In the darkness there stands before me a host of gilded Rooks. Amongst the branches of a golden bough. Their chatter and clamour fill my senses, overwhelming me as I dare to step beyond the void and enter into the great beyond.
Together, they come to roost. Together they speak of things unknown, that I myself may only care to dream of. Their stories interwoven with the branches of their home over many ages, weathered through many storms.
But alone I stand, looking up to their great host of family all their very own. An outcast now am I, weathering all things as one. Here where I stand, I am vulnerability exposed. As my gaze weaves around the trunk that lifts them high, from afar I taste the sweetness that many souls in shared repose bring to one another’s security.
But where is the strength? Is it seated in many or is it rooted in one? Amidst the clamour of their voices no one song can truly be heard. No thoughts can be processed where the light casts its glare over all intricacies of ones private memories. No mystery is left untamed where the gilded Rooks fly.
But twilight, here where I stand, lends to me an air of something unnameable. Something tangible and something powerful. Strength. Mystery. That elusive song buried deep rises up and reaches forth to be heard. A sliver thread cast up into the air from the recess of my body; here the winds may take me where they will.
I stand alone as one. I have longed to perch in precarious ease amidst the gilded Rooks and know what it is to belong. Ever yearning to be just like you, my community of foolhardy individuals all living, all bickering, never knowing acceptance of one another’s true beauty.
But that is not my road. That is not for me to know. For me, it is to take the winding way that leads where none dare say. To walk as one, where my song is heard. Amidst the tapestry of life friendship bears its branches in support to one and all. That which is given I receive with gratitude and return threefold in service and in love. But the golden bough that hosts the gilded Rooks is not the path for me.
Solitude in the quiet moment before the breaking of the dawn is where I linger most oft. With the rising of the sun that brings the warmth of day, I seek to journey deep within. Walk with me if you will. I will gladly share the journey back home to the house of the compassionate heart. I choose not a lonely road walked on weary feet. I would rather share life’s peaks and hollows. But I cannot promise security, nor, unlike the rooks in their ancestral home, can I promise stability.
But to be one is not to travel with vulnerability. For to be one is to walk with strength and to be one is to choose whom to share the journey with. To be one is to know when to speak with clarity and to know your own identity even when life is shared with many.
Like the Gilded Rooks, I belong to many but I choose to sing my own song and dance to my own rhythm. I dare to leave the ancestral home and venture forth on a journey long overdue. I honour my roots but I will overcome the fear of spreading my wings and stretching up above the golden bough where sit my companions of many long ages past.
Freedom beckons and I must answer with the voice of my heart and the ancestors that dwell within. Home is within me, family never leaves. It is not without, imposed upon me whether I choose it or not. Neither is it static nor fixed. It is of my own making with souls who choose to sing with me a while.