Eden regained

(redux)

Audio version of this blog may be found Here (warning, external link)

Alternative host is Here

When last I saw her, we stood in Eden, the waxing moon hung alone in an indigo sky, solitary and shining, it's pits and crevasses clear to me, standing so far from it and looking up at it and connected to it, for it shone down on the flat land, illuminating the tall, willowy grasses that yielded easily to the cool and gusty wind that passed across the parched plain. That breeze carried on it's invisible wings innumerable lightning bugs, each a miniature sun that went swirling and dancing and seeming to take delight in the tangible pleasure of the evening's calm. I went to the sad little rise and reached up, stretching to my limits to try and absorb it all and remember it and failing, I sat and simply let the wind rush over me, the low and constant whistle whipping past my head and I was a stone among the grasses; where they waved, I was unyielding. And so she left.

And so she left, leaving me bereft of her wisdom and scent and knowledge and laughter.

And so she was gone, and me a crumbling ruin, a wreck and useless. I was derelict, and naught would draw me from my heady melancholy; not that bright moon, nor the dancing suns, nor even the ceaseless breeze that cast out endlessly across the land.

But she returned, for why I could not say. There was nothing to offer her, save myself, with hands rough from laboring, with eyes weary of the sad world, with the shattered remnant of a heart that last beat when she left. And yet, she returned.

And with her came Eden again.