Friday, March 02, 2007

I have met a great, wise wizard whose crystalline blue eyes I cannot forget. Nor his aura of Love or his deep chuckle that sends waves of tranquility permeating through my consciousness. As tall as a god should be, smooth white hair and beard of snow, with but a trickle of gold strands down the middle. Lashes of an equally dazzling white framing his eyes that make the skies weep or the blue bells sigh, a citrine blue of waters of paradise. The glow of Love that hovers over his entire being, rouges his baby pink skin with a divine undertone of the fairest white. His voice, soft and low, yet echoing with a majesty only of the Gods, he knows. He knows. He sees, feels, hears, and knows all.

Yet lying in the lap of such a god brings only as many battles as graces. And magnificent graces I have been granted. And now while I dwell on the fences between melanchoy and happiness, I cannot help but know. "Manic depression is touching my soul!" And the battle has not even begun.

Trying to remember Uncle Arthur and his warm hug and knowing smile, I struggle to surrender. I just want to always be with him and soak every essence of his divine presence, like a pet sponge. Its the closest I can get to India. But yet I know its a desire, as needless as this unreality. O my wretched mind! How you keep pulling me back to the Glass House!

While I am no longer able to hear his words, somewhere in my heart lies an inscription forever forged. I cannot forget and I must never forget. And to battle I will go, for Uncle Arthur but really for myself. To India, evermore, to claim my Real prize.

black llucii at 11:19:00 am