed, the moment suspended as a delicate strand, until the first female stepped forward and, with eyes still closed, lifted her face to the light of the moon. Quietly she began to sing the same notes that had come from the instrument of her beloved. It was glorious to watch, as natural a dance of companionship as all other of Creation’s rituals. Her voice clear and perfect, once the singing ceased, they opened their eyes to gaze at one another and the male approached, extending his hand. She placed her own hand within his and they returned to sit at the table. Again and again, the ritual played out as each male played his own song and waited to have it returned to him by the voice of his chosen companion. Before long the table was filled with couples, bodies warm with excitement and sheer delight on their faces.
At last there remained a single couple, still and quiet-waiting, wondering. With eyes closed, Ella had no way of knowing who had been thus far paired, for not a word had been spoken; and she fought back the invasive tendrils of fear that threatened to taint the precious moment. Still, she held the vision of her beloved in her mind as she waited for his call. Would it be as she prayed? Her heart was a wild beast against her breast, waiting, her ears aching to hear the song again-his song, her body poised to join him at the table, her soul longing to be connected.
“How long will he torture me this way!,” her mind cried.
When at last he lifted the clay instrument to his mouth, the Warrior could scarcely play, so fearful was he that he would not be able to duplicate the melody, so certain that even though no other female remained, that surely this would prove a mistake-Ella would flee the table, frightened of him, wanting him to be someone else. He remembered the stones he held close to his body, reminding him he was not alone. He glanced at Eolas. A quick nod from his friend relieved him of his fear and stilled his heart. His mouth seemed too dry to open but he managed to wrap his lips around the clay and began slowly blowing the notes, shakily at first, and barely audible. He watched Ella standing patiently, her hair caressed by the night breeze; and his body took over, accomplishing what his fearful mind seemed unable to do. From deep within him the necessary breath came and the song was played, almost as though independent of his will; and with every note, the music grew stronger, louder and clearer-over and over the melody drifted across the clearing to pierce the ears of she who longed to hear it. Ella swayed, her knees nearly buckling under her. Loach froze, unable to play. He moved to go to her but Eolas and Palabra lifted a hand of warning to the to the Warrior to remain where he was. He was confused. Was he to do nothing? How could he watch her fall? He waited, wondering why she was in distress, uncertain if it was disappointment or fear which paralyzed her. Ella’s chest rose and fell, again and again as she steadied herself. Her lips were full and soft in the red glow of the blood moon; and as they finally parted, the lilting tone of her voice drifted over the clearing to a very grateful Warrior. She returned every note of his song perfectly as he stood, mesmerized, in her presence. He thought he could stand there forever, if only she would keep singing to him.
Suddenly she stopped and the world fell silent. Ella knew she would have to open her eyes, so what was she afraid of? She recognized his song, had returned it, had known in her heart that Spirit would bless her life, and still….. Slowly she forced her eyelids to obey, opening them to the beautiful sight of her Warrior, Loach, standing with outstretched arm and open hand. If only she could get her legs to work without stumbling she would go to him, would run to him if she could. Instead, she raised her hand as he stepped forward and gently grasped it within his. Her knees betrayed her at last, buckling even as she needed to be strong; but Laoch pressed against her body, becoming her legs with his weight until she could stand on her own. He smiled gently as they moved to the table of ceremony and took their places there. She wondered how a single moment could move her from independent, fierce Huntress to an immobile, speechless creature; but it felt wonderful, so she pushed the thought away.
Palabra motioned to Eolas to join her. The Hunter marveled at the new ritual he had witnessed, amazed by the perfection in it. Not only had there been a perfect match of the males to females, but the addition of Loach to the group had not thrown the number out of balance. How was it possible? It was yet another wonder to accept without question, as seemed to be the case more and more within their unfolding lives.
La Palabra motioned for the essence bowls to be lit as she filled the pipe of Celebration for she and Eolas to share; and they shared heartily, soon laughing and finding much to talk about. The others chatted softly to each other, at first in uncertain tones; but soon the sound of excited voices filled the night sky above Espera as they grew more familiar.. They sipped the teas, brewed specially for the occasion, and were soon feeling giddy from it, having fasted since the previous night’s meal.
Eolas spoke to La Palabra about the new writing he was creating for recording all events on their world so that they could keep the word of Eternity for generations to come. The wise female was impressed but not surprised, for after all,. that was as it should be. She admired the Hunter very much. There was a calm certainty about him, and she inquired about his life companion. He was thrilled to speak of Eagna; however, a deep pang pierced his chest at the mention of her name, a reminder of how much he missed her in that moment with other souls coming together on their world. He looked around at the new bonds forming between the lovely humans he had come to know, and his words were caught in his throat.
“Mother Palabra, my beloved-my Eagna-waits for me back in our land. It was too far a journey for one in her new condition. But she would have loved to be here, of this I am certain. I am missing her very much tonight.” He looked at his cup of tea, thinking that Eagna would have been the one to brew it had she been with them for the ceremony. It was suddenly so difficult for him to concentrate on anything else.
She stood and motioned for the females to stoke the smudge pots, raised her arms, palms up, and began to chant, her voice rising through the darkness to the crimson moon over their heads. After a few moments,every voice at the table joined her, the females first, followed by their male guests. The chant became a chorus, pulling Eolas to join the call, as he felt his heart open completely to trust, holding the vision of Eagna standing beside him-with him. He had not forgotten a single line of her body- the curve of her chin, the turn of her head, the sound of her laughter; and soon he felt her energy there beside him, moving through him. Like a watery dream she stood near the table, naked beneath the blood moon, with arms outstretched, just as La Palabra. Just like his Eagna. Naked? He wondered as he reveled in the perfect moment.
La Palabra’s chanting ceased as she began calling to the Realm, the rest at table falling silent. “Blessed Mother, you who breathed life into our bodies, must hear us now. We call to you from your world, the face of Domhan, as was decided at the moment of our Creation. In the name of Great Spirit we have followed your instruction and come to you in ceremony that the union of our tribes will be blessed with Light, with love and much fertility. May each soul recognize its purpose in this dream-your vision of love through us, your Children. We ask that you join us now, that we might be sanctified before we lie together, blessed and full of the Light of Eternity.” Again she raised her voice in song.
The fire pits that had crackled softly moments before suddenly blazed, reaching higher and higher until the orange tips licked the low hanging branches at the forest’s edge, lighting the gnarled faces of those silent. They all gasped anxiously; but Palabra motioned for them to join the call to Eternity. All around the table, with clasped hands, they raised their voices, raising the song higher and stronger, sending a prayer of hope to the blood moon. Within moments they heard a soft fluttering, distant at first, but growing louder, ever more intense as they chanted, until the clearing became alive with the sound. It seemed as though every winged creature on Domhan had joined them.
But there were no birds. The fire blazed against the starlit black sky, a dance both hypnotic and alluring, finally parting like tall grasses for the beasts that roam; and in the black wedge of night that remained there, the glowing embers danced and popped, taking shape as figures hovering over the fire. As they became more distinct, the familiar forms of those known as the family of Creators were instantly recognizable. The great plumed bird, the wide-eyed night owl and the gently sloping form the of the mourning dove. None present was surprised by this, although each would keep the vision as a miracle within their heart.
“Our precious Leanai, you have brought pleasure to the Realm on this night of the blood moon, proving your faith, strength and fierce dedication to the prophecy. If it is our blessing that you seek through this ceremony, you may tarry no more. Take the vision of Eternity’s Light with you when you lie together, remembering that our love is ever with you, even when you can no longer see us this way. Carry our essence within your souls, for it is there that we truly exist. We are but a small part of the All That Is, and through your creation you increase the measure of existence.” Scarlet flames lapped at their bodies as the fire threatened to swallow them up but receded, allowing them a final word.
“Call upon the name of Light whenever you need us. There is always enough love for even the least of our creations. Do not run from darkness if it visits your dwelling. Invite it inside in the name of Love and accept its role in your being; for the more you resist its presence, the more you work destroy or deny it, the greater will be its desire to be known by you, to be accepted. You must never walk in fear. For there is no fear in Perfect Love, our Children. There is no fear in Perfect Love..” In a flash of brilliant embers they were gone, leaving those at the table to wonder in amazed reverence. There were no other words heard from those who had dreamed them into being. The fire roared up into the darkness then fell silent as though a mighty breath had blown it out. Once more the embers crackled quietly, flames flickering gently in the night breeze.
La Palabra drew in a deep breath of damp air, heavy with the perfume of the flowers that lay, languid on the tables and hung from the trees surrounding the village. Indeed, Servia had outdone herself. Indeed, all of her Daughters had proven themselves worthy of this celebration. She hoped their efforts would be as noble in the playing out of their lives in their world-this walk no longer to be taken alone. She raised her arms and shouted, “Thanks be to Spirit!” There was complete silence for a single moment before a collective answer rang out, “Thanks be to Spirit!”, followed by much shouting and laughter as the food was passed and the drink poured freely until the tea pots were completely emptied and every belly was full. The words flowed, the smiles were abundant, and many tender and private secrets would be revealed between the couples before the morning sun began their new life.
“We have done well, my friend,” Mother Palabra leaned towards Eolas, who was stuffing his last bite of meat into his mouth, savoring it as he thought of his next meal with Eagna. He shook his head emphatically in agreement as he swallowed the food. He knew what was left to be done. Quietly La Palabra signaled for the remains of the feast to cleared, the chosen females tossing the remains into the forest for their friends within it. There was one very important event which remained. All eyes were soon fixed on the fruit nestled in its wooden cradle, waiting patiently for its performance. They knew of the tree in the Garden-the tree of Fertility, of Life. They were more than ready to have their creative spirit awakened. Some shifted nervously on their stools. More than a few giggles were heard; but a stern glance from La Palabra in their direction reminded them that this was a sanctification and a solemn time. Still….a smile wiggled at the corners of her own mouth; for she knew what longings the fruit would awaken withing their villages that night.
She took the gift and placed it before Eolas. He nodded, took out his stone knife and began to cut it into small chunks, returning them to the bowl. Syrupy dew dripped through the holes in the bowl and ran in sticky rivulets across the table. Soon, there was a golden mound before him and he rose, taking it to the far end of the table. He passed the bowl to each couple, all taking a small piece in turn; but none put it to their lips. Not until Palabra gave the word. When he reached the last couple, Laoch and Ella, he looked at his dear, giant friend and gripped his muscular shoulder. He felt his friend’s quickened pulse through is skin. What a genuine soul, Eolas thought. And how lucky for this female to have found him. Eolas returned to his place beside Palabra, whose face was glowing with perspiration in the dim light of the fire yet shadowed by something else. For a fleeting moment she seemed crestfallen, overwhelmed by some unspoken sadness. Eolas opened his mouth to inquire; but as quickly as it had appeared, the look faded and she smiled, giving the word they were waiting for.
“With great Love were you created. In greater Love are you joined here this night. May all that you bring forth into Domhan be an increase of that Love. Eat, my children. May your love be expressed throughout all your lives..”
Some devoured the fruit whole while others nibbled the flesh slowly, savoring it like nothing they had known or would know again. Some fed their pieces to their companions, allowing them to lick the sticky dew from glistening fingertips. But none hesitated. Laoch gave his portion of the precious fruit to Ella, for he had already been awakened what seemed so long ago and far away in the light of the future unfolding for him. This experience would never be matched. It was decided that half the newly formed tribe would inhabit the dwellings that stood in Espera, while the other half would go back to Jinetes. The arrangement would likely bring sadness and tears for those females who would be leaving their friends behind, but tonight they knew only one sensation, one emotion; and it drove them from the safe haven of their homes and into strange and tantalizing new adventure. After everyone left for their rooms, only a few remained to clear the remains of the sticky, sweet memory. Ella fetched a bowl of water while Laoch damped the fires, leaving only small pits to burn through the night, as was their custom. Eolas and Palabra sat with heads together, sharing their hopes for the future of Domhan and their deep concern for the new unions that were being forged in this place and elsewhere on their world.
Ella, finished with cleaning, approached La Palabra to say her farewells. It felt like something so much larger than goodnight; and she was filled with mixed emotion. Her heart felt the overwhelming sorrow of leaving behind some kind of innocence, some part of herself that would never return; but her desire was stronger to move forward with the Warrior, to retire to the mystery of union. She had remained busy so as not to allow her heart the freedom to express itself, for surely it would have burst from the fullness of it all; but now there was nothing left to do but move on. Palabra took Ella’s hand in her own and looked into the female’s dark eyes.
“My daughter, you have made me proud ever since we came into being. Tonight has been most glorious.. The song you raised to heaven could tease the very stars from the sky above.” Ella flushed. What would Laoch think of this praise? Her question was answered when she felt his strong arm gently slip around her waist from behind, his hand cupping her hip.
“Thank you Mother Palabra. My only wish is to never fail you-or Spirit. Truly this is the greatest moment any of us may know in the dream walk that we share. May we now…”
La Palabra released her hand and laughed, “Go, go, go now! Be true to the fruit. Your labor will come later. And labor you shall.” She laughed again. Ella wasn’t quite sure what to make of the declaration, but she didn’t care to ponder it in that moment. There was so much more she desired of the night. Soon La Palabra would be very far from her thoughts. Just the nearness of Laoch had begun to stir sensations that were both intoxicating and alarming to Ella. As they stepped into the quiet dark of her home, the anxiety began to grow. Who was this male she was about to submit to completely? What did she know of him really? How well would they live together? She wondered why these thoughts suddenly plagued her.
Laoch felt strangely exposed in Ella’s home. There were no rock walls or floor as in his caves. There was no male companionship, and no open sky above his head as in Jinetes. Had his emotional desire overcome his sense of reason? His mind chattered, but the smell of her body as she stepped in front of him, the feel of her hair as it brushed across his skin, silenced the voice of doubt in his comfortably numb head. He was intoxicated by her presence. Or was it the fruit? Or the tea. Or all of it? He didn’t care. He looked around at the room. In his home there were only necessities. Tools. Weapons. And his instruments for celebration. His clay flute, his drum. Now his eyes fell to the animal skin that lay across her bed. It was beautiful and yet how he did not even know how she came to own it. Small clay pots cradled burning incense, and there was a low table with some small boxes on top. How could he ever make her happy in his homeland? In his stark cave… Would she even want to leave this place? His thoughts were ended abruptly as his skin was seared-her hand on his cheek.
“Where are you now, my companion?” Her voice was soft and inviting. He felt he could lay his soul before her and know it was safe. Still, he found it difficult to speak from his heart just yet. He hoped this would change soon. Then he remembered something. The gift! He had been working on it since before the sunrise. He pulled his pouch from his shoulder, and laid it on the bed atop the soft animal skin-he definitely wanted to know the story behind this hide-and sitting down he hastily emptied its contents. The Warrior was not expecting to see the lovely stones-Naofa’s gift- that tumbled onto the bed of his new companion. Their bright colors cut accusingly into his heart like a knife, but he was not certain why. He quickly swept them back inside the pouch and out of sight, and withdrew the object he sought. A small, flat bag of woven grass was what he held in his hand. It looked so insignificant there to him; and he briefly thought perhaps he had been too hasty in the selection of the gift. Ella let out a small excited gasp at the thought of a gift from her companion, and he could not now disappoint her. This was all the encouragement he needed to stand and take her hand, placing the treasure within it.
“Laoch, it is so beautiful.” She spoke his name. It felt like rain upon dry hard ground to his soul and filled him with new enthusiasm. He laughed nervously.
“This is only the cover. The gift is within.” And he gently helped her to lift the edge of the small bag and spill its contents into her other hand. Out tumbled two wooden hoops, one larger than the other. They had obviously been carefully selected from wood limbs, cut and smoothed. Lovely as they were, she did not understand what they were. She looked quizzically at Laoch as she lifted the delicate circles from her hand. He smiled at her uncertainty for it made the gift seem much more fine to him then. He took the grass pouch, laid it on her table and turned to Ella, taking the smaller hoop in his own fingers. He hoped he had calculated well. Taking her left hand, he spread her fingers slightly and proceeded to slip the hoop around the one next to the last. He held his breath as he slid it gently but firmly down the length of her finger, hoping it would be a perfect fit. Another tiny gasp from Ella sent his heart into manic rhythms. He had to find his words now-it was so important.
“Ella, I do not say that all knowledge is mine. Often I feel I am without knowledge or wisdom. Your people believe we are great. Truly all that is created is great; but my friends and I have been given a task, as Light Bringers, to keep the vision of Love alive on Domhan. Still, we are humans, just as you are. I would like to promise that our life together will be all that we envision it to be. But there are forces beyond our understanding, even in the Eternal Realm. What I can tell you now is that I vow to keep you safe, and my desire is to give you all that I can without forgetting my purpose. No matter what happens in the cycles ahead, you must remember that at this moment, my heart and soul is yours. The hoop is an eternal thing, you see? No beginning and no end. This is why I chose it as my gift to you. I hope you remember my words every time you look at it.”
His eyes were so full of truth that Ella could scarcely breathe. Pulling herself from their depths at last, she smiled and looked down at the remaining hoop, now understanding what to do with it. She took it up, gently grabbed the Warrior’s hand and spread his fingers, just as he had done hers. It slid into place as easily as if it knew where it belonged. Ella always had a way with words but at this moment her tongue seemed glued to the inside of her mouth, and her brain was fuzzy with emotion.
“I will make you a promise, Laoch. I will go with you wherever this dream walk may take us, will make a home from rock and earth, will prepare your food, go with you in the hunt, and warm your bed at night. All I ask is that you be ever truthful with me. If we have nothing else perfect between us, let it be that we live our lives as the truest of companions.” Tears pooled in her dark eyes as she spoke, soon spilling onto her cheeks. Seeing the furrows crease the Warrior’s brow she quickly assured him. “Joyful spilling of tears is common among us here in Espera, I am afraid.” She laughed softly as he wiped them away with clumsy thumbs. “You must know that the others will want similar gifts to exchange.” She smiled and touched her hoop, pulling away from him. She turned, taking him by the hand, and led him over to the bed where they sat together in silence for a moment. Loach lifted her hand and began to trace a soft, slow line from the edge of the ring gently, deliberately down her wrist and back up her arm. Ripples of pleasure flooded her skin as he continued the path across her shoulder and down to the place where the beating of her heart was centered. His slight brush against her breast as he passed over set her insides to flame. He put his free arm around her shoulder as he pressed his wrist to her chest, so that now she felt his own heartbeat along with hers. Together they felt like drums in the night, beating a chant of private celebration. She leaned into him and lifted her face to his as she took his hand and moved it to where the ache called to her, beckoned him.
As they continued to work, they began to hum softly, soon affecting the entire group as every female joined in their gentle music, each adding her voice to the soft melody until soon it became a chorus-a lilting sound that rose above their heads and danced on the breeze blowing over the dense woods and into the village of Jinetes.
Now, at this time, I am urged to pick up the pieces of my humble story and try to present it again. If it touches even one heart, it will have been worthy of the work.
Why are we here? Where is Eternity? What is the plan? Is there even a purpose to all that we know of as a life? How do we win the struggle between Good and Evil? These very legitimate questions have plagued humankind ever it came into existence, erasing the knowing of the All That Is and propelling into the perceived journey “home”. What I have come to understand for myself may seem astounding to some, familiar to others and perhaps crazy to many. I only know I have found comfort in realizing the duality of our nature through seeing the ultimate way that everything is connected within the All That Is, and accepting that there must be an inevitable end to the illusion we like to call “life“. Still, there remain many unanswered questions, and I submit to you that this quest, this journey, the unanswered questions are indeed our reason for continuing the journey.
What of God, that elusive being known by many names and yet understood by so few? And what about the Creator’s grand ‘Plan’? What if there were no plan at all? What if existence was nothing more than an experiment-a grand dream, a hope that was born of a simple desire? What if all that truly exists is Love-an immeasurable, unconditional love that wants only to perpetuate Its own existence? Life thus was born of Love’s ultimate need to know itself and be loved in the way in which It was capable of loving, Its legacy continuing on in the human race as the created bear children whom they love unconditionally while basking in the glow of such love returned to those who created them, on and on with each new generation of Creators.
What if Eternity is not somewhere “up” or “out” there? I submit that it exists around and within us, but we have lost our memory of how to connect with it as we once did, our former clear, crisp perception now dulled to a faint whisper, too often dulled by the voice of fear and deception that plagues our fractured souls. This fracture was but a tiny crack as it was born; but soon fed by conscious thought, it grew into a gaping chasm that threatened to envelope the reason and hope of its host.
Good and Evil? What if this ancient struggle is not one that takes place in our outer world? What if there are no “good” or “bad” beings? I have come to accept the duality of my own nature, that within my soul lie the seeds of darkness that are eager to cloud my perceptions, to feed my fear of being without love, and to use that hunger to control my actions and reactions.
We spend so much of our lives running from our darkness, denying its existence and begging to be rescued by the Light, when all we need to do is to allow our inner Light to illuminate the dark recesses of our own souls, accept that we are not perfect within our human bodies, and know that in the eyes of The Creator we are perfect-now and always. Always, always, we are perfectly loved.
Will this knowledge repair humanity’s collectively diseased soul? Likely not. But would not the Unconditional Love of the Universe rejoice in the healing of even one soul? It takes but one flicker to light the darkness?
My work is not intended to refute, undermine or replace any religious doctrine. It is merely my own perception of Creation, my personal vision, as I weave my way along this path of illusion called life.
This chapter is the beginning of my book, but by no means the beginning of the story, for within infinity there is no beginning or end. This is but one legend as told from the perspective of its characters. I hope you find some bit of truth in the telling.
“Nothing real can be threatened. Nothing unreal exists. Herein lies the peace of God.” From A Course In Miracles.
The names of characters and places are derived mostly of Latin or Irish origination but all races came from one thought.
Forever Never/The Dawn of the Dream
by Cheryl Pennington
copyright words and images 2017
Forever Never/The Dawn of Illusion
The morning sun peeked relentlessly over the horizon as dawn approached and the world of Dohman blinked the night shadows from its heavy eyelids. A soft breeze skipped over the hillside with airy fingers that stirred the sea of grass and vine, beckoning all of life to join the illusion once more.Although light was still a shadowy thought away, the dark magic was already casting its spell over the waking life of the world, responding to the murmurs of that voice which had cast the cruel oblivion over it. Whispering, it seemed to call from within the morning mists; and in response to the powerful command from the ether, two of its most beloved stirred.
Their awakening was always the same. As her eyes fluttered open, the first breath of morning crossed her face, cool and fresh, and her confused mine groped for conscious thought. Lifting her face to the hint of sunrise, she blinked; and in that twinkling, she could recall everything. She understood all that had gone before and felt a flood of relief in the knowing. In that blinding moment of perception, the memory was so vivid, yet so mercurial. She let out a quiet gasp of comprehension as hope found her heart and anguish permeated her being, drawing the veil of darkness over her thoughts once more, obliterating her beautiful glimpse of truth. The gasp became a yawn as she opened her eyes to a new dawning of The Forgotten, denying the lucid moment the chance to become a memory in the dark recesses of her mind.
At the very same moment another was stirred by morning’s approach; and the callous hand of sorcery repeated its wicked performance. The smell of lavender on the early breezes nudged the sleeping male’s senses awake, urging him to feel her presence and embrace the moment.. With every sunrise and the brief union his soul was filled with peace, comfort and the kind of love only she could give him. As the earliest slivers of light struck the moldy ground beneath him, the weary Traveler summoned the familiar vision to his mind, thus weaving his own magic. How faintly the outline seemed this morning, even though he had traced it there with every rising sun since she disappeared from his world. Loveliness defined her as she moved through the recesses of his memory, a shadowy reminder of the innocent he used to be, of the trust he once knew, and the hope that now drove him onward. Yes…through the mists he could see long, dark curls of hair that seemed to have a life of their own when she moved. Her hand was delicate and soft as she touched his cheek and looked into his eyes with dark and tunnels of pure adoration.
The young male’s loving memory drew images of fragrant blossoms and joyful laughter. Their laughter. But now there was only he-alone with what was left of the perfect place he had known as home. Their most beloved Foirfeachta. Floating like a cloud in his mind drifted the faded image of a garden, hung low with vines and lush green foliage, where he had once known contentment; and completing this memory was her- the perfect form of femininity-and he trailing behind her, appreciating every thing about her-the color of her tunic, her head as she turned from him to wave at another! His eyes moved to the object of her gesture; and this was where his deepest pain began. He could only bear this part of the conjuring for an instant before dimming his mind to the memory. The pain cut like a dagger into his soul, threatening to tear him apart; but her presence found him again, hanging like damp air around his drowsy senses, calming him, urging him to keep hope alive.
“Hurry!” she whispered. “I wait..” She must be near! How could she not be when he could feel her and hear her very thoughts?
The young traveler struggled to create her face within his mind again as he fought the fog pulled her into the shadows. She looked so radiant as her lips parted to speak, to share a thought and a word of comfort. He could see her mouth form his name and waited hopefully to hear the music flow from within those red lips, his young heart beating wildly. But, as always, the fog faded to black nothingness that enveloped her face completely and smothering the sound that would have strengthened his lonely heart. In silence it cried. Then, creeping through the dark veil came the light, the harsh light that signaled a new morning. It was always the same. He marveled that he had never become accustomed to it nor been able to stop the painful, euphoric, devastating moment at the start of all his mornings, although he willed it so again and again.
The young Traveler lifted himself onto one elbow, gazing at his horse, now stirring in the morning light and thought, “Only Eternity knows what dreams such creatures have.” As he shielded his eyes from the glare of dawn he wondered how long it would be before the sun simply forgot to rise over their world, leaving them in darkness forever.
Snorting sounds as only a wild boar might make brought an end to the Traveler’s musing as, startled, he remembered his still sleeping companion. A few feet away lay the bulky form of the grumbling Cave Dweller who had now become his friend in these long days of searching. Disturbed by his own snoring, the stout one tossed on the bedroll where he lay and thrust his chubby fists into the air, swatting at the newly awakened gnats busily combing his bristly chin for abandoned crumbs.
The Traveler stifled a chuckle and reached for a nearby stone which he lightly tossed at his friend. It hit the restless male squarely on the chest before thudding to the ground where it rolled into a thicket of dry brush. The small giant jumped and yelped as he began swinging wildly at an unknown attacker, frightening away the gnats in a frenzied flurry. Now the Traveler was laughing heartily, finding relief from his sorrow, even if it had been at the expense of his riding companion.
“What, in the name of Mor, is so funny?” growled the Cave Dweller, rubbing his eyes and scratching at infinitesimal bites. His chubby hands were stained and his nails blackened from so long digging in the recesses of the caves. “Was that your idea of a ‘Good morning’? Rude…this is not how I am normally awakened. Now, my beloved Oth..”
The Traveler laughed harder now as he interrupted. “Ahhh…so it’s tenderness you prefer. I’m sorry my fat friend, but I have no desire to stir you with a morning kiss, such as your chosen one might. I can barely stand to sleep on the same hillside with you since you see fit to bathe only with the rise of a full moon.”
A loud grunt of indignation escaped the throat of the stout one, but he had no sharp retort for his tall friend while still in such a clouded state.
The Traveler had been exaggerating about the bathing but couldn’t resist the urge to goad his touchy friend. In truth, he was hoping to ease a bit of the other one’s loneliness with his teasing. It had been for the sake of his own best friend back in the land of the caves that this one had agreed to be a part of the search. The two Cave Dwellers had been inseparable from the beginning; and the one who remained back in their homeland-well-it was pitiable what had become of his mind since the Devastation. His beloved companion had disappeared over a bleak horizon, leaving her grieving partner with a new infant to care for, armed only with a broken heart and a handful of charred rock.
The Cave Dweller didn’t find the Traveler’s morning humor entertaining and shot the him a glance of warning, advising his friend that his own foul mood would remain until he had been properly fed.
‘Fine, then’, thought the Traveler as he gathered his tools, leaving the other to do his morning business. There were certainly fish to be caught; so he grabbed his line and clicked his tongue at the white mare now standing patiently near the edge of the trees, waiting to be led down to the river. She approached her master gently, nudging his hand with her warm, wet nose, and gladly accepted the piece of fruit he held out to her.
Precious treasure, he thought, as he surrendered the sweet treat to his loyal four-legged friend. If his traveling companion had seen this, he would have lost his head-and his temper. Giving food to a beast when he was ‘starving’! The Traveler rolled his eyes to think of it. It was of no consequence anyway, for he fully intended to bring back a nice string of fish to hang over the fire. This would at least ease the hunger pains of his friend. Sadly, there was nothing he could do for the male’s aching soul. Not until they found her, he told himself. If only…
Forever Never/The Dawn of Illusion by Cheryl Pennington copyright images and words 2015 As Naofa, Rith, Carraig and a fearsome friend make their way to the homeland of the strange humans who stumbled upon the Sorceress during a moment of … Continue reading Waiting/A Warrior’s Home/Forever Never