The Lady Within
In the silent introspection of morning and in the whisper of the dusk, she calls me.
She calls me and shows her feathered cloak as it glistens in the moonlight.
The beautiful mistress caught in a moment of time, a fleeting glimpse of the starlight in her eyes.
Tresses wrapped in red fall upon her shoulders, shimmering in the candle light.
Her voice a caress along my arm, ever so gently.
Filling me with strength.
Her beauty shines through my eyes as I consider the mirror of night.
The falcon’s wings surround me, embracing me, integrating with my soul.
I stand as the warrior’s metal falls upon my shoulder, dark feathers in the shadows.
I grasp the vestiges of time as it encompasses me, aging from the maiden’s beauty, to the mother’s dress, and wrinkles fall deep upon my face.
Time is a limited concept, brushed aside by the legacy of spirit which lives on in memories.
I bow deeply to her lady as she moves forward and touches my shoulder, the touch spirals through my body and I become her, not realizing the truth until it burst forth in merriment.
Tinkling laughter fills the corridor, freedom a mere glimpse away.
Embracing the magic as it touches the reaches of my soul.
Such is the meaning of prayer and conversation; the illusion is broken and you are set free at last.
To look upon the visage and realize the truth was always there, you just had to grasp it.