Monday, May 22, 2006

Detour to Glatsonbury

Merlin, like a ballerina, dances around Morgaine. His invisible purple~ blue robe swirling through the air. All Morgaine knows is that she is getting dizzy and seeing lights flash from the corners of her eyes. She doesn’t realize that it is, the ever laughing, Merlin, giving her hints that cause her to wonder. Perhaps she is mistaken in her conclusion that,“there is no return to paradise”.

I heard her say it once, in a voice mournful and yet so sweet. I got the same feeling that came over me when I heard a whip~per~will singing, all alone once in the night. It was long after the owls, the bullfrogs, the peepers and the cheerful crickets had all gone to sleep. Then that whip-per-will took full stage. My heart tightened as his flute like tone encompassed the entire vast blackness of the night and reverberated from every reflecting space of sky.
He filled the universe around me and inside of me with his bittersweet song of hope, almost lost, but not quite!

It is the Whip~per~wills lone longing song that brings to him his love. It is the same with Morgaine, sometimes she says otherwise but all hope is not lost as there is a seed deep within her that makes her long for Avolon like a Whip~per~will longs for his mate. Some special, coded, instinctual spot deep inside of her remembers Avolon and so Avolon is.

But this she cannot see. She still thinks of Avolon as out there someplace beyond where she is. But what she is not knowing is that paradise is inside of her like a seed. Like the longing in the bird that causes it to sing the right tone. She will learn to find ways of looking within, watering and nourishing the Avolon that is in her heart.

Merlin can see that Morgaine herself is the flower seeded, the song wrought. The hope of the new Avalon is in her growing. Merlin tries to get this through to her, tells her that she is her magic wand. But she is so much like a child, always so restless, running off and doing without sitting down and listening first. She doesn’t see that this is why she has so much trouble and keeps stumbling into things.
And so Merlin dances with grace and swirl like a ballerina as Morgaine stumbles about awkward like a bull in a box as she prepares to go to Glatsonbury. She is traveling there becauce she figures that it is about as close as she will ever get to Avalon.