Came up to a pathway facing a domed, pillared open-aired temple-like structure. Heard voices in the luminescent dark; trees half-circled around the temple-dome branching outwards in a crescent, evergreen at centre and highest moving into deciduous towards the tails. The wind rustling through the trees, the temple-dome on a slight slant, not quite a hill, but smaller. The night sky painted in blues and violets and creamy black, the Moon illuminated as the temple sanctum chose. Cheerful voices and choirsong emit, extended by the sanctum.
I walk towards the sanctum, the wind cold and whipping my hair to and fro, forward and backwards and around and round. Two others join me, I hesitate and am reluctant as I move closer into heart’s firelights, they nudge me forward.
Small clusters of persons upon cushions and embroidered cords of silken gold threading; some are praying, some are humming, some recite, some are imparting what they’ve learned — teaching as teacher, and widest group is a central circle. I sit facing, the tightly knit at the rear, as last, though they are first. Conversational dialogue, storytelling, sharing, humming and song in solidarity, hugs and tears and dripping stars. Someone, a figure, catches my gaze, standing at the world’s edge, watching, waiting, steadied. I slip into the throng and go to invite the figure inside. Ah, it’s you. I’m chuckling — of course you’d prefer to participate just outside the inner frond.
Suddenly, a whoosh, a river in the wind, and the sanctum is so down below. It’s exhilarating as it is nerve-wracking, this sense of rush as flow, confronting the cold with warmth in your grip on my right forearm. My hand grasps your left forearm in reply, and our flight goes into weightless, so high up we are yet the sanctum is there, the constant presence and situate-point. Looking downward, the windscape is as the compass rose. Flying up and beyond so far and so fast, yet the sanctum remains, steady and serenely a-blazing.
A downing of fluffy clouds, we lay in the veiling cloudstream. Four at the posts; a torch in their hands ignite and burn the coloured fires (red, violet, green, and gold) with each announcing their presence in turn. No need to hide, yet no need to scream for night’s shattering. I stir first; we slide down and off the downy cloud.
A red-white flame encased in a hurricane glass upon a torch-stave comes into my hand, I extend it to you as well. We hold it for a time and times, the white-red fire licking and sipping the entrapping glass hurricane. Angels, our family in the celestial, one at each shoulder, three behind, one just behind each side. Four spring-voices swirling and coalescing at the foot of the staff-torch. You break the glass, the thrill and trill of a bell’s sweet resounding resonance, and the fires catch wild blaze and toss for stars outward.
You hold me steady as the stars turn to winds, faces of all manners in expression, rushing and hurtling towards and through me. Their passage is cold at first, then warms as I permit them to pass through me, gather in your night-painted cloak, and trail to the sanctum, becoming laughter and joyous and dancing. The sight of the winding stars chills my confidence and assures you, my confidant, with warmth in wings’ embrace to thaw my soul’s weeping.
I dim to this world and absorb self into myself, losing awareness of all out there. Deeper and deep into warming blackness, a progenitor’s black; a primal darkness whirling and stirring the streaks of star-falls, streaks and star-trails.
It’s growing cold, the love I felt dimming as I melt and fade. My hand, though lessened in perceptivity, passing over and under my front and back centre-ways of my heart, and I smile as I remember. My sacrals heat, and my root pulses pleasantly. Ascension funnels loving light into and through and past and forwards me, giving me strength to stay here. I can feel you in and through and past and forward and here with me, and I know I’d done right to come here. To be here. I thank the nameful endless smiling upon and upward for me, and as I remember, the night moves into a gentle dawning. Rainbow cascadings, and there you are, and our newborn Sun radiates and expands, warmest where we are.
I breathe. I love. I smile as I tear. I live.