In those moments of magick and nyd (as in ‘need’, the Runic inscription x), solace is often found in the tender embrace of a lover, or in the embrace of Nature – Water, trees, an open meadow – all supplying the harmony necessary for a fuller and more sentient ‘self-awareness’.
The Muse is continually moving, and even in the depths of despair or passion, has a shelter, those strong arms enfolding, and rests in peace.
Such is the desire and passion of us all, and it is there…if only one is aware.
Below is an excerpt from Tales of Love and Light:
~ The Cradle ~
In a cradle of pine…
Your heart and mine…
Here and now…and
(…) This Pine was special, not only for the sake of its size and girth, nor for his gentle movements, belying his natural strength and maturity, but by his acceptance, his natural proclivity to demonstrate protection, to instill peace and tranquility, letting the Wind sing through his hair, passing that simple vibration, passing on a unique and calming resonance, so often heard by humans – as the rustling of the Pine – that quixotic and healing sound, that melody of life, and the rhythm of each individual who, as it may happen, might seek shelter and solace, under his embrace.
Such was a young woman, fair, beautiful by all accounts, suitors and visitors daily making their intentions known, yet she remained, alone, deep in the recesses of her soul; not a tragic figure, exactly, but alone with herself, despite the smiles and laughter. There seemed to be something missing, an old wound perhaps, or the simple feelings one feels when, after the race has been run, again and again, seeks solace in the quiet arms of the wind, or the rustling of needles – the scent around her, the irregular surface of briars and sticks, needles and cones – all about her, as if a special place had been arranged, just for Her.
The Pine observed Her, he looked deep into her eyes, that deep and irresistible body of soul, trapped in a world of human conditions, and he marveled at the symmetry and perfection of this woman, this woman-child, with eyes as green as his evergreen hair, skin as radiant as the Sol, flashing off the jagged boulders and glimpses of standing water, shooting their rays in every direction, giving light to those who needed it, just like the deep pools of light held within that emerald sea, that love and essence of this woman.
He felt Her.
Heavy in his arms, he embraced Her, for she was fair, lithe, and of a nature, which was familiar to him, a swaying melody she had, deep within her. She would often sway with some hidden song, nestled, womb-like, in her essence. Sometimes she would sing out loud, sometimes she would hum a tune – but her essence always remained innocent, melancholy as she might be, deep within, she was who she always was: a sensitive and vulnerable bolt of lightning!
The Pine smiled to himself, as he sensed the deep vibrations of intentions held within the young woman. He moved closer to her, her body becoming slightly less rigid, as she was being seduced by sleep, that ever-present lover, always willing to embrace who it wills, bringing a certain degree of respite from turmoil, work, pleasure or pain. The Pine never slept, but was ever vigilant – he was jealous of the woman’s deep breathing, the satisfaction of dreams, of the encounters and conversations, which were often withheld from her in a waking state.
He knew She had a name for him – for herself, actually – but he did not mind, when she spoke of him, she spoke of the Cradle, of that warm, hospitable place – that place of strength and aloneness. She knew, however, that he was there, and she willingly lay, heavily, in his arms.
She had known, right from the start, that this Pine, unique to itself, was the one, which had sung the first Song – his essence deep, wide, innocent and strong – she knew she had been drawn to him, above all the others, and there were many, but it was the way he held her, the way he talked to her, the way he touched her.
The world was a busy place, inhospitable and demanding: He simply wanted to hold her, to love her, and let her rest.
In the cradle of his arms, she rested peacefully