It makes you wonder. Applies to women and children as well. This post is tongue in cheek and not meant to offend fellow human beans (this isn’t a typo) of the male gender. As a child I used to think tea cosies were things of mystery, especially the knitted ones. In fact I tried one on for fun…
The man hangs his head in weariness, sorrow floods a heart sore and beleaguered. Night after night prayers are sent to unseen powers; the hope being that these petitions will reach the ears of benevolent beings. In a world beset by hardship and bleakness, the prospect of hope, and of better times is all that sustains his soul.
His belly rumbles, complaining due to lack of food. The season of wild Summer berries is past as winter draws near. Much has been sacrificed in this wilderness, the tribe now lost to the passage of time. How many centuries have passed? Too many to count. The loneliness bears heavy on shoulders. Immortality comes with heavy penalties.
The Healer, for that is his soul’s mission, reflects on all that has passed in his long life. The gifts bestowed upon him have helped many but ultimately proved futile in healing the deep wound within him. Or so he believes. The very unseen powers he has focussed his attention on have diligently listened to each and every syllable. His guardian angel has stood watch over his seemingly frail body daily, willing their charge to keep hope and trust alive. An apparently difficult task even in the best of times, but now, beyond comprehension. Self-sacrifice has beset the Healer like an incurable disease, a trap healers are often prone to fall into.
The angel makes their presence known to their ward through a sense of great peace. The Healer wakens from their despair with surprise. Self-doubt and lack of faith have hindered communication between the two for some time. Yet, that hasn’t stopped the great love they have for each other. There are many in other realms that watch over humanity, protecting and guiding. They are ever present, watching our suffering and joys, unable to assist without our consent. He sighs, lamenting his lack of action.
“All you have to do is ask for help, I have always been around you” the angel gently states.
“I know but I have felt unworthy, trapped in inertia, perhaps fearful of making changes” answers the anguished man.
The great being enfolds the man in light and sound, “wings” if you please. The intensity of love and comfort provides a healing balm to a soul that has been lost for so long. The brightest of light can be found buried within seemingly unrelenting darkness, as well as hope. The man feels his spirit strengthen, resilience returns once more. It is something of steel forged in the hottest of fires. Even shattered steel can be melted down and formed into a thing of beauty and power. “Remember this” the angel comments.
My entry for this week’s Mundane Morning Challenge. This was taken on a walk through woodland on Anglesey, North Wales. I like ferns and there were some lovely examples here. They are an ancient species and their presence in the woods evoked primeval times.
A sense of stillness and expectation hung in the air surrounding this part of the woods. Additionally the quality of light caught my attention strongly. I expected to see a relic of prehistoric times to emerge out of the bushes.
Landscapes, wherever they are, have unique ‘personalities’ much like people. To some this may sound rather strange, to others this may strike a chord. Where I live in North Wales feels quite different to somewhere several miles down the road nearer the border with England. It’s something you can sense in your gut.
Where this photo was taken was quite near to very busy traffic coming in and out of Anglesey. It felt relatively untouched, almost set apart from modern times, primeval.
Light and Shadow embrace, each emphasises the beauty of the other.
See how the silence holds the space, see how it flows in the grace of her limbs.
Shadow and Light, Light and Shadow, each woos the other. Draws in grace and beauty transcendence.
Speak what is in your heart they whisper, let it flow, join in the dance, utter words long hidden.
Lonely and embittered is the King of the Wasteland. Ruler over phantoms and of regrets, he sees little of worth including himself. How blind, how tragic.
I watch him tread the path well trodden. Deep are the furrows, in body, mind, and spirit. He perches on the precipice, unwilling to retreat. The breeze whispers, torments endlessly, carries the voices of those abandoned, those unloved.
We circle one another, my shield and sword at the ready. Strong is my resolve, harsh is my gaze. I shall not be cowed, shall stand my ground, shall challenge forthwith. Where is my compassion? Held in abeyance, held in Hope.
Be still and at peace I say to ruler of all and ruler of none. How his gaze falters, how his gaze darkens. The tears flow, they glint like diamonds. I say yield unto Love, yield unto Forgiveness. Will he listen? Will he speak?
Heal he must, rejoin the living. Discard hurt he must and notions of revenge, notions of anger. Free yourself, free the others. This I urge but will he listen? Battle he must the fears of his heart. Shadows past and shadows present stand in his path. They are but empty shells, dust filled memories.
He advances but I do not retreat, cannot retreat. How the wounded beast circles, aches to bite, aches to tear. His heart bleeds, his tears fall. Dare I wipe them away? Dare I soothe his heart? Both he and I must divest all that hinders, all that pains. Naked must we face the other, tread the path of freedom. How vulnerable we are, like newborn babies. Hush, hush the Mother whispers. She hears our cries and soothes our hurt.
At last the Sun rises, bringing Light into our Darkness. Yet the path goes on, beyond the horizon. Yet more we should divest, do so in the fullness of time. Gain illumination say our hearts, gain flight and freedom. Be at Peace one says to the other. Journey further, learn much. Part in humility, part in Love.
Something less intense than my recent posts (not to everyone’s taste admittedly). I tend to veer off at times, don waders, and explore the contents of the subconscious. There are fallen angels, ancient gods, vampires, and the infamous Watchers lurking in that landscape at the moment. You can see what I mean by intense! This feels like a time to explore hidden pathways. Being a lover of fantasy and gothic fiction it seems the perfect thing to do.
To lighten the mood and see in the weekend here are things historical, and archaeological in flavour. With a nod to Star Wars. Please enjoy.
We are what you name Watchers. You may ask what our purpose is and we will answer, “Watching you”. There are others less benevolent and these you must watch for humanity. You are gifted with free will, and as such we cannot interfere unless you seek our help.
Why tell you this? Our tale is one that does not end happily, at least for one of your kind. He straddled the Light and Dark, consumed by desires that condemned, and ultimately destroyed him. The vestiges of humanity vanished from his soul as did the lifeblood from his veins.
The bridge between conscious action and blind instinct is a narrow one. He fell, rushed headlong into the abyss. We counselled him but he did not listen. Even though he called us. Such hubris!
An ancient evil heard his cries, opened the gates of no return. She seduced, played him like a lyre, brought forth sweet, sweet music. Then, she feasted upon this prize. For an eternity they lay upon cobwebs and veils of Shadow. Pleasure upon pleasure both sought and received. Such deception she rained upon him until the moment of annihilation.
It was done. We were too late. Another soul was obliterated from memory, imprisoned in her vaults of terror. This is his tale:
I asks what he’s seeking. He pauses, giving much thought before answering. Eternal Life, regeneration, passion, love, and perhaps even power.
I read his thoughts, seeking the truth of intentions. What he desires to embrace is total and utter annihilation of selfhood and existence. How little he understands the path being sought.
This human is intoxicated with the concept of life eternal, but sees little else beyond the shadows and nullifying emotions. The ones who look for the vaulted mansions of the undead come away with only dust filled minds.
The red and black contain a myriad of mysteries. Yin and Yang, blood, power, life, and death. These are the mysteries he seeks but has little understanding of. Those who pass beyond the shrouded doorway are blessed indeed. They see past veils of illusion, into worlds glimpsed in dreams and nightmares.
What strong limbs you have sweet one, and skin of honey. How his hunger gnaws away at manhood and mind. Soft breath, such soft breath. Dear, dear human! Should I admire your temerity in even approaching the gates of my temple? We watched your birth humanity, and cursed the day you drew breath.
To enter into the darkness is folly I tell him, but does he listen? No, he is beyond redemption. This I expected. What a distraction he will be.
‘Kiss me’ I cajole him. How easily he succumbs, pliant like clay in my hands. His lifeblood races through veins, flesh and bone. It calls to me, sings to me.
Your scent intoxicates me, it calls to mind incense offered in my temples. Night blooming Hellebore, sandalwood, cedar, and opium poppies. See how he murmurs, yields to my ministrations.
The sun shall not rise for you again dear human. This is the twilight of your existence. The light fades soon from his green eyes, gone, gone. He sleeps now.
Is this the end you ask? Not quite. In the depths of his despair did he call out one last time to us and we readily answered. Do not be quick to mock, thinking our words reflect mere sentimentality and wishful thinking. The most precious part of this doomed soul we saved. His tiny spark we gathered in love, for the ancient one could do little to stop us. So did the hellish gates of her temple close, until the next time Nameless One. We wait and watch. So, what are YOU seeking?
What is this place between? A state of mind or a state of being? One stands yearning, the other spurning. The space between is heavy with meaning.
Matter looks on, eyes blazing, heart beating. Spirit responds, utters softly, remonstrating.
He breathes on skin, fingers trailing. Her eyes close, senses flaming. She reminds of unions past, of times of ecstacy and of pain. Hands cup face and lips seek lips. What is unfolding?
He is Sun and She is Moon. Reflecting and absorbing. Spirit infuses Matter, shapes and moulds, gives love freely.
Human and Divine co-mingling, Spirit and Matter re-uniting, seeking fulfilment and illumination.
They are in the place between. A space withdrawn, held in abeyance. Filled with possibilities, touched with oracular truth, touched with starlight. Touched with Love.
All proceeds from the divine Lotus,
Light issued from the First Womb.
Enfolded within is Child transcendent,
divine blueprint, whisper of dreams
unfolding. Risen Sun.
Night falls, Sun is setting. Light
descends into Darkness, Wisdom
withdraws into Silence.