I received this vision today. It brings nothing really new to the table, offers no new insights or revelations, at least to me. But given the proximity of the Solstice and the Full Moon, coinciding with the global “drumming for peace” program, I felt it was worth sharing nonetheless. Perhaps it has meaning or significance for one of you who regularly read my posts, or for someone simply passing through…
I see a rising tide of crimson…
A raging inferno burns…
The Earth trembles in Her sleep…
Life, in all its forms, flees.
And at the center
A circle of three
For what will come to be.
Who are these few, who stand against the exodus?
Who are these few, standing for the masses?
Are they strong enough to persevere?
Are they brave enough to vanquish fear?
Are they powerful enough to stop momentum,
and turn the tide once more?
Or will they sacrifice their all to no avail?
I see them clearly now…
Three, in tune…
Oblivious to chaos all around…
Focused tightly on their bonds.
For they are tied together
by some thin, unbreakable cord;
One mind, one heart, one soul
in three separate forms.
A tripartite Being
like the Goddess and the Christian God
like so many mystical and magical ones
the magic and mystery of Three…
As I watch, the thunder rolls
rain begins to fall
Steam rises from the murderous flames
blood begins to drain away…
And in the distance, an answering sound
a steady, rhythmic pulse…
Drums of different varieties are speaking
building a cadence and tempo…
And into this field of sound and tone
I hear voices join the song
a few at first, growing steadily louder
as others add their harmonies.
We sing to honor the dead…
We sing to celebrate the living…
We sing to mark the transition…
But the song remains the same.
Voices raised in ecstasy and agony
blending on the breeze.
The wind picks up to carry it forth
and add its own voice to the wail.
The steam is dense now, obscuring sight
and only sound remains.
A deafening cacophony
yet patterned just the same.
My heart adjusts, my breathing, too
adopting the rhythmic wave.
Though I cannot say with honesty
if I’m feeling joy or pain.
Too much happening, all at once
too much swirling, misty mess.
I cannot know if we are failing here
or finally making progress.
It matters not to me, I guess
for I need only close my eyes to escape this twisting vision.
But the sound…
The sound remains.
The pulsing pounding pace…
The screaming and the singing…
The moaning and sighing of the gale…
The rain a virtual downpour now
mixing with my tears to clear the smoke-sting from my eyes…
The future still a mystery
as vision fully fails…