TOWARDS THE GATE

Like a winter moon, he staggered towards the gap, staggered towards the gate. He hummed along the broad way, along the whispered spaces, making mental stories and myths, making mental songs and chants along the way. He was sunrise and tinsel, he was sunset and swirling galaxies. He was the eye of the owl, he was the soft pad of the fox. He was the crisp page of the book, he was the strength of the mirror. He was the writing on the wall, and he was the coin in the mud. Walking and crouching, running and shivering, the gate was always one step further, always a breath beyond, a heartbeat more. He opened himself to the moon, made himself receptive to the swirling stars. He was magic surrounded by imagination, he was the story writ large. He hummed his life into being, he hummed his life through trial and tribulation, he hummed his life towards its end. He knew that eventually the gate would join him, that the gap in the cosmos would reveal itself, join with him, and then complete itself with him. Such is the engine of ether, such is the vibration at the deepest level of the cosmos. Nothing is in expectation, nothing is in wonder, the wheel turns, the gate opens, and you hum along the way. You are young, you are old. Reality shifts as you hum along the broad way, along the whispered spaces.