A Rose and A Lady

[The camera slips forward while the author’s fingers dance once more in the stillness of night. Remembering fragments of a distant story about the Lake of Tomorrow deep within the Forest of Yesterday a struggle begins.

Yes, there were flecks of fairy dust speckled just above the glittering splashes of the awakening lake. Portions of them become now as he sees again the sun reaching its warming arms outward. Streaks of brilliant yellows and gleaming gold fall on the waters beginning to swish from there to here. Not far off in the tall, tall mysterious bold trees with fluttering songs fill the air as the story of The Order of the Sword continues , , ,]

, , , , Sremmus begins to stir on his bed of fallen brown, reddish leaves awakened by an odd stillness. Lifting his head spying in the distance a translucent figure fading with the darkness of night he ponders. Unsure of his eyes he rises upward onto his knees peering, seeking, and searching the distance. Realizing then his weapons were scattered about the encampment he felt a sense of alarm. Unsure of why or how this came to be he sought within his mind an answer. Disturbed by an unusual awareness of his soul laid bare in the brisk morning air he was taunted by the nearby Lake of Tomorrow and became intrepid to his surroundings. Swiftly gathering those weapons strewn about then dressing, reading himself for battle if need be.

Without warning, caught like a struggling fly in a spider’s web he was held fast unable to move. Every muscle of his aged body was now keener than a youthful knight of the realm. As he moved forward the lakes water rose upward upon his legs. Intensely with earnest he held hard onto the fading outline. Disappearing before him as darkness faded with day the thud-thump, thud-thump of his heart pounded within. Satisfied, yet hungering to know, he could not perceive the haunting image he trudged back onto the shore.

Remembering just inside the forests curtain of uncertainty grew plump, wild berries as he felt the pangs of hunger. Without hesitation he was soon there picking the ripest, which would certainly squelch his needs. Out of the corner of his eye a ray of dazzling light fell upon a single rose. This seemed to send his mind reeling since he knew not of it before. Its magnificence drew his sight harder upon it. At first only its aura captured his attention, but like the spirit traversing the lake it mesmerized his inner being. The more he peers upon it the grandeur, the larger it becomes.

Like the silk of the far distance east its smoothness drew his hand near. Sremmus’s fingers trembled slightly as his desire to touch, without disturbing the hypnotic beauty traced along one pedal. The softness of its pink, reddish hue melted upon his slow methodical strokes. Over and over he slid his finger gently upon the mystifying pedal. Like the calm, silent breeze of morning he slipped from one outer pedal upon its neighbor. Strangely each felt differently like the spellbinding notes of the Pan of ancient times. Deep, deep, deep within him he felt the song radiate through his body sending wave after wave of untendered emotion. Weakened by the magic he fell downward upon his knees while leaning forward to savor the faint, yet growing fragrance. Now, he could see the droplets of the early morning dew slowly slip inward.

Fascinated Sremmus’s eyes grew with anticipation as he watched an orchestra of sensuous sights, delicate scents, unheard song, and captivating textures as the rose opened wider. Exposing the inner recess of the overpowering perfume the shadow of his mind drifted into the contentment of excitement and joy. With unison the droplets slid downward, outward, spilling upon the stems defended with sharp, thick thorns. He peered intently while one moist, wet droplet hung from the nearest thorn. Steadied by moments of eternity it held fast until another pushed it forward off the edge while taking its place. Slipping his little finger into the inner recess the dampness of the dew clung once he drew out. Curiosity grasped hard upon his senses as he lifted his finger toward his tongue seeking its taste. More powerful than the nearby plump berries his passionate desire for this elixir deadened his senses while it consumed his soul.

Time was soon forgotten as morning became afternoon became evening and night drew upon the day. Unfelt hunger was lost once the elixir consumed his senses causing sleep to draw heavily. Awakening to the dark of night, realizing he lay hard upon the earth, slowly raising upward the remembrance of the rose clung to his eyes. Fear reached far within him as he searched without finding this rose. Where could it have gone? Was it only a distant dream? In all his years of meditation such an experience had not been encountered. Had one day passed, two, three or more? The moon cast its net across the Lake of Tomorrow lighting a path toward its center. Staring off into the transient glow captivated by the void of darkness he saw a figure moving unhurriedly toward him upon the dancing water. Reaching far within Sremmus gave reliance on his skills while pondering the figure now shifting its shape from a darting fish to a slithering serpent to a swooping swan to a woman of great majesty holding a gleaming sword.

Soon, seeing she walked upon the water an understanding fell upon him, although he was becoming lost in his thoughts. With every step closer his thoughts moved faster and faster and faster yet in his mind. Was she casting a spell upon him weakening his ability to defend against this sword she bore in hand?

Frozen like a statue from a stone cutter Sremmus awaited the unknown fate before him. Once she was upon the shore she stood radiating beauty more magnificent than the goddess Aphrodite of times past. Or, was this her? Did she exist only in stories told by old maidens to their youthful daughters full of hope? Even though his mind raced with thoughts darting like arrows piercing the sky of battle, he pondered this reality. Then with a surety of experience, a power of fore knowledge, and perfect intent slowly she raised the sword until it was pointed at the heart of Sremmus.

Like the winds of the Arabian Desert, which is where Sremmus was stuck down by the heavens, his thoughts became emotions. They were so strong, so hard soon his minds emotions dissipated into the darkness of the night. Left in the void of feelings he stood stripped left only with his hearts voice and his soul.

Unable to speak, to move, to know tremors rippled through him. Seeing the sword lowered now he was overcome with the heat of compassion, but he saw something not seen before. Her effervescent face radiated a smile filling him with a joy unknown to him before. This joy could not have been from emotion as they were cast from him. This joy was a gift shared with her. His soul revealed to him a revelation it was her joy he felt.

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