Circle of Life

I hear a voice behind me. It is Him. I turn around slowly, fearfully, believing He would reject me. He does not recognize me. He says a child was lost, the winds came one day in a fury and violently ripped her away, He was torn apart, doesn't know how to reach her. His petals shredded nearly to the core, so little left of him all I recognize is His voice, but I close my eyes and His spoken words comfort me so, He is my Father, my Mother, my Love and all I want is to be close to Him again.

I fall to my knees before Him saying "My Lord, My Master, it is me," but He cannot see or hear me. He is speaking to the Sun, the Moon, the Earth, whoever can hear having lost the ability to sense anything of this world, quickly moving to the next. I nestle my head next to what is left of him, and curl around him trying to warm and protect and shelter him as He had once sheltered me.

He cries out for forgiveness, asking for whoever he might have hurt to be healed, please let them know how deeply sorry he is, help them, fix any wrongs make them right. He knows mistakes were made. "Find my child and bring her back to the Mother who concieved and bore her in Her womb," he says.

He wants to do right by me but I cannot go back, my Birth-Mother would not know me I have been so altered by Him, by this life that I chose: my place is and will always be here. I try to comfort him and believe that somehow, he knows and is comforted. He quiets and seems to reach some kind of peace.

We stay entwined as many storms come and go, days and nights, sun, moon, gentle showers, thundering rain, time has no meaning. At some point I realize that He has returned to the Earth.

Beneath the place where He had been are four seeds, and a tiny fifth half-seed. The wind is howling, the clouds are rolling again, dust is flying through the air and the seeds will soon be blown away, scattered with the dust. There is a small indentation in the Earth around them, I try to cover them, hoping they will be protected from the wind that would seek to separate them from His garden. I pray the seeds will grow, that one or more of them, at best, all, will take root and become all that He had been and more, knowing that no two seeds produce the same flower, diversity occurs for a reason, without it there could be no movement forward, no growth, but believing that there is a great purpose intended for each of them and for theirs as the cycle of life returns.

I hug the ground, asking the Earth Mother to recieve me into her womb.

the storm

A storm is raging, the wind howling and rain and sleet and hail beats down upon me as I curl up to keep the warmth of my body contained, having no shelter, wrapping tightly around the flowerstem to keep the wind from blowing me away. A surge of static electricity flows through me as lightning strikes a nearby tree, the air is electric, I smell ozone and fire. Black clouds swiftly roll upwards and across the sky, pushed by the powerful winds. Out of nowhere comes a funnel cloud, across the horizon moving closer, ripping through a forest, knocking over a tree that is not so far away, then another, closer, branches, stems, tree parts flying through the air landing behind me, next to me, lodged in the branches of other trees, the tree that was to my left pulled out by the roots, the one in front of me, and then the stem, the flower, pulling in the direction of the funnel, I feel it lifting me off the ground, I hold on with all my strength for life, it wants to take me, then suddenly with a jolt the stem springs back and then is upright and I look up: the flower is gone.

I fall back, stunned. This is impossible. It cannot be. I cannot accept it cannot believe it. Always there, mighty, powerful, omnipotent, is, was, ever shall be, life as I understand it could not exist without His Presence: the structure He defined, the relationship of the Sun to the Earth to the Waters below and above, culminating in Him, then through Him into me. The richness, many levels of meaning, beauty, fragrance, depth, reaching through, wrapping in, through and around every part of my body, intertwining and weaving through my soul. He nurtured, warmed, bathed and fed me. Being part of Him is all I remember, all I have been or could be.

I believed that if I could muster enough strength to demand his attention, knock Him over, hurt Him, He would finally notice me and reach for me, if only to defend himself, and stop me because He is all powerful and can: I am so small, he is invincible, how could I hurt him really. He would reach for me, reclaim me, I would heal and we would be One again.

Now it can never be. He is gone forever. I am lost.

abandoned to die, I will live

I hunger, I thirst. The sun beats down and burns me, I have no shelter, no shade from the flower that is too high above to protect me. The heat is intolerable, my skin is burned and blistered and peeling and there is no respite, the sun continues to beat down upon me and I believe I will die from the pain. The wind comes, and rain, and it is cold and I hug the stem of the flower for warmth but it offers none. I try to drink from the rain but am so cold it is hard to drink, I can't reach the water, I'm so cold, freezing, shivering so hard that I cannot control my body to drink, and then it is dark, and the night grows colder. My body, weakened, spent, exhausted, gives up, I am too cold to shiver, blood flows ever more slowly, it is difficult to breathe, my heart nearly stops but then the sun comes up, my body warms and for a moment I feel alive again, though hungry, there is hope, there is a little dew on the stem, I drink and it's not enough but it keeps me alive. I am so hungry, so thirsty, and the pain, the pain, so much pain.

It begins to dawn on me that the flower isn't coming, the flower is not going to reclaim me, rescue me, I have been abandoned and left to die. The flower does not think about me, does not even notice I am gone. I cannot survive and the flower is up there, basking in the sun, all of his needs met, he is fed and watered and needs no shelter, he was created to thrive here he, who created me, molded me into the form that I have taken, created me to survive only through drawing my life from him, without him I cannot live. I am angry, hurt, in so much pain, and the pain and the anger fill me with new strength, resolve, and a reason to live.

I will live to destroy him. If he could create me, mold me into a creature that could not survive except through depending upon him, and then thinks nothing of abandoning me to my death, he must be brought down from the place he feels so entitled to occupy so high above ground, so close to the sun. He must die. I will not perish. I must live to see him die.

I cling to the stem, and pray

I cling to the stem. I know nothing but to cling to the flower, but he cannot be reached, he is so high, so near the sun he seems one with it. I cling to whatever part of him I can reach, holding on for life. Body and soul ripped apart, destroyed, and the hunger, no way to be fed, the thirst, tiny beads of water occasionally trickle down the stem but not enough, I am so thirsty, and the pain, so much pain. I pray the flower will reclaim me. I must believe he will take me back, nurture me back to life, heal me, allow me to be what he needs me to be, but with him, close to him. I know no other life, he owns me, he took me in the womb, trained me to be one with him, my body and soul formed around him, all of me is for the purpose of him, now he is gone there is nowhere to go and could not be. He cannot discard me or I will die.

rejected

I sway with the wind, unafraid, enveloped, warmed, penetrated and held by the protective presence that would cradle and bind me to himself. The storm builds and rages in its intensity, the flower bends, and suddenly, I am disconnected, the flower withdraws, casts me off, rejects me, and I am impossibly, inconcievably, falling, crashing towards the ground below, connection violently severed, the flower having torn away, ripping apart all it had been wrapped around and through within me: my heart, vital organs, circulatory system, lungs, throat, ruptured, mangled, and I plummet toward the ground below, unbelieving, bewildered, cold, frightened, lost, disfigured, disconnected, ravaged.

is, was, and ever shall be

I am one with the flower. His petals envelop, warm, protect, nurture and caress me. When I hunger or thirst he fills me with his life and the living water drawn through him from the source far below. He captures gentle showers from above to bathe me but closes his petals to protect me when the rain becomes too hard. He raises me to the sun and as the sun gives him life and strength he grows stronger and larger in me and through me. I must grow and adapt as all aspects of my inner self are filled, fed, and owned by this presence that penetrates, intertwines and expands through my inner body. My outer body, though naked, is safe, openly bathed in the light and warmth of the sun, pillowed and blanketed by petals, which though soft, close firmly to protect me from harsh elements and the coldest hours of night. Whatever I might have formed into without his presence in me could not ever now be, as I form and synthesize around him and him through me. I could not be complete without his presence nor could he be complete without me.

We are one, He is Master

I am the earth supporting a tree in a dark forest. The tree draws life from above and below, I counterbalance from beneath, anchoring him so he can reach the highest possible height above without any danger of falling, where unencumbered sunlight and air nourish and replenish him as I and the waters beneath feed him from below. He grows ever taller, leaves and branches multiplying as his root penetrates to deeper waters, tendrils expanding ever more and weaving, tying, holding me down to the place where I am free, defended from the wind and other outside elements that would try to erode and carry me away; they cannot succeed as long as he is intertwined with me, one with me, protecting me.