The Beckoning

The Beckoning
by Pixi

The beach was deserted,
The world had ceased, the air was still,
And the sky, starless black velvet.

The world was veiled.

And it was behind the veil that I first saw him,
Darkness making a shadow of him,
A carving, fashioned from the substance of midnight.

He stood at the waters edge,
So still, so silent,
But I could feel the life force there,
The fierce power within him,
That made of others inert matter by comparison.

Inevitably I was drawn to him,
Like the moth is drawn to the flame.
A small winged being,
Unaware of the danger the glow in the night holds.

Too late it learns
That the promise of pleasure holds the seed of pain,
That the beckon of warmth, in truth, is a raging blaze,
A generated heat that violates its wings,
And so the creature flies no more.

But I knew.
I knew the devastation of the inferno,
I had survived it once before.
And now I was about to hurl myself into the fire again.

Resist you may say.
But I have no control over the ebb and flow of my life,
This is governed by the highest of powers,
Powers that brought me here tonight
To this lonely shore.

Ah yes, it may seem accidental,
Destiny confronts us that way,
A game of chance - the moves appearing unrelated,
But its all part of a different stratagem,
The first stitch of a new story
Woven into the tapestry of living.

'It is time'!
The silent one grows impatient.
He awaits my crossing the sand,
All that lies between, being and becoming.

Soon, his essence shall blend with mine
In a profound alchemy of life,
And in the blending we both shall be changed - consumed by fire.

And what elements shall the dust of our old selves give rise to?
What new legends shall be born?

Well, that's another story,
One for the telling in times to come.

About the Author:
Pixi lives in the U.K. You can email her at pixi209@yahoo.co.uk.