Indigo called deeply, and
there within the
silence of the autumn rain - response -
a seagull glided o'er the many stages
of their pain; rain rushing off the melding
of its feathered flight divine; gliding through
the veils of the storm as if it really weren't
falling there at all.
The air was free and loving,
He breathed, e'en as he beat his wings,
reaching higher than he'd ever dared
to fly before - above the stormclouds
gathering for them. Another, then another
and another - beat of strength within
his practiced wings - achieved
the breaking through.
Oh light! The moon was
almost at its full. Bright, the starry firmament
his faith had always held as living truth.
Echoes calling, faintly at the first. He
looked, yet could not find it's living source.
The cold and his exhaustion tried to bring him
down again. Yet something in his spirit
still refused that he succumb.
For he had reached and
crossed that night
unto the other side of being. A spark, a waving
particle of recognition, kept him moving on
within its fire and its inspiration. Undefined,
perhaps forever indefinable in terms of roots
that sought their sustenance so deep within
a mass of breathing land, he knew
beyond all doubt, that this was the one
and only space where he was meant to be.
This was the dream that
through all too many vagrant nights - and
it was happening in all reality right now.
He seized this moment in his memory
and yet beyond; for all he'd ever known
to be, lay in the source of this outstanding
mystery. A hero of poetic fields,
yielding, at last, to destiny.
He could, he never would
to break these links, this chain - that chose
his being as its home and living proof of life
in evolution. Primitive, almost in savagery,
he reached into the depth of all he was to take
another stroke of wings and rise again, and yet
again. And then the glide he'd hoped for all his
life. For here within the heights, timelessness
became the only state of consciousness.
Ecstasy, oh feel of this
eternal bliss! At last,
transcendence came to meaning, in his ever
beating heart. Just then, a star he'd never
seen before, shot down and up and all around
his being. It was as if those mentors he had
known, had not quite found the words that
might express the utter relevance of this
experience; for this was more than even
lover's lore had ever come to sing within
the magic songs of bards.
Infinity, much more than
might express; there within one tiny form -
mere grain of sand 0upon eternal shores.
Jonathan, they named him, but only in his
seeming disappearance - yet ever would
he really be the flight of every spirit
? Michaelette ?
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home . . .