An Old Friend, An Old Dream

He braces me against the darkness, holding me steady as I walk once more past that perilous cliff.  My light in the abyss.  He has no name, none that I know.

I don’t know if the darkness is within him or beyond him.  Even what the darkness is.  Only that darkness and light mix, as they are bound to, and in the heart of light lingers the seed of shadow, and in the heart of darkness, a flame.  

Above my bed hangs the same embroidery that has for years.  A blonde angel- the woman I became- walking barefoot across the green.  She carries a lamb in her arms, and her free hand rests on the back of a lion.  

He is proud and noble, her guardian, her guide.  He has many faces.  Perhaps many names.  I looked to her night after night, wishing to become her.  Perhaps, after all this time, I have.


He is warmth and light.  The gentle sun that plays across ocean waves.  My strength. 

And I, the lover of beauty, art, and truth, look to him for guidance.  His touch upon my mortal form is fiery bliss.  An embrace whose depth knows no end.  Angel or god, animus or imagining.  

A whisper in my heart.  


A roaring in my dreams. 


He basks in the sun, smiling lazily back at me.  The light plays across his careless golden hair, and his easy grin and sky blue eyes are like home.  The shining sea rests beneath him, rocked slowly by the wind.  Our eyes meet.  His smile is like the dawn.  Slowly closing his book, he rises, hands outstretched.  I rush to him with the love of a child.  We embrace, and his wings fold around me with all the protection and familiarity of the hearth-flame. driving away the dark.  He laughs, welcoming me.

My angel.  My lion.  My brother.  My light.

It’s been too long.


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