Posted by: scintillatingspeck | October 16, 2014

At the crossroads.

Where is my voice?  Is it aching in my throat, waiting to be jolted free of its fearful attachments?  I am speechless with Love, quaking at the sight of its leviathan proportions, a dragon coiled in the middle of the path.  Love gazes at me with pellucid, unhurried eyes, softening, even as the path turns into a writhing river of frantic eels.  There is no foothold here.  Was that the threshold I had thought I’d crossed, back there in the woods?  What sort of home did I believe was waiting on the other side? How many thresholds remain?  Do I ever get to arrive?  to stay?

If you hold my gaze I will help you stand, the dragon utters silently.

Our eyes lock.  I will trust you even though you breathe fire.  My feet find rocks to stand on, eels sliding around my trembling ankles.

There’s no remedy for who you are, how you see, your supposed lunacy, your attunement to dissonance and masked harmonies, your wandering heart.  I’m just here to tell you.  Don’t try to bargain with me.  I’m not here to take your soul.  The dragon sighs, tendrils of smoke rising from its nostrils.

Can you at least tell me which way the path goes?  Am I supposed to walk, or swim, or what?  What am I supposed to do with eels?  There’s nothing and no one to hold onto.

You can put your arms around my neck for a while, if it helps.

At the crossroads, holding onto fearsome Love for dear life, wondering if the solidity of paths was always an illusion.



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