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Western Edge

Western Edge

You standing there next to me, heard me say once, that I wanted to be able to touch the earth in all its various forms and meanings, and to feel it under my feet as I hold it and be able to break its clods in my hands, and then to be able to sleep here with you upon this hard packed ground. As I feel myself lost in your warmth and the comfort of your arms.

With pillows of bluebonnets under our heads, underneath a vast blanket that’s stretched over us made up of stars. So cowgirl take my hand and lead me forward to the western edge of the trail, and take me to where I can reach out once again and touch the earth, with everything feeling so right and so good.

To be sitting there by firelight holding off part of the night, and being able to see for miles out here in that turning of the twilight. Far from those streets with those neon lights that split the night and block the heavens above, and to be able to reach out and touch you and feel your warmth and comforting arms near, and slowly letting all of the sufferings that’s felt go.

Sitting out here watching as falling stars streak like tears across the sky,* and wondering if they are like holy tears with trails they cast being forever gone in the blink of an eye, and then glancing and seeing reflections in the firelight of laughing eyes recalling words said and songs sung. With this being our moment to embrace and to try and reach for the sky or to shoot the moon, and knowing that we are dreaming as we hope it never slowly becomes a sweet memory like all the rest. And having to store all away and head there when I can like those highlands I carry in my heart.

Feeling as though lost in time knowing this to be like an endless story, and I will have these feelings that are here remaining long even after the moment is done. Touching the earth again and feeling it’s energy flowing is having the feeling of hope rise up; like you knew to lead me here was like calling upon all the angels and allowing some new dreams, as we look to those skies that will be our blanket too, everything will be all right. Yet we both know to reach up to touch those skies that you have to know how to kneel too,(To hurt is to steal, and to touch as you have done is to heal: So on your knees Boy!).

I know I might not be much but everything’s been a long time coming, and as I Touch the Earth you can feel yourself starting to come alive again, and through ups and downs we managed to help each other up and you caught me as I started to fall. Knowing too that you felt as if you had been living at times underground but everything is now all right, and that cowgirl who took my hand and led me out here as she moved in mysterious ways, she needed this too and followed those feelings to Touch the Earth here with me.

Making the most of the moment and of our pleasure before those walls come down, and even while we sleep the energy will continue to flow through us here though the memory will last. And feeling these moments of absolute freedom while here under the canopy of Heaven. And possibly grieving when the moment’s gone but you’ll feel it in the icy dawn or in a grain of sand. Or hear it hitting with the sound of a symphony, and never letting these moments truly die.

As hearts and fists are opened to take the hardest parts and all that was missed, with both of us being sleepy now and time coming to cross the blue hills at the border of Morpheus’s plane. And knowing that soon the evening’s empire will soon be returning to dust only to be reborn in the dreaming. And now feeling those bluebonnets cushioning our heads and losing myself in your warmth, with us both gazing up towards that dark blanket above made out of the stars that slowly wheel and turn, as we are traveling past those smoking mirrors and those smoky fires in our minds now.

Moving through those ancient streets in the dreaming, with both having senses stripped as we travel through it together with no fences stopping our passage. And having given and taken and struggled with knots but Fate directed us to have all this happen here. As I just followed that cowgirl who became my conductor and feared no evil here out to this western edge.

* American Southern legend says that a falling star shouldn’t be wished upon but instead a prayer should be offered for those who need them and for those in Purgatory. For it is said to be a tear from Heaven shed over a sinful and wicked world.

Copyright January 2006: Timberwolf International LTD.

This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.

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