That far off shore...

Watching a brigade of butterflies, as swarms of clouds pass by. The words of many unanswered questions bounce around as I ask myself, "why?" Shadows dance, I feel the trance, as sunlight appears and vanishes. I feel hypnotized by sunbeams filtered through green leaves. They surround me, warm me and entice me. The cicadas hum and the bees fly by. I sit and stare blankly at the clouds and sky. The hammock in filtered sunlight, music in my ears. The embrace of the wind, comforting through the years. It speaks to me of being willing. Of trying something new. Of taking a chance I had not considered viable, when logic advises against it.

The ocean between our shores is vast and yet if I close my eyes, I am stepping ashore. In some dreams I am embraced as I enter the other land. In some dreams I am greeted by hostility or indifference. This makes the journey confusing. The coastline changes quickly. The sand bars shift. I see the wreckage of the crossings that came before. Stranded, bewildered. I try to avoid the reefs and find safe passage.

I am reminded by the songs in the wind that safety is not guaranteed, that disembarking in a strange land can hold danger. Like the songs on the wind, your siren song carries to my ears. Urging me forward with little heart gifts, kindnesses, passion, kisses, and desire. I disregarded the warning signs and ventured forward.

The kind, strong wind has now ceased. I am floating aimlessly. The shore, like a mirage, torments me, telling of love and laughter and of being sated and content. Yet in this tranquility, I am neither satisfied or content. So I pause, and wait for the return of the prevailing wind and trust that it will steer me in the direction I am intended to go. I do not know the outcome, only that I can not push the ocean. I can trust that all is and will be exactly as it is intended to be.

This thought brings me solace- that a spark has ignited a long dead torch. That torch was once used to light the sacred temple of love. And while the torch is lit and I see differently, the landscape is new. The priest of this realm is striking and short on years. He speaks a familiar language, and yet some words have seemingly lost their meaning in time. The temple is far off and overgrown. I hear of it's existence and feel the tug of distant memories. The priest plays his songs, picking at strings and pulling chords that sear my scared soul. Those scars are where the light enters I remember reading.

The ritual is underway. Silence prevails. No words are spoken and I grasp to decipher the meaning. My alms are accepted. My adoration seen. Passions ignited. And still there is a longing for meaning.

That longing brings me back to my ship. Sitting in calm water. Sunlight and supplies abound. I am in great abundance, even when my desire tells me otherwise.

My torch has been lit...