Every time I ask the question, I get the same answer. My job is to be her and be.
Perhaps that is why all the lines are key. All these faint and followed graphite marks across the vastness of the world, perhaps they are why it remains both the hardest and the calmest of occupations for me. The dictation of this month is March, and I feel like my time now is to explore it fully, like a part of me is working on the coming to of terms.
Like after grieving, but before moving on.
It’s not stagnation, it’s more like an in between. I think the Waiting House keeps sensing me memories, and reminding me of who I am. Sometimes, I nearly don’t recall.
It’s like I’m in the middle, trying all the while to integrate, integrate.
I keep getting these visions and sometimes I don’t know what to do. Like I don’t know where the real is anymore, but still, it is all right there, right here; It’s all real. I always feel this overwhelming, too, like love, and I wonder if my lovers can feel me as I see them. I wonder if they have this same sense of closeness in the night.
And what do I keep dreaming? There is just so much light ….
Everywhere, there has been all light. Up North, riding the Polaris Express past the Fjords, watching the Origin lights shine up from beneath the sparkles of moonlight on the water, there I also saw, and everything was light
And every time I ask, what should I be doing?, all the conductors just stare at me and repeat, you navigate.
They tell me, you navigate. You navigate again. You navigate another ending.
Break out of the cycle and create another road. I feel like I keep fighting it because some rational side of someone else’s construct says to me, that makes no sense, you make no sense. And then the lights come shining, candle flaming, wings and heartbeat, and no, this is who you are. This is what you do. And I realize that the waiting is only my on (im)motion.
There is so much light….
There at the depot, and I knew exactly where I was, they wouldn’t let me look, at first, because then I would have yearning, and with yearning, I would want to return, and I am still needed here. I am still part of this greater plan, this Map of All Things. Standing at the depot, I am left to look now, down the platform, at the departing train, but I am not startled when it is a lover who comes to take my hand, to lead me away and explain.
I have no words, but only the feeling, the closeness of tongues and touch, and I thought, do my lovers know? They must.
to be continued ….