He moves below the shading canopy, through the trunks and foundations of this world.  Slow, low, and careful, connected, grounded.  There is power and potential at the base of things, he absorbs from all around.  So near to the ground, the world screams by, a blur to the side brought into sharp focus ahead.  He pulls at the Earth, tethered to the source of his strength.  He fills with it until there is no more room within him, and he must pass it on.

I watch him approach, silent, sure, and small, bringing his gift to the messenger who must take it on from here.  I feel the power, make the connection, and feel the world rushing around my head.  For a while, everything is in slow motion, every creature is tiny.  My dominion is limitless.  But this is not meant for me.  It is not mine, and I cannot hold it.  I must pass it on.

She circles me, just out of sight.  She is hard to see.  Her voice echoes from high above, and gives away her location.  She is power of a different kind.  She is the power of grace.  Exquisite hunter, she approaches, and for a crystalline moment our eyes meet.  There is recognition and I feel myself grow weak.  I am humbled before her.  Another cry and she streaks past me, pushing away from the Earth.  Passing the power on to the air.

He lifts his head to smell the breeze.

(1999, Mel Grubb II)

Last updated 10/05/01 Site contents Copyright © 1999-2001 Mel Grubb II