Editor's Note: This is a piece from the original Rusted Sky website, and the original author was not credited. If any of my Google+ peeps (of which I know there are a few from the Tribe 8 olden days) recognize it as theirs or somebody else's, simply drop me a line and I will put the credit in.
From the journey of Shara the Pure, Lightbringer:
I feel the energies of my soul open in petals, forever unfolding to reveal the source of all creation. The sound of my own voice becomes more distant with each breath, removing the binds of consciousness and thus allowing the River of Dream to take hold. A warm, almost burning sensation ascends my spine, coming forth from the lowest of my spiritual centers, passing each nexus, awakening its potential. The warmth finally reaches my head and the world vanishes from me.
I am floating amid a thousand butterflies, their wings carrying my weight among the mists and clouds of the River of Dream. I feel alive, closer to the Goddess than I ever was during my time among the Tribes. Among Magdalen the Lover. She had taught me how to love and appreciate the sensations that existence had to offer, and I learned to appreciate her teachings and her embrace. I sought to understand the inner nature of desire and found what I was looking for. I found true peace in the love of the Goddess. Magdalen’s jealousy was complete. I felt the wrath of her vanity and was banished from ever knowing another touch or caress from her pleasurable lips. I would never again know the comfort of numerous bodies, keeping me warm at night and lending to me the sensations of the flesh. I was an exile when I made the true discovery, and the subsequent banishment held no pain for me. I realized then, that the pain was during my time among the Tribes. I was truly liberated.
So here I am, floating as a Lightbringer in the River of Dream. Searching for the spirit that will guide us and aid us through the hardships to come. The sweet fragrance of the butterflies calms my senses as I project my mind into the ether. Droplets of rain fall upon my face, cleansing my pristine, naked form, taking me further across the fold into the depths of the spirit realm. Magnificent colors, brighter than a rainbow in a clear sky, shine and dance in a harmonious nature. They soon take form, creating a brilliant landscape of emerald green trees, alabaster white trails, and waterfalls that resemble an angel’s tears. I weep at the beauty of it all, knowing that with guidance and hope, all of this can become our reality. If only we allow ourselves to dream.
The butterflies gently place me upon the path of the magical forest, my feet light and weightless upon the ground. I laugh out loud despite myself, willing to give myself to my surroundings without fear or hesitation. My movements are enchanting, like a swan about to take flight. The trail carries me along, a breeze of lavender kissing my face. I notice deep red stones, like well placed droplets of blood, standing out in contrast to the placid white shales of the path. I know I am getting closer now. My power as a Dreamer are strong and I have done much in the way of knowing my destination. I am careful not to disturb the rubies, leaving them in their slumber; untouched by my imperfections.
I am led to a grove that is alive with the activity of forest creatures. Insects gathering nectar and pollinating everything they touch. Birds dancing in the circling ripples of air, allowing their wings to whimsically carry their bodies. The grass flows like the currents of the tide, swaying and lapping against the roots of the trees. Flowers blossom, releasing their seductive perfumes into the air, erotically mingling with the scents of the grove. I dance and spin into the circle, reenacting the ritual I had practiced so often before. The spirit can not resist a dance of purity, for that is what it is. What it represents.
My motions are without resistance, one flowing into the next, never giving any signs as to when one ends and the next begins. Pure dream essence falls from my body, forming tiny eddies of fairy mist in my wake. The silent music flutters beside me like a partner in dance, always keeping in time and rhythm. I am not alone now. She is with me, in all her grace and elegance. I begin my chant, my voice as sweet and luring as the ripest fruit.
Song of love,
Dream of purity,
Dance with your child,
O’ Spirit of wild.
Come with your hope,
I sacrifice all I am,
Unto you Destiny lies,
O’ Spirit of wise.
Carry our young,
Promise to a greater land,
Within your soul,
O’ Spirit of old.
I continue to repeat the song, rising into an epiphany that pervades all the senses. Body, mind, and spirit become one. My dance spins, continually faster and faster, until I feel a sensation enter the grove. It worked! It has arrived! I stop.
Tears well up within me, pouring forth of their own volition. My knees shake and give way, my body collapsing to the grass in its presence. Emotion overcomes me and I lose myself in its beauty. Word cannot lend justice to the spirit that stands before me. It is proud yet humble. Its starlike eyes pierce me with mercy. It steps further into the grove, red droplets of rubies left in its path. A faultless, brilliant white horn rises from its pristine head, touching the stars of the sky with its purpose. In all my life, I have never witnessed such an enchanting beast.
It comes towards me, calm and gentle, reaching for my bosom with its horn. The touch of its magic is like all the pleasures of the world, without sin or shadow, passing through me in an instant. I see the visions of its past. How it was hunted and forgotten. How its brethren were tainted an turned into creatures of darkness. They are horrible visions filled with pain and longing that only makes it all the more beautiful. I promise it that we will never forget.. That we will always worship it for what it is. That we will respect it and hold it sacred as our totem spirit. I feel its love for me when I pledge myself to it, and know then, that it will never be far from me.
I sleep in the grove, truly knowing peace. When I awake, I see that a ruby the color of blood has been placed in my palm, my fingers holding it tightly. My fellow lightbringers come around me, asking me what my DreamQuest has foretold. What secrets it has garnered for the Fallen, the Eighth Tribe. I smile at them, feeling the warmth of the gem in my hand.
“Come, let us go.” I say. “There is much work to be done. We have a Tribe to save.”