The Message

I heard a message today. Our very light rain had stopped, and it was damp outside. Stones everywhere were dark and soaked, and the sky was full. The sun was hidden, clouds were grey, and though it was cooler, it was still slightly warm and irksome. The great heat of our summer has been drenched by rain for weeks, and yet, it never really goes away. Light and water and heat just mix and the world seems green and humid. The trees around my home are tall and thick with their summer coats.

Winds barely blow in these summers, but when they do, especially after rain, they feel like slivers of delight.

I heard a bird talking, followed by the voices of other birds, and they were flying around. One bird- a very large bird- flew over without a sound. Thunder rumbled very far away. The air was silent; the trees were still. My house was standing safe, solid, strong, and the hearth inside was alive. My loves were safe, and my mind was relaxed.

Somewhere out in the world, people were quietly enjoying moments of peace; in other places, people were fighting, struggling, and dying. In some places, the sun was overhead, and in others, people were sleeping under the same stars their ancestors had slept under, for thousands of years. The world was turning, and I was standing, staring at the birds and trees in my sacred center, the place Wyrd wove for me.

That was the message.