How did I come across this magnificent hero, you might ask?
He was in the wind when it sighs with the trees.
He is cracked and hissed with the wood in my fires.
She rolled onto the beach with the waves.
She blessed me with her damp caress when I lay in the grass.
The web, remember, will not allow us harm when we find shelter in the
spiral.
As the spider we must maintain our own however.
One day the breeze of the night blew so strong and the trees sang praise
to the evening.
One tree swayed and swayed with the carelessness of a child on the
edge of danger it is ignorant of.
The bough snapped with its moving away from its center.
But the other trees used the remains of their fallen sibling to provide
for future growth.
Thus the cycle of life ran.
What we call time, the illusion that it is, moves on when we watch.
And so it is recorded that the hero is found and lost, and abused at
points.
Some just do not understand that what they merely harm themselves in
this process.
And what is done to one is done to all.
Hurt is an unpleasant reminder that we are human, for our souls are
beyond that.
For our existence in that state I can only say this:
“We do not ask because we know, we know that there is nothing to know.
There is nothing to know because
all things are possible when held beneath the light of the infinite
and the One Consciousness.”
If that sounds paradoxical that is because that is exactly what it
is.
Here there is wisdom to be had.
One may now speculate as to what this hero is.
Although each of us will have our own answer, and each of us is right,
if we are being honest with ourselves.
Find truth and find the hero.
Find yourself and find the truth.
Know when to just be.
Learn that and I will to.
Through the mist he came, with the identity of both male and female-
such clumsy things these words we use.
The weapon she carried was of great power yet he would use it to cut
no flesh or wage any war.
For he knows it is mastery over the weapon that we should seek, not
mastery over others by use of the weapon.
Forged of will and tempered with patience the thing shone with brilliance
not known to the eyes of humanity.
Enlightenment came at the cost of the ego.
The personality the shell of the spirit as the body is the shell for
the blood.
Both must be stripped away in the end.
Then we may return, and again.
Loss is so often a source of gain and the hero knows this.
I shed a tear for regrets as the warrior goes on with eternity in mind.
Darkness strides into her path.
The darkness of despair and self doubt.
Conquering these would not be easy.
Though to give in would have been to admit a sort of suicide.
For with a shadow of doubt hanging over all we do, defeat is forsworn.
If he never looses himself, even in the face of loss a victory has
been won.
The center the hero fights for is a place of great stone temples, forests
of grand trees.
Flowers abound and the paths are clearly marked.
Both hills and meadows are were the hero rests, and the rain always
brings warmth.
All windows look out and in at the beauty that surrounds the eye within.