~The Winding Road ~
Sun kissed skin…
We begin again…
Here and now, and always.
The winding road, dusty and narrow, guarded by briars and creatures of the day and of the night, seemed to travel endlessly, the terrain broken only by few passerby’s, traveling singularly, in single file, or resting in the shade of an irregular stone, monument, or derelict tree, its limbs usually bereft of foliage, at least to speak of, and roots climbing from the earth, as if looking for water themselves.
Water, that elixir of life.
Water, that essence, which seduces all life, extends the hope of today, into tomorrow – that was the way the Elders had always spoken of it – and He was not of a mind to question the obvious for, like a comely, resilient and graceful woman, one that was able to quench the thirsty soul, who seduces with a glance, and supports the essence of a brighter future, was an essential part of life – both elements quixotic, currents running deep, making one wish to bathe in the simplicity of its design, its cascading influence bringing healing and peace. Yes, to live, to grow, to become what one was intended to do in life, one needed Water. To crown this life, this gift, with Rosemary, that essence of the sublime, was a mark of excellence, and He had long hoped for the delicate hands with which, he might exchange this votive of love and surrender.He was dreaming of water, deep and cool.
His head was supported, as his body stretched from a small outcropping of stone, on a smooth, by a somewhat indented shallow of a medium-sized soap-stone, which He had unearthed from the surrounding area of a large, if not also broad, Rosemary bush, growing wild at the side of a small Well of water, a placid and gentle reservoir of that elixir, which many had searched for, but had never found.
It was a magickal spot, the breeze undulating in bursts of unseen energy, as if the Goddess herself were moving about, caring for the place, and protecting those who, seeking solace, were attended to, and made the stronger and more regenerated than before. His dreams were of sprites and the spirits of the water, their fanciful faces and lithe forms, flittering between the twilight, and the sunrise, each happily living betwixt the earth and sky, each taking on the responsibilities each shared with both the earth,
and the spirit of the goddess who inhabited this place.
His eyes opened, slowly at first, as if his senses told him of a certain foreboding, or acknowledging a presence that, heretofore, had not been a part of this space with him, at least not of his invitation; but it was also a feeling of peace, of a glowing sensuality, a protective embrace – a woman, perhaps – for he did not feel the habitual hair on his neck standing, as if a clarion call of danger and emotion. This was of much different stuff.
His eyes becoming fully open, he looked about, and saw nothing but the small pool of water, just a few feet away from where he lay. Bringing himself up to half-posture, his legs a little cramped from the chill of the morning, he espied the canopy of stone surrounding the pool, their reflection making a irregular jaw line, as if the open maw was trying to say something to him.
He was thirsty.
But more, he was being impelled to the pool, like a siren, once acknowledging her song, becomes profound, and continues to sing and draw the object of her desires; this was the feeling, and it was deep and strong.
He came closer to the edge, and as he did, a question formed on his lips: “Why did She make such a strong impression on him?” “Why did the deep emerald gaze penetrate his very soul?” From the first, the intensity and passion, the vulnerability and innocence had held him; such sadness and pain he had seen, yet the beauty overwhelmed, the sun kissed skin, radiating a sexuality and sensuality that was much deeper than the songs
She sang to the passing crowds, entertaining and uplifting, as each was able to bear.
Much had transpired since that first night, and as the introduction had become acquaintance, then into more intimate, albeit irregular meetings, the story of a part of Her life began to become manifest, healing and trust beginning to develop. She was a bondservant, and was constricted by duties and ownership, having a master she had grown to love, and hate, as the prison had become a dungeon, not simply a pleasant and bearable bondage. It was none of his affair, but as she looked at him, she cried, invisibly, over and over again, seeking release. He had been resolute and stoic, his inclination, but not his nature, and had made it clear, at the outset, that He would bind the wounds, and aid in their healing – up to a point – and after that, He was clear that his heart would be open to much, much more.
Maybe it was his honesty, or his passion, but She had responded, and her skin cried out to be touched, and touched often, her lips trembled with passion and vision, of possibilities and release, and so the healing continued and, with time, passed into Him, unaware, vital and powerful – he asked the gods for guidance, and this led him continually into her path, unwillingly, but not. He looked forward to their private times, away from duties and obligations, and in the middle of the day, their intimate and public exchanges had been more intimate than any silken bed, had ever been.
Since that night, however, that exciting and passionate night, betwixt theEarth and Sky, both She and He, had embraced in a way that, for Him, had never been experienced before, the way the Elders, both the Mothers and Fathers, had indicated could, and should happen, between persons and lovers, which would begin a journey of enlightenment; the passing from one world to the other.
As the great White Mother hovered, peeking through the canopy of leaves, the goddess had looked down upon her daughter and son, and had inspired Her, as she had already seen this event in her dreams to move, back to back with Him expecting, She did not know, but through her intuition, as well as following a new sense of the unknown, Her dream had indicated that they should sit, and join, back to back, just as she had been sent in her dream; She was flowing with her power that nigh, trembling slightly, and seeing Him, tense and his power emanating around his body, but also sensing that He was closed and trapped, felt a certain compunction, a certain compassion, which She needed to share – and share they did.
As She had seen, they both turned to each other, back to back, and joined, at first, the upper body, touching gently but firmly. He felt the space between them at the hips, and wanted desperately to join both the lower and upper elements – then, in a flash, She settled, and all but thrust Her lower back into Him – and in an instant, a powerful and overwhelming connection, the serpents of life and spirit, coiling and uncoiling, wantonly, embracing and caressing the duality of consciousness and senses in a delicate and passionate embrace, fully satiating the entire panoply of senses inherent in the spirit and the flesh: His member, becoming engorged, radiating that energy, the primal energy inherent in his power, hard, as it had ever been, starting to recede within seconds, and as this passed, an energy of tremendous power began another ascent into this primal source, from the lower recesses to the mid-point, hovering over his heart, radiating such intense emotions that He started to shake. He grasped the outstretched hands that She held away from her body, and their fingers entwined, his grip hurting Her, he knew, but could not slack, and then his body began to shake in faster tremors, trembling from feet to head.
This energy, this sensuality, did not recede, but continued and remained, the senses becoming one, his face numb. He could not move. She turned, and faced His back and then, relying on a highly charged sense of intuition, touched Him. A hand at the base of the neck, followed by a touch at the lower back was sent deep within Him. When these two forces – intention and the power of the deep and resonant goddess power within Her were released – a rush, a waterfall of the deepest compassion, of healing, came over Him, and He began to weep, a deep and full release, like the greatest of sexual releases, but fuller and more expansive, and the tears continued to flow. Her Love, her intentions, of the utmost intensity, such as He had ever experienced, enveloped his very core.
He was, and had been, so seduced and uplifted, that it had begun, or simply added to, a full and complete regeneration of his spirit. His gratefulness was embraced by Her form, and tears of joy sparkled in the glowing emeralds of her eyes. It had taken a few moments of composure to return, and with a gentle goodbye, She had returned home. It had been days, and the effects of that night were still as powerful, but waning by degree, and He had begun to see this individual in a new way, as the depth of Her spirit emerged, which He had seen that first night – that Light in Her Eyes – and it all came back to him in an instant:
The signs have entered
Coming faster each day
Keeping apace, a hearty way-sign
Making me want to go…to stay.
Signs in the air
Deep in the Earth…
A sound, a splash perhaps, broke Him from his revelry, and he looked to the pool of water, just a foot away, seeing the fresh remnants of a circular center, like a rose, encircling itself, moving from the center to the broader expanse of the pool; he peered closer, into the center, a hypnotic feeling coming over him, and seeing a partial reflection, be gained the prominent position, leaning over the edge, to get a closer look at what drew him.
Instead of seeing himself, however, a comely face, smallish, split cheek to cheek, with a wondrous smile, tiny sparkly eyes of the deepest blue, radiating laughter and joy, piercing his very soul. “Who are you, and what should I call you,” He exclaimed! He moved closer to the water, his hand extended, but the tiny creature, a shapely female form, raised her hand, just under the surface of the water, to stop his movement; He pulled his hand away, and moved back on to the land fully.
Slowly, then, the most wondrous and beautiful apparition (for surely this was not real) began to rise from the now calm and serene pool, first the beautiful and shapely head, covered in hair the colour of corn, and as the body continued to rise, He saw that not a drop of water covered nor dampened her corn-coloured tresses, long and evenly wavy. She wore a tunic of white, with a golden sash around her waist, her shapely legs showing dimly, as the light reflected against the surface of the water, showing shapely thighs, and tiny feet – her size appeared to be around a foot tall, maybe a little more – and behind her, He witnessed an even greater marvel, as a pair of shimmering wings began to appear, rapidly beating, the wind it produced warming him, and chilling him at the same time.
He felt peace.
He called to her again: “What is your name and what do I call you?” This brought another smile, and in a voice that could only belong to the music of the gods, replied, “Dacia is my name, as I belong to the People of this land, an ancient and proud people, sharing this land with others, often called Keltoi, in the foreign tongue, yet is also a part of our beginnings.”
She flittered across the few feet of water, bringing a small mist with her, and alighted on his outstretched leg, barely making a physical impression for her weight. Fully beautiful, a full bodied woman, she sat down, just above his knee, and gently pulled her hair back, a Rose suddenly appearing, the colour of yellow, where she had tied her hair with something He could not fathom; she turned to face him and sang her question: “Who and what do you seek, and by what path are you willing to travel?”
It came to Him, immediately, and he replied, “I seek nothing, for I have my armor, my shield and my sword, although battered and dented it is, after such a long sojourn in the outer land, and I have come to this valley to rest, to live, and to learn.” The Dacian sprite (for after all, this is exactly what she was – a creature of the water of the pond, and a guide of the Goddess) moved from His thigh, and moved gently on her feet, and put her head upon the right shoulder of He who reclined before her, and sang again, “Then tired and worn warrior, seek you Love In such an immense and precarious land?”
He saw the intent of the creature, and composed himself, remembering the moments with Her, his muse, and replied, “Those who seek, usually do not find; and those who find, rarely seek.,” of which, Dacia, smiled and let out a smallish laugh.
He felt exhausted, and laid on his back, seeing the creature, and the sky above, and felt like leaving the earth, not caring, except for the shadow of Her heart, all around him – the beating of their Hearts, seemingly, for brief moments, beating as one – and the sprite came close, and touched his forehead, directly in the center, and offered a prayer.
His spirit soared, as the tenor of her song had changed, a deeper and more beautiful resonance than before, and he heard:
Son of the morning
In the dew and twilight
Shall Ye dwell until She comes to you
With gifts and Songs
A moment in time shall
pass between you
With a bed of grass and a canopy of leaves –
Of desire and change
And it shall make itself known,
For the path is
Yet has chosen you
He felt the gentle touch on his forehead recede, and then her presence, alarmed, he sat up quickly, but she was gone; in a panic, he jumped to his feet, and called her name, but she did not appear. For hours he looked for her and then, with a sigh, he composed himself, asked protection of the Goddess, blessed his resting place, and continued on his journey.
Copyright © 2013 Frank L. DeSilva
All rights reserved.
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