I would like to preface this by saying that the writings that I post are usually very rough drafts (few progress beyond drafts) and are simply written to... get the creative flow moving. So, enjoy.
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He cupped my chin in his warm hand and it was, admittedly, not at all as I had imagined it. His hands were strong, rough and calloused, yet gentle, as only a father’s hands could be. My eyes didn’t recognize his face, but our souls were so familiar there was no doubt we were well acquainted. It was such a strange place and time in which I found myself, neither here nor there, and I remained perfectly unaware of any feeling aside from comfort. It was a room, I suppose, but not like a room in a house or a building, but a room just on its own in space and it was vast and light. The light came from every surface, so no shadow could be found and everything could be seen with the utmost clarity. He gently tilted my chin up so I could look at him directly, which, in my insecurity, I had been avoiding and instantly my smile mirrored his without any effort on my part. I believe it was because his face was so full of love; an unsurpassable kind of love that ensured that nothing I had done or would do could be unforgivable. When he spoke, it was not a great and terrible voice, the likes of which would shake the very heights of Heaven or depths of Hell, but it came as a whispered secret between two very old friends. It was the sound of the breeze that passed by and shook the leaves of the trees that gave breath to the earth. My heart knew the voice well and responded with utter joy. I cannot tell you the things which he said, for they were for me and me alone. I can tell you that the words were not complicated nor disconcerting, but simple. As a parent explaining to a child, he chronicled all that I sought and so much more and I, for the first time, understood everything from beginning to end. His voice, like him and this room, seemed to be entirely comprised of light, which swept all doubt, confusion and disarray from my mind, leaving only space for understanding. I was like a child again, thirsting after anything and everything, wanting nothing more than to absorb all I could about the world and those around me. Only this time, this time I wanted more than just the world, I craved to know all of eternity. “Not yet, my darling.” Was his unmitigated response, and with that I felt the patience, not of a child, but of a soul well beyond my earthly years. It was then that I truly comprehended that I am as eternal as he; that I am a spirit without time or boundaries and that I have within me all of the potential to become all that he is. I am not, by definition, young or old. I just am. Despite the eternal nature of my being, I lack experience. How plain a truth it is to have, yet how few obtain or maintain it. What is it then that made me so special as to gain the answer? Could it really be that all one has to do is ask? It must be.
The whole of it was over as quickly as it began and even now, as I tell it, I can feel my mind forgetting. What a feeble, human thing forgetting is. And though I’ve written it, I know that words have not done justice to what I experienced. I still grasp for words, searching everything I’ve ever known of language to find any word or set of words to capture all that I felt and saw, but I come up with nothing; just a blank where an adjective should be. So, for now, I’ll leave that blank as it is. Perhaps someday I’ll discover a word that I’ve yet to learn or perhaps a word will be created to facilitate such an encounter as mine.
Love,
Lauka
