The Diary of Queen Mothy |
The Analysis of the Earth written @ 7:59 PM on August 12, 2002 When the rain came on the lake today, it was like a million silver dollars danced on the water's surface. A cool breeze came in from the west and turned over the leaves of all trees, which seemed to have their own personalities, their own stories to tell, as a slow haze rose from the lake, giving the world a wilder depth yet untouched. The white birds stirred in the grasses and took to flight. Against the hazing wild backdrop, it seemed like a world out of Tolkien for only a moment. And then it was remembered that no one in this world believes in magic anymore. It was like the air itself was living. I now understand why some people think the wind whispers. Something deep within my being said, "The rain was inevitable. But the real storm will pass." And it did.
The trees hung curiously over the roads and hidden pathways. No, perhaps they were silently encroaching onto the thin ribbons of land taken from them. Yes, the wilderness was definitely invading again, coming back with a silent force that always prevails over the work of mortality. It was like the trees thought this mortal would not notice, like most mortals tend to ignore them. After all, it is easy to understand why human beings breathe things to simplistic oblivion. Life truly is too short to wander without a plan, and they attempt to cram what they will into a lifetime to make it "complete" and "constructive." To me the trees were the truth. And the lake. The white birds, the haze hovering above the water, the way the wind hissed over the grasses. That is what is complete and constructive. That is what endures. The individual trees do not last forever, and perhaps a thousand lifetimes from now that lake will not be there, but their memories live on in the wind, more so than the work of mankind. "So much of life in its meshes..." Above the clouds rolled on. The rain went off to anchor life to other lands. The lightning never came. Puddles gathered in the asphalt, turning the road a deep shade darker. The glaring sun returned, though the lake retained its steel gray reflection of the sky. Rain drops hung off the meadow grasses backed against the younger trees and the hedges. Somewhere in this ultimate silence a robin called. It was a realm my heart was moved to explore, but I do not have that freedom just yet. But somehow I feel that if I do not climb the gentle forest cliffs rising beside the lake, if I do not seek out the beaten paths now, I may lose my chance later. That is how wild the world is, I now see. That is Earth's paradox. And tonight I pray that the skies are clear, for the heavens are chanting something deeper, truer than the earth's song. The heavens I do not understand as well as the good earth, though many poems and mortal works of honor have been composed in the name of the stars, both falling and spinning. Their melodies are intricate, its harmony without patterns. And yet a higher truth dwells somewhere in its greatest boughs. I am an admirer of the stars. Venus is very vocal when she decides to contemplate the decisions of the mortals who speak to her, giving them advice where needed. And the other planets tell us to stay the course. But I have to admit that I prefer the earth, because while the skies tell us to stay the course and remained focused on the lessons of constellations, Earth does not have everything figured out, Earth has a many-sided personality and faces that never stay the same, Earth is at the mercy of the heavens when all is said and done. And that is not an inner reflection to my being. That is something, a Truth perhaps, which I do not understand.
A Bit of History ~ And Onward! L'Amour Toujours! - August 08, 2005 |
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