Tuesday, May 24, 2005

Carried Beyond

An occasional cricket chirps and wings can be heard to flutter once and again as thin, flowing veils dance gracefully. It is evening in the desert and though I remain alone there is a mystical closeness that in the warm breeze that moves around me. If I listen it speaks to me of far away lands, future promise and present hope. I close my eyes and the ages of the place where I stand pass before me. Centuries of years this ground has stood and this wind has blown. Empty and open desert, a valley laid out before the feet of mountains, no less friendly for a lack of those things to which so many of us cling, and far more in providence and care than most will ever wonder to consider. Workers come and buildings rise, more noise to fill the evenings of inhabitants yet the wind remains, full enough to fill a universe for those who would still themselves to listen. Ages will pass and times will bring their change and in absence once again she will remain enough.

But now is not yet then, if ever it will come, for although she holds the ages she speaks most of all about these days. Days of noise and perpetual disturbance. As one afraid of calm they live by continuing ripples, always tossing pebbles for fear that distraction would end and some, who desire calm, now cannot find it for all the stones they hold in their arms fall one by one into the water whenever they try to turn or move. So it is that they spend many times frozen, hoping for calm but unable to ever see it; their very existence preventing the water from coming to rest.

The breeze speaks to me and carries me across this world to exotic places. Places far and away from the lands where I am most familiar; glowing lights fill city evenings and life is filled with flavour. Dancing colours both vivid and sultry celebrate and even the air can be tasted; spices and scents in an aromatic life.

Music rises from every corner in great diversity yet telling the same tales, and folks gather in homes away from the familiar wintry old man. Bolder tastes, uncaring of nuance enjoy the bigger savours of the pot yet colours are sharper and more subtle. Lighter, bluer yet very strong and purposed. Her eyes are ice on fire and she is excitement and joy in pure form, unrefined.

Deep and low and earthy, shadows are more common than light as trees pillar life. Their leaves are rich and thick but unassuming and looks are dark; a mystery it would take a life time to unfold, if ever he would let you in. Existence is his own and he cares not for what is outside, whilst beneath the walls of silence and difference, there is a universe of being and passions run deep although never we may know it.

Coming back to the closeness of my desert room still she speaks and the veil dances in her presence. The breeze remains, and she whispers to me to spread silence, to bring quiet. She would whisper to all of calm and peace and truth. She would still the pool, if they ever gave her time. To listen. To speak.

Life is in this world, and time is her servant accomplishing tasks given to him from when he was created. She lingers now to bring herself into all those whom she created that she might have the joy of the fullness of her creation and they the fullness of life.