His Conditioned Echo

With tears he walked in wonder and joy beyond himself unable to reach the ground from where he now stood so high above it all and yet so enmeshed without friction the ebb and flow this time did not move his steady feet upon the shifting sands that stood their ground long enough to know. Captivated by the spell of his own linear time unfolding like a flower’s birth in springtime pushing up half frozen through the snowy tomb as winter’s weakening grip grew more dim. The pulse of his heart kept rhythm to the tune he hummed in his hidden mind, behind the veil. And he wanted to share this thing he now knew so clearly but the bell he struck with his golden baton refused to chime or even thud. So complete was the empty silence he found no fear this time but only wondered how he came to walk in this land so easily after all his years of struggle. Struggle for no reason and all that searching pointlessly for what was always in his reach without reaching. He had followed the path a million times without ever before noticing the ledge upon which to step, and yet this time he could not mistake the way it called his name or sang his love song. He tried to explain but words would not do. So he spoke in silence and let his eyes reveal the journey to all those few who could see what had brought him face to face with himself, standing here in God’s hand. Surrounded by the sweet angels he had dreamed as a child when the water had poured like honey down the walls of the glimmering castle so slowly as if not moving at all, and yet like a distant river that never seemed to change it somehow cut deep into the solid rock and opened a canyon where his heart now was shining bright. The grace so large, as large as this moment was blossoming now, could not be seen to the edge, and yet at the same time it was expanding it was contracting through itself, shrinking as small as a grain of sand on the ever spreading beach of infinity. All at once everywhere with nowhere to go and nothing to see. The leafy boat he’d tied fast to the shore washed away without him, leaving him lost in paradise without regard for worry or even wonder. What was was, what is is, what will be will be, and none of it making sense even as it all fit neatly into its perfect place.

The cloud’s edge where he stepped without fear could be seen from his other eyes like diamonds in the night of day. Glistening like a fresh virgin’s first tender kiss, pristine and as new as an old man’s last sigh, she who was he turned inward and saw them who are they. He’d seen the sky before that way, the way it would be a moment later. Expanding. Moving in all directions at once. All directions except toward him. Always away. Always radiating like his heart had sometimes shined. Like it did when he met her for the first time. When he saw her innermost form that was without shape and touched her soul that melted away out of sight like milk from a mother’s breast into the warm nestling face of a child in bliss and peace.

And there he spoke clearly to God, face to face, heart to heart. As clearly as his articulate practice would lend its open hand. He spoke so fine, with words woven in the fabric of long dead poet’s half remembered reflections. Honed for a thousand years and then polished like river gems tumbled round from their once proud crystalline faces. Smooth to the touch and warm like a goddesses’ soft perfect naked willing flesh. His words shimmered in the illusion of sun’s shine. And that’s the way the fine silk poured out of him, like wine, intoxicating to a lover’s spellbound ears. He recounted his journey and plotted his course and wondered his wondering expecting an answer that never came from where he now focused himself to listen. So he listened long and hard, so hard he could not hear a thing. Once again remembering all that he’d managed to forget. It found his conditioned echo returning to shake the clouds upon which it must be impossible to stand when you doubt. And he fell like Lucifer burned and crisp, into the fire born again from almost cold embers reignited by his own growing fear. The fear of last doubt unshed. The fear of fear. The fear of remembering. Remembering what he can now recall again so full and complete. And so he fell back into his world. This world where you now listen with some interest and try to unravel the mystery hidden between these words just like me. And you too fret and moan perhaps. Just like me on a bad day. Though it must be said you are a fool, just like me. And how could you not be that which you are? Foolish enough to reach for the stars you already hold in your hand. Wanting to cut down and kill the pretty flowers in your garden just because they dared to bloom so pretty to your eye and you want to press them against your heart before they dare to die. Wanting to change the course of the river you have woven into the fabric of your heart. And thinking you can do all this while holding onto the shore that you must leave behind. You are torn and stretched. Contorted and tired. Smiling and sad. Crying as you grin. So confused. Though it need not be and yet no warning song can be sung clearly enough that you can hear when you will not listen and remain afraid to forget, craving to remember.

It was like watching a ribbon untie itself. As though the wrapping paper undressed the package and laid itself back into the flat sheet from which it had been taken. The scissors uncut the slash that had severed the small scrap from the large expanse. The curly bow relaxed itself and spun back onto the reel. And the present placed itself back on the shelf, unbought, and then dissolved backward into the parts from which it had been made. No deja vu this time. It had not been seen before as it happened now in this stagnant moment of motionless beauty. We spoke of time forever and God said nothing. I only listened for a moment while nothing was said and heard it all. I had no regrets but felt some tide pulling me back and hence I came. Like you too. We. Standing here ununited. Sometimes afraid. Unable to love. Daring not touch deeply enough to feel. Pulling the covers over to our side to stay warm while our beloved companion freezes in the cold of her own hesitation. Asleep. Just a mirror. I’m afraid to see myself in you. Though I do when I’m alone and you are sleeping. Sleeping like me, just so I can see. This pretty game you play is so sweet. You throw yourself into the fire of worry just so I can see you cry. And in your tears of fear I see myself learning to stand without judgement. Observing my emotions reflected on your face. Just watching in astonished wonderment. And that is only part of why I love you so.