After the Storm

The storm has blown itself away; there is a lighting of the sky. The monstrous waves start to recede, and the ripples just pass on by. The rocks find a new home from the pounding they have been given. They come to rest haphazardly, as though so hard they have been driven. The fence looks old, all gnarled and bent, a pathway almost hidden. The footsteps - where have they come from - and to where are they now bidden? An eerie cry - a sobbing sound - mixes harmoniously. With the sound of seagulls squawking, now setting off back to sea. The lights are lighting, one at a time, pinpricks of ghostly yellow. The sobbing increases just slightly; a voice so soft and mellow. ‘Come follow me, a prize awaits,' it sings out on the breeze. I find myself following it, my heart it seems to please. I have never felt so fresh, my heart it seems to float. I follow the pathway in the near dark; my being fills with hope. What is it, that is calling me? Is sounds so sweet and near. I stumble and realise I am soaked, but I am without any fear. ‘You are mine,’ says the voice so gentle and caressing. The light seems to grow brighter, I feel an urgent need pressing. I must find the source of this golden voice; its song fills my head. I must press on the winding path before me, I feel I am being lead. A shape that glows and points at me and opens its glowing arms wide. I stop as fear overtakes me; I want to turn back, like the tide. And then the shape embraces me, calms me and points behind. There I am lying on the beach; am I now losing my mind? ‘Your journey is just starting,’ the voice tells me. ‘Come, we can not be late.’ “Still round the corner there may wait, a new road or a secret gate.” Realisation comes to me as the shape pushes me onwards up the winding hill. My earthly body I have left behind, but my adventure is in front of me still.