Heaven and Earth will converge to bring about a joy that is meant to be.
Forces of Nature
Ophelia Mae Hancock
June 7, 2022
Dedicated to M, my personal Phoenix:
A soft ray of buttery warm sunlight wanders down through the lush canopy of the forest from the brilliant blue sky above. Pennies from heaven. A mist rises, the final sigh of release from Mother Earth's tears that recently blanketed her Son. The fog from such a purge has given renewal to all within this tiny oasis. The jasmine, the honeysuckle, the lilacs, they have all offered up their essence to mate with the mist, and have surrendered their allure, such that all within this sphere can enjoy.
The stream stretches its arms wide to accommodate the volume that has been donated, to accept it into the fold. It is a most welcome addition, yet it adds an energy that must be blended, must be adopted. A bit of introductory growing pains leads to a flurry of enthusiastic ripples along the smooth stones.
The precious fine birds sing their harmony as they flit from branch to branch, delicate wings creating an imperceptible humming for only the most in tune to hear. They speak their chattery language to each other, as if to say, is it not a most beautiful day? Yes Sir, it is on my branch. Yes Ma'am it is too on my branch. Let us rejoice. Let us sing to the heavens.
A cluster of tiny mice emerge from the shelter they have taken in the base of a tree. They are wee, and would be overwhelmed by the torrent of their Mother's tears, so they have taken refuge. All is safe and sound now, dear wees, come dry your fur in the warmth of the Sun. Tiny squeeks of reassurance as they groom each other.
Hanina gives a sigh of refreshment as she feels the dew of redemption trace tiny rivulets down her back, along her shoulders, upon her neck, and tickle at her cheeks. A gentle breeze, the final sighs of the tantrum, cross her body. She softly thrills at the chill, giving her a bit of a reprise from her meditations. Tiny goosebumps rise, slight chatter of teeth, hardening of nipples. Hanina raises upon her knees and allows her head to loll back, to allow her muscles to relax from their form. Her drenched coal dark tendrils cascade down her lithe back, seeming as if adolescent serpents. Droplets of the dew trickle down her spine.
Brrrrr! Hanina feels a chill about her body. Yet it pales in comparison to the chill within her spirit. She longs for the day that she may have it blanketed and have it sated once again. She is quite sure that she will receive the warmth that she so craves and desires, and soon. She senses a promise of reunion within the near future. Give us this day, our daily bread.
Hanina stretches her form much as a lazy cat would in its own personal island of sunlight. She briefly relieves her still muscles of their assignment. Her chest expands as dough coaxed by yeast, as she drinks in the humid air that has been left behind. A droplet of nectar drizzles from her brow, but only the imps of the forest know how much of it is the dew of the rain and how much of it is the dew of her anticipation. The imps, they are quite boisturous, and they enjoy flitting about with playful grins upon their faces, “wouldn't you like to know what I know”, they query.
“And I miss you, like the desserts miss the rain”...
“I can't stand the rain”...
Hanina heaves the heavy sigh that only the lonely soul can find, let alone express. It is filled with the type of longing and desire, that hold a certain promise, in their most soothing of manners. They beckon just within the gossemer thread of touch, of reach, yet the winds of fate sway them from time to time. The fates tease, here it is dear, no, you missed it. We may sway yet again, but we are fickle. You must keep your wits about yourself, nothing worth having comes easily. TRY!
Hanina senses a most comforting and reassuring tiny drone about her ear. Her senses prick up, trying to identify this insistent yet benign alert. She feels the most slightest, most delicate, most seemingly insignicant tickle about her lobe. The most magical, mystical, and whimsical part of her mind, that which has escaped “civilization”, speaks to her. It calls her attention to the fact that although this seems to be nearly insignificant, everything has its place, its time, its rhyme, and its reason. There is no such thing as coincidence, great things come in small packages. Many angels dance upon the head of a pin. This tiny reassuring creature flits within her line of vision for only the briefest of moments. She is able to catch the slightest glimpse of its rainbow of colors of the finest down of feathers. Its miniscule zitt zitt zitt in her ear seems as if it is trying to convey soon soon soon.
Hanina has brought her being into the lush alter of Gaia, the Mother of all, and the most reverant dwelling of Yahweh. She has followed the call of her base instincts, as they have been coaxed from her by Gaia. She has also headed the most sacred beckonings of Yahweh, the Father of all. She is left with a void deep within her, that she has come to this most peaceful of places, in the hopes of it being sated. Gaia comes to her and strokes her still damp hair, caresses her cheek, and cups her chin. She assures her, dear child, your parents will not let you fall. We shall never leave you. Your destined Phoenix is struggling to travel to you from far rugged lands. Your Father has searched for great fortitude, and I, your Mother, has searched for great tenderness, and we have found a prince among men, one deserving of such as you. When Phoenix arrives, you shall cherish him, as he cherishes you, and you shall become one of flesh, one of bone, one of blood, one of otherworldly essence. For what my dear husband, Jahweh, deems to be good in His eyes, should no man question. You shall succumb to your destined one with such a sense of authority that you feel for your Great Father. Worry not, Little One, assures Gaia, I will fortify your Earthly lusts for each other, as your Father will fortify your spirits. Go now, Jahweh exclaims, I have plans of good will for you.
As suddenly as they had materialized, her holy parents had vanished. Yet Hanina is left feeling a certain sense of warm reassurance like a fleecy blanket on a cold February night. She should have no fears, no worries. Look, the little sparrow eats, I shall surely thrive.
The time could be close, the time could be far, the time could come like a thief in the night, but the time will BE. The time that Hanina has dreamt of. All of those broken links, broken bonds, broken promises, broken dreams. She's tried her best to hold the scars together with bubble gum, but it just isn't sweet enough to combat the bitter. It just isn't firm enough to cement the tumultious. It seems as if all in her life has fallen short of the glory. It must be this time. It MUST be this time! I have no more to give, heaves Hanina. So she returns to the promised land.
The Sun is becoming close to the horizon, yet Hanina kneels upon the ground, by the stream, once again. How else will Phoenix be able to find me if I am not in my place, she thinks? She finds herself kneeling upon a dense patch of moss. She gives a smile of contentment as she notes that it both has fortitude and tenderness.
Hanina allows her spine to flow forward, downward, much like a waterfall, succumbing to the forces of nature. She massages her shoulders, tense, from the revelations and endeavors of the day. Yet her day is not quite over, the best is yet to come. She can sense that a monumental event is on its way of approaching her. She both revels and fears at its arrival. She sighs and flexes, deep within thoughts.
Hanina can feel a bit of a soft trampling on the forest floor around her. She can sense that it is nothing to fear. She feels the slightest brush against her neck of a velvety source. She can hear a most soft sighing. She looks up to see the most beautiful fawn gazing at her. Its big beautiful eyes are just so expressive and just convey so much compassion to her. As she raises her head, inquisitive of her newest company, the peaceful fawn touches its nose to hers. Its expression seems to convey a sense of good will. The fawn gently touches the tip of Hanina's nose with the tip of its soft velvet tongue, and gives her a sense of assurance, as if to say soon, soon. Relax my sister, soon, soon. Hanina catches the soft ruffle of the fawn's feet upon the clover, as she drifts away much as tenuous as she appeared.
Another bow, another sigh, but this one pregnant with great possibilities. I wonder what he is like, his presence, his being? What does he look like and how does he sound?, How heady may his scent be and how warm may his touch be? Will he be the one to finally be my bridge over troubled waters? My rainbow in the dark? My imaculate destruction?
Hanina still feels much trepidation deep within her heart and her mind. So many times before has she reached out for a hand in the dark, only for it to be withdrawn. A hand that she had just so much faith in, only to be rejected. She has had to try her best to harden her heart, but it has just been an exercise in futility. A heart such as hers can never be tamed. It will not cooperate. It is much as stubborn as a toddler wanting to cry out MINE, MINE, MINE!!! It burns way too bright and way too hot for it's own good. It is relentless, and that is what makes it so beautiful. If at first you don't succeed...
It has been so hard for Hanina to contain her feral insanity. So hard to suppress her unreasonable passions. Very difficult to try and soothe the longing she constantly feels for finding just the right one, who will not forsake her, and will redeem her. The one who will complete her. She longs for him like the desserts long for the rains. Like the Autumn leaves long to shed themselves so they can once again sprout anew. Like the Winter freeze longs to be thawed by the Spring renewal. Like the Lamb of Spring longs to yield into the Lion of Summer, and reap it's harvest.
And a time to every purpose under Heaven...
Hanina can begin to hear crickets chirping and frogs croaking. Twilight has about laid itself down for the coming of the evening.
Where is Phoenix?
Where is the one that will rise from the ashes?
As if her musings had triggered The Fates, she begins to hear a rustling. Foot falls through brush. Labored breathing from traversing the terrain. A sense of determination in seeking her out.
Her heart is nearly beating out of her chest, and she feels so faint in excitement and anticipation.
Hanina stays in her kneeling position. She must be able to fully present herself to her Promised One. Foot falls are right upon her now. Labored breathing as if right into her ear. A musky scent hanging in the air.
It becomes a struggle for Hanina to remain in her knelt position and not collapse to the ground under the powerful moment.
She feels a hand upon her shoulder...
It is quite firm in its strength, yet also quite yielding in its compassion. There is a sense about it that while so foreign, feels like the embrace of a lifelong friend.
It is all that Hanina has hoped for...
She can feel this most welcome hand gently and slowly glide from her shoulder, across her neck, and up to cup her chin. She can feel a reassuring force draw her head up.
Their eyes meet...
And she knows...
There he is, my Phoenix!
Hanina's heart beats so that she is utterly overcome. She collapses upon the ground.
Phoenix goes to her, so concerned for the well-being of his new beloved. She is his vulnerable little child to cherish, the one that has been promised to him for ages. She is the one that he has taken every breath in anticipation of possessing.
He kneels before her, grasping her shoulders, steadies her, and draws her up. He calls out "Hanina, Hanina" until she becomes lucid.
"PHOENIX", she exclaims, and draws him to her.
Hanina lets her feelings flow in a most animated way.
"I belong to you now, my dear Phoenix. I am yours. I am your most prized possession. I am yours to either lavish with affection, or lavish with pain, as you see fit. I follow your desires. I belong to you now, my dear Phoenix."
Phoenix holds Hanina to his chest with every fiber of his being. He can sense her deep sobs and labored breathing, and his heart hurts for her restlessness. So he holds her closer and tighter, hoping for her to feel his love through the intensity of his grasp. He focuses on slowing his breathing, holding her, chest to chest, hoping for the new found serenity of his heart beat to bring hers into harmony.
He seems to be able to sooth the savage beast...
"Do with me as you will, my dear Phoenix".
"I shall never abuse you"
"I shall never take you too far"
"But I WILL take you there"
"I will not oppress you"
"I will free you"
The fire flies have begun to flit all about, casting their little rays of hope upon the world in their diffuse own way, as if in hopes of a bit of light here and there will be infectuous.
And so it begins...