The Wind, knows The Way
( Home )
setting out on an August Morn, upon a Path barely revealed amid the waist-high grasses,
walks a boy, eyes bright with Promise, and keeping a determined pace, in hopes of
finding the source of the Voices, before the Noonday Sun found him, too far from
the deep quiet shade of his yard, now miles distant . . .
this, his third attempt, after brief and random excursions well within sight of Home,
was to be his most daring, for he had never ventured this far out onto The Downs alone
before, and without a single Cloud to obscure an endlessly pale-blue Sky, his loneliness
had become All the more Complete . . .
high Above, a chevron, small and dark to his periodic gaze, circling in long, lazy arcs,
flew an eagle, there since Daybreak when his Voyage began . . . He longed for just a
Moment, to share It’s Domain, to see with It’s Eyes, to know, All that lay beyond
his earthbound View . . .
the last Trace of a Morning’s Dew left It’s Mark upon his passage, leaving cool and
silvery Trails upon his skin, reminding him, of his thirst . . . yet, before his Thoughts
became a Wish, he heard The Sound of The Stream, running Somewhere, up beyond
a Rise . . .
as he slowly gave himself, to The Height of Wonder, The Splendor fell Away below him
to a wide and verdant Plain, a Valley, in The Sun . . . and there, standing for All to see,
standing along The Shores of The Stream, standing in The Light, of All Things Dear,
were The Lilies, with Hearts as One, singing, with Voices as bright as The Dawn,
and with the palms of his hands, he dries the Tears from his eyes and beholds
The Sight of Ten Thousand Angels, heralding The Return of Love Again,
welcoming him to Avalon, bathing him in Awareness, that Each
and Every One, knows he bears The Name, of Hope . . .
from Book I, The Ring ( First Light ) The Ninth DoveTale – The Windmills of Eden