In the dream, she appears to me, out of the darkness. We are in a Carpathian meadow, caressed by a warm lilac breeze, under a canopy of stars.
Everything is peace.
She drifts down to me on gossamer wings.
Long white silken robes adorn her, flow about her.
Without a word she anoints my face with tender kisses.
The gown slips from her shoulders and pools around her feet.
Within her breast, a flame glows, bright and strong.
She lights a candle from the bright flame of her soul and then touches the flame to the candle in my soul, kindling a strong, bright light.
We both glow with warm flames shining in our spirits.
Now out of the darkness, others arrive.
Some in rags, some bearing wounds, all in silent reverance.
We recognize them as our brothers and sisters.
With long, slender candles we light the flames in each soul.
In a sacred ceremony.
We light dozens of souls, hundreds, thousands, tens of thousands.
Until the field is one great living blaze of spirits, holding back the tide of darkness.
Fearless. Fueled by love.
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