Get it right. Get it right. She follows the stars into the night sky, the color in her world fading with the sunset, utterly aware of the emptiness of the universe. Deep breath, get it right. She is brutally conscious of the decisions before her now. One dream slowly, painfully dying like coals of the morning’s fire… one dream flaming into life, in full force, after the embers had gone cold. Which one is most likely to burn faithfully and steadily? Which one does she nurture and tend to? Either one is likely to die out, or both will. She’s been left cold beside a dead fire before.
As she travels the skyline road she is suddenly aware of city lights far below her, on both sides of the ridge... countless lights, numberless individuals, indistinguishable from each other. Her faith could as logically be place in any one of those small sparks as it could in any dream she might have, so why the stress over these choices? All seem as equally likely to meet her needs for warmth and light, or to leave her cold. Some people insist that the choice is already made, we just follow the path. She often isn’t sure about her path, or her dreams… so many times they have been broken. High on this ridge the wind blows dreams far beyond anyone’s reach, along with the fallen leaves of bronze and gold, scattered and shredded and sent scurrying over the edge, to float below with the sparks and the lights, often evaporating before they could be kindled into a flame in the shadows below.
Beyond the burdens of this terrestrial existence, she knows there are possibilities. Somewhere deep inside she knows there are still dreams among the stars, reflected below in the light and the embers of this world. Precursors and remnants, befores and afters… she simply doesn’t know where to focus anymore to find the substance that should fall between the beginning and the end. Knowing her purpose has never been a problem, even when no one else could understand what she was doing, she always knew, she was always confident in the steps she must take, in the direction she needed to move, her inner compass unfailingly strong and clear. Why the uncertainty after all she has accomplished, after what she has survived. Why the disorienting doubts? Why now?
She stops to watch geese in flight, in tight formation, some unseen yet unwavering connection holding them together. They glide low above the trees, unafraid of that which is unknown, unconcerned, given wholly to the ‘V’ and the movement. Silently, she asks to join them, to be swept up with the force of the group, to be taken in, to belong. She knows they are escaping a darkness too, following the light, the warmth, seeking a place more gentle and supportive of life. She wants to be warm again, to be held, to be part of something unspoken.
Leaving the lights of the city behind, she finds herself beneath a desert sky, engulfed by darkness, yet blanketed by the stars. They still take her breath away. Though she’s studied them for years they still have magic to share with her lost and wandering soul. How many times has she stood below them, asking for direction, for help? How many times have they offered comfort simply by their constant presence, their permanence? Tonight it seems like someone spilled the salt across the sky. She stands in awe of their presence, their ability to penetrate such a vast expanse of emptiness to shine in her world. She admires the nature of the light, the directness of purpose that keeps it on task, traveling beyond the life of its source to reach this place. She longs for such direction again... too tired to reach out, too disillusioned to believe it will come in its own time.
She returns to the mountain, hoping that if she climbs higher, towards the stars, she will gain purpose once again, direction. As the trees rise around her, the darkness gets deeper, heavier. The stars remain, but her view of the sky is limited, no longer a shimmering shroud, comforting her, surrounding her. A misty mask of gray begins to settle in, blurring her vision of the trees and the sky. She struggles to keep her eyes on the road, resisting the urge to search for landmarks, for guidance, trying to keep faith in the path she has chosen, trusting that it will lead her into crystal clear sunlight someday. Maybe that’s what’s wrong… her line of sight has been limited by pain or disillusionment, from many failed attempts which have left her broken, her dreams shattered in a million tiny pieces. If she could only gather them up once again, and fling them into the night with enough force to reach the stars.
As she travels the skyline road she is suddenly aware of city lights far below her, on both sides of the ridge... countless lights, numberless individuals, indistinguishable from each other. Her faith could as logically be place in any one of those small sparks as it could in any dream she might have, so why the stress over these choices? All seem as equally likely to meet her needs for warmth and light, or to leave her cold. Some people insist that the choice is already made, we just follow the path. She often isn’t sure about her path, or her dreams… so many times they have been broken. High on this ridge the wind blows dreams far beyond anyone’s reach, along with the fallen leaves of bronze and gold, scattered and shredded and sent scurrying over the edge, to float below with the sparks and the lights, often evaporating before they could be kindled into a flame in the shadows below.
Beyond the burdens of this terrestrial existence, she knows there are possibilities. Somewhere deep inside she knows there are still dreams among the stars, reflected below in the light and the embers of this world. Precursors and remnants, befores and afters… she simply doesn’t know where to focus anymore to find the substance that should fall between the beginning and the end. Knowing her purpose has never been a problem, even when no one else could understand what she was doing, she always knew, she was always confident in the steps she must take, in the direction she needed to move, her inner compass unfailingly strong and clear. Why the uncertainty after all she has accomplished, after what she has survived. Why the disorienting doubts? Why now?
She stops to watch geese in flight, in tight formation, some unseen yet unwavering connection holding them together. They glide low above the trees, unafraid of that which is unknown, unconcerned, given wholly to the ‘V’ and the movement. Silently, she asks to join them, to be swept up with the force of the group, to be taken in, to belong. She knows they are escaping a darkness too, following the light, the warmth, seeking a place more gentle and supportive of life. She wants to be warm again, to be held, to be part of something unspoken.
Leaving the lights of the city behind, she finds herself beneath a desert sky, engulfed by darkness, yet blanketed by the stars. They still take her breath away. Though she’s studied them for years they still have magic to share with her lost and wandering soul. How many times has she stood below them, asking for direction, for help? How many times have they offered comfort simply by their constant presence, their permanence? Tonight it seems like someone spilled the salt across the sky. She stands in awe of their presence, their ability to penetrate such a vast expanse of emptiness to shine in her world. She admires the nature of the light, the directness of purpose that keeps it on task, traveling beyond the life of its source to reach this place. She longs for such direction again... too tired to reach out, too disillusioned to believe it will come in its own time.
She returns to the mountain, hoping that if she climbs higher, towards the stars, she will gain purpose once again, direction. As the trees rise around her, the darkness gets deeper, heavier. The stars remain, but her view of the sky is limited, no longer a shimmering shroud, comforting her, surrounding her. A misty mask of gray begins to settle in, blurring her vision of the trees and the sky. She struggles to keep her eyes on the road, resisting the urge to search for landmarks, for guidance, trying to keep faith in the path she has chosen, trusting that it will lead her into crystal clear sunlight someday. Maybe that’s what’s wrong… her line of sight has been limited by pain or disillusionment, from many failed attempts which have left her broken, her dreams shattered in a million tiny pieces. If she could only gather them up once again, and fling them into the night with enough force to reach the stars.
