It was already dark night in the forest behind us.
Oblivious to the real reason our Souls had summoned us here, we sat in silence on the bench and let the ghosts appear on the meadow below us. The moonless night had a strange glow from the hemispheric light in this early May night.
The quiet before the storm.
The wordless seance after the playful. The laughter so bubbly between us to provide a constant reminder of zest above all. The sacred oiling of each other's feet. Sacred. The one moment of sober clarity and the serious dedication to each other. As yet unaware. As yet.
'It's time. It's time,' sang the ghosts from the field.
The moment passed. The stars came out. A shriek pierced the calm. A warning? A wild animal?
The walk back. Through the dark forest in the dark night.
The trees come alive. The spirits and the whispers. The little ones and the tall. I hear them too well. What follows this night is inevitable. I see it happen. I also know the resolve, but do sigh a little.
Time. Apart. To burn away this, that cannot be. The cleansing and shedding welcome. This is the part of our journey we can't do together.
It's a good thing! They are dancing out there in the distance, the tall ones, but we are burdened by the heaviness of too much time spent in the twilight to notice the celebration, rushing to get it started.
The signs are clear, as we walk through this dark night, through this dark forest, that we know so well. We are safe within it. Safe in our rituals.
The parallel walkabout is about to begin. No words are spoken between us. We know. Time.
He holds my hand. I never have to fear that darkness. I will not be alone even when I am alone.
Our feet are ready. The final walk through. Initiated. Separated.
Time.. Only time for allowing growth and standing strong.
Then.. A new cycle comes. The feet ready for new steps. Just as promised and pledged.
Blessed are the hearts that are flexible and can expand. They cannot break.
(Image credit: Alice Mason)