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A Tale Of Eternal Memory
Chapter Fifteen.
She has not called out to me lately....her spirit grows distant, so that the radiant source I draw from her well is tainted by the shadow of her silence, her absence.
Afflicted by a state of reoccurring rejection, I am forced to dance with the demons of Doubt, Failure, and Illusion.
As we dance, these demons whisper to me a tale of a Maiden's sorrow, and a Mother's sacrifice, and a Crone's harsh appraisal.
I tell these demons that they hold no power over me, for I am a son of the Sun, and my spirit is eternal.
I tell them she is mine, she is real, she is truth.
The growling and malignant laughter of the demon, Doubt, attempts to blot out my voice of reason.
"She does not belong to you", the demon triumphantly declares, "for she does not believe in you."
Those horrible bewitching words echo through the chambers of my mind, as I review the complete memory of my journey with her.
Before my eyes ever touched upon her magnificent mortal form, I heard her name falling from the judgmental lips of ignorant kitchen wenches.
"Who is this Maiden of the Spring?", I wondered, "And why must she, in her absence, suffer such worldly condemnation?"
And so the first time that the mere utterance of her name touched my ears, I experienced a curiosity for her mystery.
A simple curiosity, for the greatest mystery I had ever been deemed worthy to uncover.
The first time my eyes happened upon her glorious form, I saw the sleek and gently curved frame of a dancer, with hair like a summer's harvest, and eyes like a summer sky.
Her spirit was like the refreshing sensation of a desert rain, most unusual to the senses, most natural to the Soul.
When I spoke to her she smiled at me, and I saw the first reflection of her identity.
"She is a Wildflower." I told myself.
"She is the brightest blossom in the garden, and all other blooms must live in the shadow of her radiance."
"She is a flower, and I am the sun who shines down upon her."
"She is the reflection of my will, the mirror of my imagination; I am the projection of her will, the reflection of her imagination."
"My Way is her Will, her Will is my own; my Will be strong, her Will be done."
I followed her into her world as I once followed a pale roebuck into a thicket, as I once followed a rainbow across the sands of Time.
As she pulled me deeper into her world, I discovered that its inherent design had shaped the pattern of my existence.
In the moon of her namesake, I sacrificed her spirit to live in the Great Dream.
Yet I am the gathering storm, and my will broke through the clouds of the illusion and found her dancing in the sky to the song of my lightning, the song of my thunder.
The moon of my birth and the moon of her birth are separated by a solitary and sorrowful moon: the moon of her namesake.
Indeed, together we are the spirit of the spring: the life found in a floral-scented breeze, or in the song of a bird, or rustling leaves.
When I was loosed from the Labyrinth where time is all there is, and there is no time at all, I was reborn into the world during the Tide of Snow Moon, the Winter Solstice, the Long Dark.
I am the sun, and the sun is born in the winter.
I was reborn in my thirty-second cycle: three for the Goddess, two for the God, five for the unification.
She, being my opposite, finds her rebirth in the reverse cycle of mine own, her twenty-third: two for the God, three for the Goddess, five for the unification.
We are opposites, yet we are one and the same.
All shades of the rainbow emanate from three primary Cosmic Colors: Cyan, for the seas and skies; Magenta, for the fire and earth; Yellow, for the joyful spirit resting in the center of our Oneness.
My shade is Magenta: the red seas and sunsets painting her secret world.
The Red Eye, the Red Wanderer: I am the fire of the sun; I am the red of fresh roses in her fields and meadows; I am the red of the Hawk; the red of the Dragon.
Her shade is the combination of the seas, skies, and spirit of the world: her color is green, for she is the Mother, she is the Earth.
All colors have an opposite; contrasting colors, yet completely complimentary to each other:
Magenta and Green, Cyan and Orange, Yellow and Violet.
I am the Sun and She is the Earth.
I am the Rain and she is the Wind.
And our Spirit is the Creator of the World....
© Leonard Rocco Grillo
She has not called out to me lately....her spirit grows distant, so that the radiant source I draw from her well is tainted by the shadow of her silence, her absence.
Afflicted by a state of reoccurring rejection, I am forced to dance with the demons of Doubt, Failure, and Illusion.
As we dance, these demons whisper to me a tale of a Maiden's sorrow, and a Mother's sacrifice, and a Crone's harsh appraisal.
I tell these demons that they hold no power over me, for I am a son of the Sun, and my spirit is eternal.
I tell them she is mine, she is real, she is truth.
The growling and malignant laughter of the demon, Doubt, attempts to blot out my voice of reason.
"She does not belong to you", the demon triumphantly declares, "for she does not believe in you."
Those horrible bewitching words echo through the chambers of my mind, as I review the complete memory of my journey with her.
Before my eyes ever touched upon her magnificent mortal form, I heard her name falling from the judgmental lips of ignorant kitchen wenches.
"Who is this Maiden of the Spring?", I wondered, "And why must she, in her absence, suffer such worldly condemnation?"
And so the first time that the mere utterance of her name touched my ears, I experienced a curiosity for her mystery.
A simple curiosity, for the greatest mystery I had ever been deemed worthy to uncover.
The first time my eyes happened upon her glorious form, I saw the sleek and gently curved frame of a dancer, with hair like a summer's harvest, and eyes like a summer sky.
Her spirit was like the refreshing sensation of a desert rain, most unusual to the senses, most natural to the Soul.
When I spoke to her she smiled at me, and I saw the first reflection of her identity.
"She is a Wildflower." I told myself.
"She is the brightest blossom in the garden, and all other blooms must live in the shadow of her radiance."
"She is a flower, and I am the sun who shines down upon her."
"She is the reflection of my will, the mirror of my imagination; I am the projection of her will, the reflection of her imagination."
"My Way is her Will, her Will is my own; my Will be strong, her Will be done."
I followed her into her world as I once followed a pale roebuck into a thicket, as I once followed a rainbow across the sands of Time.
As she pulled me deeper into her world, I discovered that its inherent design had shaped the pattern of my existence.
In the moon of her namesake, I sacrificed her spirit to live in the Great Dream.
Yet I am the gathering storm, and my will broke through the clouds of the illusion and found her dancing in the sky to the song of my lightning, the song of my thunder.
The moon of my birth and the moon of her birth are separated by a solitary and sorrowful moon: the moon of her namesake.
Indeed, together we are the spirit of the spring: the life found in a floral-scented breeze, or in the song of a bird, or rustling leaves.
When I was loosed from the Labyrinth where time is all there is, and there is no time at all, I was reborn into the world during the Tide of Snow Moon, the Winter Solstice, the Long Dark.
I am the sun, and the sun is born in the winter.
I was reborn in my thirty-second cycle: three for the Goddess, two for the God, five for the unification.
She, being my opposite, finds her rebirth in the reverse cycle of mine own, her twenty-third: two for the God, three for the Goddess, five for the unification.
We are opposites, yet we are one and the same.
All shades of the rainbow emanate from three primary Cosmic Colors: Cyan, for the seas and skies; Magenta, for the fire and earth; Yellow, for the joyful spirit resting in the center of our Oneness.
My shade is Magenta: the red seas and sunsets painting her secret world.
The Red Eye, the Red Wanderer: I am the fire of the sun; I am the red of fresh roses in her fields and meadows; I am the red of the Hawk; the red of the Dragon.
Her shade is the combination of the seas, skies, and spirit of the world: her color is green, for she is the Mother, she is the Earth.
All colors have an opposite; contrasting colors, yet completely complimentary to each other:
Magenta and Green, Cyan and Orange, Yellow and Violet.
I am the Sun and She is the Earth.
I am the Rain and she is the Wind.
And our Spirit is the Creator of the World....
© Leonard Rocco Grillo
