A Wave of the Wand
A wave of the wind
the weather blows
again and again.
The creatures gather
in nests of feather
to weather the storms
that must begin.
And brave the souls
who hearts repose
in the glitter of illusion
to show the way.
For they are soldiers
great and bolder
who will one day unite
man who has gone astray.
Cherishing thoughts strewn like cherry petals in a Japanese
orchard, fluttered about Lovelight's mind as she looked at old photos of her
grandparents when they were young, then at them again in their older years. How
time does change one, she thought, and yet though they were much more worn and
frayed by the years they had lived, their hearts had grown stronger and their
love as well. She vibrated with the thought of their kind words and soft
caresses when she got lost as a child and couldn't find her way. They were
always there to help her summon up the courage to once more get on her feet and
do the right thing, even if it hurt like hell.
She laughed at that thought.
Courage was like a road that split a thousand directions.
Make a choice, and then take the consequences.
Just like today. She sighed, and then swept her golden hair
back from her eyes so she could focus on the tall dandelion leaning towards
her. She was seated in a yoga position on the lawn of her grandparents, her concentration
on the tinder feather like stamen that would float away with the slightest
breeze, or breath from her is she wasn't careful.
She closed her eyes and held her breath, then centered her
consciousness on a tiny pearl she imagined to be in the center of the
dandelion, hovering on the tender stamen, as delicate as a feather, but
grounded in a kind of wispy white light that clutched at it from all sides. It
was a flower of Light. A feathery wand that she could blow away with her
breath, or if she could gain control over her thoughts, wield it like a wand of
power to concentrate her spiritual powers.
She had learned a lot in the last year or so. When she first
saw the flower fairies, she had learned all too soon who she could talk about
to, and who not. Her mother listened. Her grandparents listened, but only her
mother understood, then one day as she had been playing soccer with her
girlfriends, she had kicked the ball off the side and it had landed in the lap
of an elderly gentleman of Chinese ancestry. He had caught it on a finger and
it was still whirling on the tip of his finger when she approached him to take
it back.
"Life is a delicate balance of power and strength,
Light and purpose. Both are necessary to function. Both are necessary to
achieve what is real in life. What has true purpose?" Then he had gently
slid the ball onto her outstretched palm where it continued to spin.
"If we stay focused on what is good and right, the ball
of our life spins effortlessly with direction and hope, but..."
She felt her mind drifting. The ball sputtered awkwardly in
her palm, the dropped off.
"But if we lose our direction..." He gestured to
the ball as it bounced down the bleacher seats back onto the field.
She had watched it bounce, and then turned to speak to him.
"But..."
But he was gone. Where he had sat was nothing. No one was
even near that thought, though some were looking at her a bit funny. Why?
When she told her mother later on, her mother had told her.
"Angels come in all shapes and sizes. The people couldn't see what you
saw. Most will not. Some will think you're crazy. Some will be jealous, and
some just plain...most just won't...even care."
She realized then that she was not only a girl, but
different in ways that most girls never could be. The older she became the more
she became sure that somehow she had a purpose in life. A direction that was
meant only for her.
She grew less resentful of being called Lovelight instead of
by her real name Cynthia. She actually came to love the nickname, and would one
day as she grew older actually make that name legal, even though she didn't
really have to.
She felt the pearl in her inner eye's vision begin to melt
and open up like a thousand petalled lotus, revealing layer after layer of
delicate pink throat, until when it was done she saw a tiny star floating in
its throat.
Her vision zoomed into that star, and it was as if she were
being gently lifted by a gigantic hand of great warmth and tenderness.
And as quickly as the vision had come, it fled her, leaving
her feeling alone, yet not alone. She opened her eyes and saw the tiny feather
stamen bursting into the air, liberated by a sudden breeze that had blown in
from the south.
She rejoiced in the freedom of the dandelion as it dispersed
its seeds across the void of time and space to replicate itself somewhere else
and begin the cycle and recycle of life and death as effortlessly as a potter
turns a clay wheel to churn out his pottery.
She smiled and climbed to her feet.
She stretched her arms, then turned to go back into her grandparent's
house, feeling refreshed and someone contained, as if all of her had found a
kind of peace lacking before. She still didn't know what her purpose was, but
she knew that every time surrendered her fears of being the thing she feared
the most, she came closer to becoming the thing she desired the most...a true
Light to all those around her.
Some would call that faddish, or stupid, or cultish, or a
number of ridiculous things, as if being kind and generous were sins. People
had lost their way in so many directions she realized, and if she wasn't
careful, she too could become one of those who had held the Wand of Light and
thrust it from her, believing that life was just about taking what you want and
to hell with everything else. It wasn't. It never was and never would be.
She smiled. Yes, it was going to be a great day. A very
great day indeed.
"Who are you?" Whispered the breeze.
"I am myself." She replied.
"Who is that?" It asked.
"Lovelight." She answered, truly believing it.
Satisfied that the only answer she need ever give was the true feelings of her
heart and soul and that everything else was just static on the TV screen of
life.
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