They say he means death.
That seeing him ends your life. Or means that you’re going to die very, very soon. If you can hear his gallop, or can see his silhouette, it’s best if you get your affairs in order.
That’s what I’ve heard.
The tales they’ve always told about the black horse. The one that vanishes before dawn. He has no rider, and they say its because he’s only an omen. Only a warning.
He comes back later, they say.
Rider on his back.
And, guess who they say his rider is.
Guess who they say he belongs to.
Continue reading “Dark Horse”
I hear your name, whispered against the dark waning moon.
It calls to me.
Spurs me onward, encourages me.
I dive in.
That swirling abyss that brings me to stars. That brings nebulas to their knees. That cracks the very foundation of Jupiter, itself.
I dive into that darkness. That depth.
And I expect to see nothing.
Nothing but you. Continue reading “Marvel”
Blitzing moon that glares down at the forest, streaking the undergrowth with tendrils of lunar light. Small specks are lit up here and there, disturbing the tranquil dark. Upturning the critters in the wake of the night’s gaze. Always questioning, always wondering.
In the night, there are things that are seen that can’t be unseen. And there are things that are unseen that can be known, and yet, remain unseen. The forest at night is a magical place, a new realm. Home to the darkest of beings, the most silent, the most watchful. Night in the forest is a place, not a time. It is an essence, a creature unto itself.
And there, in the dark.
Sitting between the sparks of moonlight.
Hiding under the gaze of stars.
That’s where you’ll find me. Continue reading “Beyond the Moonlight”
Looking out over the hills, the towering trees, the things that were falling prey to the heavy breeze, I knew he was right.
How many years had I vowed to never climb this mountain? Claiming that I would never dare try to scale these massive hills? Declaring that this life wasn’t for me?
Half of my childhood, I’d rejected the idea. Dismissed it completely. And, when I grew and finally knew I’d have to eventually leave those flat plains for this mountain, I’d rejected it completely. Claiming that those plains were fine, that that was all I needed to know. All I needed to have. All I could learn was at my fingertips, I thought. All I needed was already sitting in front of me. I didn’t need to leave, I convinced myself.
For years, I thought that it was true. That there was nothing out here that my hometown didn’t already have. Nothing to be gained away from those plains, nothing new or out of the ordinary to behold beyond its grasp.
But that was before. That was the old me.
The foolish me.
The arrogant me.
The ignorant me.
The me that rejected mountains and heights and soaring.
That was before I knew what it was like.
What it was like to climb. Continue reading “Mountains to Climb”
It was dark. Hollow.
As I took the steps precariously with my limited eyes, I could feel them. Boring into me. Stars that winked, even in the dark. Unseen eyes that knew what I did not. Whose eyes understood further than my own could ever hope to reach.
Those eyes on me—knowing, waiting, watchful eyes—I continued the dark trek.
Entering the Temple of the Moon. Continue reading “The Moonlands”
I can feel the rush of it in the air. Pulling, away and then gently moving forward. Pressing. Drawing. Taking and giving. The sands on the shore bow to the whims of the ocean, and the sea’s breeze kicks the smell of the salt into the air. Stinging the back of my nose. Powering that feeling. Fueling what I already know:
I’m home. Continue reading “Beach Town”
I remember being on the mountain. Seeing the hills below. The way they rolled on, coated with trees. Grass peeking out beneath the trellises of tickling winds. The way everything seemed serene down there. Peaceful. Calm.
I remember being on the mountain with you standing next to me. Proud to show me the view below. You weren’t like the other one. That one was proud because he thought it was better up here. Thought the snow and wind and height gave him something. And, to an extent, he wasn’t wrong.
Unlike you, he didn’t understand what it was the mountain was giving him.
What it was that made this place so special. So glorious. He didn’t understand.
The mountain gave him nothing but a view.
The world, as it is. As it was.
And down there, watching the people move their flocks in the valley, it gave him the greatest gift of all.
A picture of what will be. Continue reading “This Valley”
A blue sea, set above the earth. Embedded behind the clouds. Reaching to heights—worlds—that we can’t see. That we can’t describe. A blue hue that deepens the mystery when the sun goes down. That darkens our vision, brings tiny lights to the forefront of our minds.
Stars are up there, swimming in that ocean sky. Even during the day, they’re up there. Twinkling. Burning. Brilliant hues of red, orange, blue. All of the colors, probably. They shine so bright. So, so bright.
And, when I go out at night—I head to that field. And when I look at the sky?
I can feel it.
All the stars burning. Simmering. Reaching from millions of billions of miles away. Reaching out to graze the planet with their light. To simply touch down, if only for a moment.
I can feel their effort.
I can feel their light.
And I can feel you, too. Continue reading “Star Chaser”
Everything is constant. Moving forward, and never backward. Progressing toward an end that no one can see, that none of us know in any quantifiable extent.
Everything moves on.
Onward, though not always upward.
Unfortunately, for me.
Not always upward. Continue reading “What the Star Brought”
The rain is a pattern. A beat. It drums endlessly, shuffling from leaf to leaf, from branch to branch until, finally, it hits the ground. It moves, and it shifts and it desperately reaches for something solid to land on.
The ground soaks it in, this melancholy soundtrack.
Eats it up. Adores it.
And who could blame it?
How could you not love something that falls so far for you? That reaches down from the heavens, just to crash into the ground below? Just to have a small, tiny chance to shower you?
The rain is cold, and wet, and sometimes its unwanted.
But it’s beautiful.
In the wilderness, it’s a love song. One that I can’t help but appreciate. That I can’t help but sing along to.
Thirty years in the wilderness, and still.
I find it beautiful.
I find myself.
In this mist, and under these branches, and in this downpour, I find myself.
I find my way. Continue reading “What I Learned From The Wilderness”