A faint stirring into wakefulness, a smooth elongated stretching of all four pawed legs, a twitch of the nimble brass claws yearning almost greedily forward, as if holding on to thin air in a perfect sphere... a Sphere. Yes! the time has come to conjure them once more.
Two slits of golden light, inner shine from feline eyes remembering. It is time to rise, time to craft and weave, time to run first as only a fleeting shadow through all those landscapes the future will bring. A single traceless weightless step forward precedes the swiftest run, the stealthiest flight through the night. A flowing sinuous silhouette that knows the dark, the ethereal obsidian feline Queen of sidereal night skies. The swiftest embodiment of ferocious silence pauses then for an instant, she holds a patch of thin air in one claw, immediately a sphere is shaped, a sphere is born, a hollow crystal bubble at first, clean translucent cocoon made to incubate any gossamer dream, hope or memory, the future slowly taking form.
She breathes, she sighs life into this sphere... the whitest untouched fluffy snow unveils, crisp cold fresh scent of winter, primordial silence padded now by endless star shaped watery crystals, a pure clean canvas is thrown on the land, all ready for a new start, a new world anticipating to be painted... all those who enjoy a beginning, learn to also honour and cherish the required endings.
She then lets it go, the sphere floating up and away, dream condensing like dew off to await its turn.
Another sphere, another breath, emerald green hills caressed by sapphire oceans, the bluest skies, the sweetest scented playful wind... a voice ever silent before finally finding its song through the noblest form of life. Proud standing tall the ageless eternal King, anchor between what could be and what is, the tree forever understands, forever flies, forever stands, forever lives, forever longs, forever sings, forever connected to all there is, to all there will be, forever uplifted by my wind, my breath which is his. The sphere floats on to take form.
The next brings a deep pang of joy! Within it the golden eyes look up at night clad skies, full moon as a beacon, a wolf's howl of recognition. Looking up again.. two shooting stars! Cascading shine of silver flame; the path is now marked to be clear, the long awaited sense of direction finally shown. The two black swans freely extend their wings, their elegant onyx necks a bridge to the worlds and wonders beyond, the pass is now open, the flight home's begun; this sphere too floats on.
In the next one a single soul dreams alone. Golden lit feline eyes locked on her target, slow smooth deliberate steps forward in silence, all sense of motion is lost... I found you! Am I looking at you... or am I looking at myself?
A midsummer night's dream lost between millions... or is it lost? All sleepers weaving their own dreams, their own lives... so much noise.. why do they weave fear? Would something change if they ever dreamed the same? What was it you dreamed, this New Moon's night past...?
A pair of eyes fluttering open into a dark room made of old concrete, in a humming ominous city that never sleeps, self-creating, self-consuming, a tainted life of its own, ever watchful...
Was this all real? Was it my imagination?
Tell me the difference if you seek elaboration.
Purpose and meaning found when allowed, an individual choice, a mere matter of perspective.
Sweet comfort sometimes found in the most unlikely places, impermanence being of comfort this time; this too shall pass...
Her dexterous sensuous dance slows to a pause then stops; she exhales as she calmly curls up to rest and bid her time, crystal seeds now sown, in due time will be reaped. Heavy dark lids cloud and hide those glowing golden eyes for now, my soft patient purring cushioning the living dark; this too shall pass...