Long is the night to those for whom sleep doth fight; long and dreary the road to the weary; longer still is the cycle of life for those who live in strife … within and without, so rife with pain and no gain of peace in lease of time. Such was my frightful flight east away from beastly terror now marauding Uruk, stalking the countryside round about; the sound of such blight still floating on light wind, but I would not stop to bend knee, though free to pray. Kheba told me to stay the course, and though I may travel alone, an ill-suited fool-companion would only cavil and unravel my senses, lowering my heart and mind defenses, putting me in closer range of physical danger, as well…
But I’d reached the desert sand, where dæmon band could be heard clear as warped and twisted bird on this my third night of flight. My water skin was now dry — and did I try not to consider my thirst — but there would be water if only I could make it to yonder hills 
where lay still ponds and gentle brooks, or so it looked, if not an illusion born of my mind of confusion. No matter; I’d made my resolution from the revolution underway in my soul being purified by deprivation, new creation within; that is, the manifestation of determination and sobriety, of illumination and deadly-defiant piety.
Ah, but I was not alone; I knew, for the wind blew with the Spirit — mysterious, imperious, perhaps even deleterious, yet Source of Life — so yes, something was there to be with me. Something, or Someone, had always been but never seen. As an ancient sage of another age said, “hidden in keep of the deep! I do not know who begot this child nor if she is mild … but this, the same, came even before God!” Far older than the sod under my tortured feet plodding along the sanded heat that so nearly threatened my defeat. But would I bleat like some little lamb?
Oh, but damn the very thought! What a sham it would be, I boldly told myself. I’m not a lamb but man! Or to hell with it! Man to view; woman to few who know what I show from inside but try to hide? Does it matter? What fracking scatter of thought! I’m human, at least; not beast … but what? Even beast would not concede to dying without trying to live! The instinct for survival and revival is vital to the nature of every creature!
“Water … water … water from the daughter of Kheba… What could be wrong coming from one so strong?” the voice carried with ease on the gentle breeze. Enticing. Alluring. Seductive. Slicing through my senses. Impressively reassuring. Destructive. “Water … water … water you need to feed your strength lest at length you perish … and truly I cherish you.” Lies. Lies in angel guise. Snake eyes sharp to incise the unwise; to apprise the demise of desperate man; ready to baptize him in flood of his own thin blood. “Fear … you fear, my dear … fear you fear, not me, the one you do not see. Ah, but let me be your heart’s decree, and you will be free … free … free with me for whom you never sought, in liberty unbought, given freely with no thought … free to be what you really are … bright and shining star.” Not far from truth, I needed no proof from prophet, priest, or sayer of sooth; yet there was nothing to say but, too, I could not stay, though the hills still seemed so far away.
And So I Kept Walking…
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Note: Both illustrations stock photos/pictures free for public usage.
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