Finding My Familiar ...

Soul's heart beats flicker across the dappled white moonlight. Etches of a familiar in the fog of time, reverberate across the vast, expansive earth. My hands are scratched and brown, streaked with the marks of dirt I have dug with my thin, exhausted fingers.

I was here once, in a lingering, fading memory. Reaching out desperately for a solid hand to take, to guide me across the remnant ashes of life. The stench of smoke filled my lungs, wracking them solidly and bringing tears to my eyes. The world was stingy and atmospheric, a dream-wake that my youthful eyes could not quite absorb.

Billows of smoke perfumed the air with their unique scent. One that has saturated my memory, deep down into my soul. Dizzy I was, clutching at that large hand, that attempted to pull me up onto my wobbly legs and feet.

Why am I here now? The dirt beneath my feet cradles me, a too familiar contradiction for a world that plagues my dream-mares. A deep feeling arises within me and I cannot tell if it is fear ... or something else. I never could find the words to express its unsettling nature.

I don't know how much longer I can dig for. Patterns of fatigue emanate from my body lines, masking the air with a surreal fog that veils my anxious gaze.

Where am I, if I am lost between the disorientation and topography? The more I step, the more I am lured into the stirring beat of this land, which is at chime with my own heart.

Ahead, under the spell of moonlight, I envisage a version of myself, small and carefree, light heeled with my dress twirling in the breeze. The grass is knee high, waiting to be cut. I am running away from someone, squealing with glee.

Like a magnet the small me is on this land, my body attaching flawlessly to its cracking twigs and spiky grass. It almost consumes my tiny frame, at beat with its rhythm in the squeals of escape from my chaser.

My fingers claw naturally at the raw bark of a tall, breathing tree. It rustles encouragingly as I climb it with assured, quick feet. My eyes spark with excitement at my hideaway.

A steady breath accompanies me closely in the background, reassuring in the thick air, masked by the deafening pitch of emptiness. It is an alarm, an absence of sound that holds a deeper truth; a signal; a warming.

Yet, I can hear a lightness and steadiness of tread and do turn, as always, to look closer. Strands of short, fluffy blond hair peer through the teasing shards of moonlight that cut through the smoky haze. My heart beats heavily with anticipation. Can I see his face ... ?

His visage is vacant, a patch of black that never seems to fill and bleeds into the vacant black of night. A vision that sends a chill through my bones. Being here has retained my stubborn canvas of terror that I cannot quite repaint over with a new memory just yet.

Heavy with deflation, my feet are presently sinking deeper into the dirt as it cradles and almost consumes me. A dirt so old, yet rapidly renewed with my body warmth. It is almost like it has re-birthed itself in this moment and wishes to lure me into its world.

To dig deeper towards peace and find it amongst the moist and kept memories that linger in the flickering and fading lights of earth. Has someone switched the moonlight off? Or is it prone to my shaking disposition?

I am faded yet here, miles away from the present I know. Absorbing the near darkness now, I allow myself to feel the rawness of the stark familiar. It pulse is vibrant and alive, coursing through my very own veins. It will not leave me, like the ticking seconds of time, consuming my existence night and day. If only I could find the words to claim it as my own. Its deep pulse tingles within me, unable to leave me and pulls at my soul, waiting for its truth to be awakened within.

I was here once, beneath the waving branches, tossing their leaves. I stared across the open plain, absorbing the moonlight with my gaze. There was an easier truth in every eve, in the youthful moments of discovery that consumed me. It breathed its familiarity in this very place and in the nameless hand that reached for me, each time I fell.

It is a time that slips in and out of my consciousness, slapping me awake with its urgency in my dream-wake. There is an essential, secret truth swept aside, that yearns to be discovered, beneath the facade that I face. It exists amongst the lingering wisps of smoke, that although sheer now, do still rise and fall, masking this world with a veil.

Something hid itself deep within me, pushing me down deep, beneath the smothering air and dimming light, leaving me unable to completely see.

If I can dig very deeply, beneath the world that haunts my dream wake, I might be able to reveal the truth. If only my hands did not ache so incessantly. I cannot remember just how long I have dug for now. What time is it? I do not know as time is eternal here.

Why here? This very spot? The blank visage persists, persuading me to continue. Our hearts once beat across this blank earth together, forging their own joint adventures and pathways.

Closing my eyes, I allow the warm lights to flood my deep gaze. A hazy memory returns ... It was a red moon that night, casting its shadows across the vast, vacant world. We squealed at its crimson, our arms striking the air with our excited cheers. It was a beating signal, a sign of life, that something other than our play, remained.

Amidst the roaring fire, the moon cast its reassuring light, birthing his being with a vibrancy that I had never witnessed before. Hunching over with his back to me, he began to dig desperately, right here, on this very patch of dirt, surrounded by its wilted wild flowers.

Moments later, my heart tore apart as I watched his being merge, bleeding into the chaos of red and black. The world spun around me, crazily, blacking me out.

Placing my hand over my pounding heart, I take a few slow breaths. A warm hum buzzes within me as my hands close over something firm. Retrieving it from the deep soil, my gaze meets its preserved form. It is a small cup, of wrought silver, with a deep drink well. Inside the well glows the light of the red moon, shimmering with his beautiful, lost, youthful gaze.

Dropping to the ground, tears fall from my eyes and my heart shakes with relief. His familiar is here, shimmering and alive in its remnant state of being.

Holding his beating presence close to my chest, I feel its beats syncopate with my own heart's.

We are here together now, in our joint familiar, under the saving spell of moonlight, never to be separated again.