15 June 2020 The One Song 11 – Segment 5

Soul searching – asking the big questions – speculating on the meaning of life. These are all traits of transition spaces and potential transformations, as we discussed in last week’s post. In this current post, something intrudes on such contemplations. The MC has a number of practical things to consider. Where to get food? How to travel now that the boat, Hart, has floated away? How to make sense of Shield Bearer? Will there be more Dragons in the future? All this is put on hold based on what happens in this next segment.

At this point . . . the main character’s ruminations are interrupted by an unexpected voice speaking to Argose who has scampered away, exploring, and probably drawn by the scent of some one.

An instant later, a voice coos to Argose

            “Well aren’t you handsome? And what a fine coat!”

            I hear Argose panting and lifting paws

                        side to side and I know his tail’s wagging

            Suddenly, a fine white mist rolls out from

                        a dim cave like a throat leading into

cracked open river cliffs that block the sun

            The voice continues its one-way talking

            Could this be another one that wants talk

                        like Shield Bearer a Dragon real and True

                        who engaged Argose and me – incredible!

            That seems like a Dream from a long time gone

            . . . Argose yips and whines his happy-dog tongue

            The voice peels out a feathery, high-pitched laughter 

            I hear them tussling somewhere in the fog

                        for now, the mist has become swollen clouds

            Their joy sets me to smiling at their glee

                        but staying silent, I only listen

            

            “Come on, Mr. Furry. Soon you’ll grind me

                        down to a powder and I’ll blow away

                                    though ‘tis a wondrous time with you to play  

            Next, unhurried footfalls advance toward me

            Argose bounds out of the fog and jumps up

                        his hot-pink tongued lolling drip, drool, and spit

            I fluff his long, silky ears, lick his nose

            “What have you been up to?” I smile asking

            Other than his panting, all is silent

            He lopes back into the mist – disappears

                        comes back again three more times, back and forth

            Finally, he sits next to me staring hard

                        into the gray cloud-swirling impending

                        Something – Nothing –no voice – no sound at all

            Moments slide along in slow procession

                        as if each watches for recognition

                        each one-pointed time’s singularity

            The mist grown heavy hangs like swamp mosses

            Gray, thick, and twisted roots vein the steep cliffs

                        as I small-step my way toward the cave mouth

                        compassed on by Argose’s yips and woofs

            What light there is grows steadily dimmer

                        a slight swirl lifts the thick mist to cave ceiling

                        and falls heavier toward the stony floor

            Something       Someone          But no One near

            I strain to see into more than Nothing

            I stand staring, light behind, night before

            Again, Argose emerges from the throat

            He trots to me, pretty sits, almost grins

                        corners of his mouth pulled back flashing teeth

                        He is excited although not worried      

                                    keeps looking from me to the deepening cave

                                    to the black before us where sentience waits

            A wind rushes against the cave’s moist walls

                        spinning the haze into circles and swirls

            Clouds part inside the cave and out – sun flashes

                        revealing rows of black bats ceiling-hung

                                    wings folded firmly against furred bodies

                                    and on the floor everywhere their droppings

            The bat clusters vibrate but stay composed

 

            “Who’s there? Who’s there?” Echoes from the dusky gorge

                        and with those words, she emerges from the mists

Background

Transitional spaces can be filled with surprises. Such spaces, by nature, keep us open and aware. Personally, I’ve experienced more transitions than I care to remember, especially in the first half of my life. They are full of surprises, opportunities, obstacles, and all manner of incomprehensible goings on. But only temporarily incomprehensible. The very nature of transitions is that they are dynamic, if the transition traveler just keeps moving – that sometimes means standing still (meditation, contemplation, prayer).

Explorations #1: Something, yet nothing, goes on in this segment. Can you feel the dichotomy? 

Exploration #2: What is your reaction to Argose’s place in this segment?

Exploration #3: Who do you think the voice belongs to? Real or imagined? Female or male – think shapeshifter potential. Friend or enemy.