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It was raining as I walked along the path, quietly observing the trees around me and allowing the tranquility of the pre-dawn forest to fill me with inner peace. I walked slowly, simply absorbing the sounds of Awen's beauty. Today was a better day than most. Ever since the loss of my sister, I haven't felt myself. My days have been overshadowed by that dark cloud of grief that saps the joy out of every moment, and leaves my world sunk in the dismal grey of apathy. But today, somehow, I could see colors again. It's as if for the past few years, I've forgotten what color, and light, and life look like. Forgotten what the birds sound like, or how the wind moves through the trees. Forgotten how to smile. But today, for this brief moment in time, I could breathe again. Stepping through the trees into the Sacred Grove, I was at once overwhelmed by a powerful sense of closeness. Of not being alone, but of being embraced. I stopped for a moment, breathing in the feeling of being loved, being known, being whole. I hadn't felt this way since the passing of my dear sister Monchichi, and the feeling was so powerful, so overwhelming, that I was physically unable to move for a few minutes. When I could, I stepped out into the center of the grove. I called out to the four directions. To the four elements, and to the eight. To the four alignnments and to the one that is Awen. I called out to the void, and to the everything, and fixed the image of my sister in my mind. Taking a deep breath, I called to the flowers around me and waited. Flower reading has never been my strength. Always the flowers seem to do their own 'thing' and interpreting them has been a great challenge. My dear sister knew this, as I had complained to her often (we weren't twins, but we were close enough in age that it felt like it at times). Perhaps this is why the flowers bloomed as they did. When I opened my eyes, I collapsed to the ground, weeping openly at the sight that lay before me. Instead of a single type of flower giving me a pattern to determine, the blooming was of many different types of flower, packed together practically one on top of another, in the unmistakable image of my dead sister's face. Her eyes seemed to look right at me, knowingly, peacefully, offering a promise. A promise of what, I couldn't imagine. She had been dead now for nearly four years. I sat there unable to move, simply staring at her face. Somehow, I didn't feel loss.. Instead, I felt a sense of closeness. Of being reunited. I don't know what it means, but I'm grateful to Awen for the moment. Tomorrow, will the world be grey again? Nibbles Eartha Aisling Storm's Wrath | |