I recall a time that we drove underneath a winter moon, with fire in our souls; Lucinda, the Men and me, Michaele Ruby, sharing Christmas whiskey in the backseat of Grandad’s beat up truck.
The luminous elixir shook and shone, in moon lit glass, upon our cotton print dresses set in motion by the wind; as we teased our men with promises…
They drove us down every dark forest road, to give us the stars.
We were young, when the belief of dreams could be seen in our eyes.
We didn’t know where we were going back then or why; we just knew it felt good to drive that old truck, down every moment we shared together.
We were chasing secrets in the dark, we were never meant to find…
So we laughed and sang songs upon a silent field, dancing by a warmth, radiating from the truck’s hood; our dresses looked like lit fireflies, legs silhouetted, swaying in front of the lights.
The Men, stood in shadows as the mist rolled in over the fields.
I could not hear their spoken words; I could only see breath escaping, like spirits, on the winter air…
I stood still, within a silence that pressed upon me, knowing I had been here before~
At that moment, I knew we were like children running our shadows down, the long roads of forever.
All the words that were never spoken, have become lost to us.
Fearful of the strange shadow inside, until the final moments of Twilight, offers us a glimpse of the last door within our hearts, which we have kept tightly guarded.
Beyond this door is a place from which we began, so long ago. Here resides, the essence of each story, our being, within the mystery.
The Seasons will come to pass to the tune of the Great Unknowing, as time unfurls upon all, leading us to the winter years…
To the last door, on the threshold of sight; there is no lock upon it~
We step through to become, what we always feared we could be…