Night Falls....January 30, 2000

Night Falls....January 30, 2000

Night...

As I listen to the haunting sounds of Loreena McKennitt's Book of Secrets, I ponder what is transpiring beyond the darkened glass of my window, past places that I can readily see, where on the other side awaits the vastness of my imagination.

It dawns on me that night time proffers the brightest spotlight on who we really are.

A preponderance of my waking hours have been consumed by wee hours this weekend, as I scrounge blindly around the recesses of my mind looking for sanity, and those of my heart searching for a reason to care.

Life does not bode well for The Goddess and me.

After spending an exorbitant amount of time Thursday and Friday in discussion with her, and with other trusted counsel, I felt confident that all would be well.

Nothing is everything in the reality of The Goddess. The smallest crack is a fault, whose rubbing together means peace is neverlasting. Woe be to me for making such declaration in the wake of yet again seeking shelter.

I did not sign up for this that warm day in September when I lent my heart out once more. It comes back to me slashed and bruised, perhaps beyond resuscitation. Scars take much longer to heal, especially if the flesh is never completely restored to begin with, and the bright, rosy pink hues turn various shades of gray.

Each time I hear, "Things will get better, I promise...", I crawl out from the security of my shelter, only to be battered with a more intense storm. Showers that become torrents reduce forts to lean-toos.

Mere survival becomes imminent.

The roof of my lean-to now presses down on my neck, for raising my head has not been possible for hours. I see with a stiff turn that the supports are becoming swelled and warped from deluge after deluge, threatening to cave with a blanketing cascade should my shoulders give out from the weight.

Will I ever uncover?

....Blessed Be...