A Final Journey

The journey of our creation comes full circle, from watery birth to watery end, and the shades are drawn on our lidded eyes to open no more in this life: now is the beginning of a new journey.
The light is shut out from our eyes and salt tears fall from the loved ones surrounding us, a payment to cross the river stir riding on a Jackdaw.
The soul is a feathered thing, fluttering untethered in the cross winds of this world enjoying one last ecstasy of freedom and jubilation.
But will the Jackdaw carry you true with the salt-tear sacrifice and your ferry jewel?
When finally you settle next to that river of the dead and the black jack unburden so himself of his load what will you see but magic?
A miracle.
The river stretches out before you so vast to either side that you cannot comprehend its magnitude
You are but a gnat buzzing on the water's edge of oblivion, insignificant, inconsequential, minute.
The blood orange sun hangs on the horizon glowing tangerine.
Like a mirage it hangs inverted on the water's surface, an intangible reflection of a star, inconceivably magnificent.
A sound greets your ears as a boat glides towards you water slapping gently at the sides, oars dripping, trickling.
All at once you know what you must do and step across to the boat,ms lipping on slimed banks, falling on board in a tumble.
A lean hooded figure stands at the prow offering no helping hand as you right yourself for the journey steadying your absent breath.
The air about you seems suddenly full of expectation, bloated.
The oars push away from the bank and slowly the bow ploughs a furrow into deeper water moving as if bewitched.
"You are mine now belovéd"

The copyright of this post belongs to Holly Khan