She is the companion of my life. Her joy at the sight, the touch of me, opens a place in my heart that exists only for her. To some, the door to this place is closed, to others it is ajar, but for her, it does not exist.
When she comes to me I put all else aside and attend to her needs, for I would not reject one touch, one look, that she offers me.
I talk to her of the hours I have spent away from her and how I miss her nearness. I remind her of her beauty and how much I love her. No other living thing can compete for that which we share. There are no barriers between us, no disappointment or harsh words to remember. Her touch banishes all doubts, all fears, all regrets, all sadness.
I know the day will come when she will have to leave me but at the moment of her departure I will be with her, holding her and loving her, and reminding her that there is a special place in my heart that belongs only to her. She will know, as I know, that we will always be part of each other, and that one day when she again touches my face with her paw and strokes her whiskers against my cheek, my broken heart will be whole.
The spirit of the night came to visit me often. I would ask him his name but he would just smile and say nothing. At first he came to me only in my dreams; a beckoning, silent figure. It was not until I began to spend time alone in the night, in the stillness, that he came to me when I was awake. It took many such meetings before I could find the words to speak to him. At the beginning we would sit in silence and await the dawn. I am not someone who is lacking in words and I found it strange that I had no words for him.
When at last I began to speak, my words were like a river rushing down the mountainside. He said nothing but held my gaze as I spoke. I seemed to find my own answers to the questions I asked of him so that when the dawn came I had not heard him speak a word but we had talked of many things.
When he did speak his voice was clear and soft and I felt the creatures of the forest fall silent to hear his words.
"We have met many times in the stillness of the night, Hawk. You opened your heart and shared your thoughts and your thoughts have taken flight. They have soared through the air, exploded in the heavens and fallen back to the earth as stardust. The stardust makes the land fertile. That is the way of thoughts, the power of thoughts. The thoughts of men are what make the earth what it is.
If your thoughts are pure and come from a place of love, when they return to the earth as stardust the land will give up its gifts willingly and will provide for your needs.
If your thoughts come from a place of hatred and darkness, the stardust will be poisoned and when it lands on the earth, there will the land be destroyed and bear no fruit. There are places in the world where the thoughts of men have caused destruction and where darkness fills the days as well as the nights. The sun still shines but the darkness of spirit makes men unable to feel it.
If man only knew the power of thoughts he would see that what he thinks, is, and he would take better care with them.
You have shared your thoughts with me and I know they are pure. As you live your life teach others of this. Tell them that they are responsible for how the stardust falls."
The Hawk Chronicles
Part of Frankston Writers Block Anthology 2015
I am lucky to be a member of this wonderful group of writers. I look forward to our fortnightly meetings of readings, laughter and sharing.
Every two years the group produces an anthology and the 2015 edition has just been published by Firsttime Publishing. It has a varied and entertaining collection of short stories, memoirs and poems. I contributed a short story called Letting Go .