Wednesday, May 27, 2009

Dawn River

Dawn River

I stood on one bank of a wide river in the predawn darkness. The flowing waters made deep gurgling sounds in the night, conveying their ceaseless energy, the torrential power moving unseen beneath a seemingly calm surface.

To the east, a mountain range loomed black and immense against a gradually lightening sky. It was a massive symbol of both limits and freedom: an obstacle to those daunted by fear but a victory to those daring to scale heights.

Suddenly the sun crested the distant peaks and the river before me burst into light. In one moment the formerly black, serpentine course seemed electrified with illumination. Every variation in its surface, every tiny cascade and ripple caught the sun’s radiance.

I had been intended to witness this spectacle of transformation. I had been brought intentionally into that moment where fire and water met, where light and matter intersected and became mutually more.

Someone was watching me watching.

“You will speak of it,” that Someone was letting me know, wordlessly.

“You will illuminate the illumination through your own heart.”

“Why will I?” I asked.

“Because the river - everywhere - longs to awaken and glow.”