LS_mystic_walking

   As I listen here, to the song of silence, listening to the beautiful sound of rest, the harmonious sounds of wht I believe is true somethingness, I close my eyes and fall asleep. My slumber is peaceful, though not dreamless. Indeed, I've had many dreams to dream tonight. But they're pleasant dreams, heavenly, divine dreams, such as I have never dreamed before tonight, such as I was never meant to dream before tonight.
    I see myself walking in a wood of wonder. I come across a bird with a thorn in its wing. It chirps pitiously, and I stoop and pick it up. I pluck the thorn out, and I kiss the wound. The bird flutters out of my grasp to a low-hanging branch, and it starts to sing and exquisite song. I know my heart is glad for having helped it.
    I walk on, and as I walk, it trills gaily after me. I keep that little bird's song in my heart so that if I ever feel unloved or unwanted, I shall know that at least one soul was grateful for something I have done in my lifetime. I walk on. I walk, and I walk, and I walk. I find a lion sitting at the point where two paths meet the one I am taking. I stop in fromnt of the great cat, wondering where to go, not only a little afraid of the creature before me. Yet, I overcome my fear, and I feel he senses it. He inclined his head regally and points me on my way.
    I go to my right, taking the lion's advice, for I sense that he is wise and noble and fierce and wild all at the same time. I walk on, noticing that the trees seem to be getting bigger and bigger as I go. The sun has set, the sky alight with its dying fire. Night comes now, and the moon is full and pale and mystical. Why I walk this path, I do not know, but I feel that I must walk it, for fear of dire consequiences. Suddenlt, the trail ends. Before me is a swiftly moving stream, clean and pure and beautiful. It trickles and laughs as it goes on its way and I look into it. There, amid the slippery moss-covered rocks, lies a ring. I pick it up. It is a ring of exquisite craftsmanship. I hold it out in one of the spots of moonlight that shines down between the leaves of the trees above me. It is made of silver, and the design is so that the lustrious threads are interwoven around a large jewel. The kind, I cannot say, for it is dark, and I am not so knowledgeable on the subject. I try the ring on my finger, and it fits perfectly. Gently, I slip it off again, and I put it back where I found it. Doing so, I suddenly feel a wave of some sort wash over me. I cannot be sure what it is, but I know, somehow, that though it carries a little regret, it is not a major part of this feeling.
    I cross the steam nimbly, slipping a bit on a stone near the middle, but not falling. I find that the trail starts up again, and I continue walking it. All around me, the voices of the night can be heard. The crickets chirp love songs to their ladies. The owls hoot sagey and proudly. I feel that I am the only one who does not belong.
    I walk further, and I reach a clearing. I know this place, but I cannot quite recall where I have seen it, or when I have been to it before. It is a field, and I can see the buds of the sleeping flowers as well as the long grasses bowing to the night breeze as it passes. The sky is clear above me. The moon seems to be smiling and the stars are chattering gaily with each other. I lie down at the center of the clearing, savoring the moment. I am acutely aware of the sounds, the sights, the smell, and the feel of the things around me.
    Suddenly, I wake up. But I am not in my room. I am lying on the earth, in the middle of a clearing. The sky above me is cloudless and magnificent in its dazzeling darkness. I hear the crickets and I hear the owls. I hear the wind, and a dozen other sounds of nature. Two fireflies are dancing above me. How did I get here?

                                                                                Liana Smith