In a cocoon of a white blanket a lone soul travels, a child of the universe. A giver of many lessons and a taker of many tales. A sojourner of many journeys.
An emerger from darkness to light to exist into a whole new world. On a sea of silver water a cinereal ship passes. Its ancient wood concaved to be that of a swan. A bird of grace and regality. A bird of honour. A keeper of time immemorial from birth to life a soul returns to be with that of the eternal and infinite.
In a blanket of white a cocooned soul passes on the wings of the dove song to enter into a world of light. A primal world that needs no introduction.
It is here where the old soul learns to be or not to be. The line of passing ever forth. From light to darkness emerging into a whole new world as a cry from a new babe. A new soul cocooned in white blankets that shrouds the fragile body within. Blankets that hide the secret of life until all turns to silver sunbeams that are as pale as moonbeams.
A cinereal ship falls on the swells of time for ever navigating and travelling the circumference of eternal consciousness from darkness to light emerging into a whole new world. A world of light, a world of love, a world of knowing that is beyond feeling. A world that departs from pain and loss.
A world of veiled light.
Cascading waves balm the shrouded soul into the light waters it goes to exist in purity and bliss. A new soul travels to be welcomed in the arms of old.
Sunlight celebrates and moonlight mourns for the shrouded soul who will never travel down the pebbled roads.
In the abyss of a dark room surrounded by dark walls awakened eyes open. Eyes that have journeyed near and far. Eyes that have welcomed in the realm of knowing. Eyes that beheld the silver seas of light.
A joyous smile spreads on the person's face "Mama, mama," a young voice calls. "He is awake."
A blinding light is turned on a light that burns and prickles like sparks of a wild fire. Tears visit to ebb the awakened pain. A face falls before him, a companion of many journeys.
The traveller rasps out only a few words against his young body feeling the pull forth, smelling the salty air of silver seas, hearing gulls calling from the nearest shore.
The words, "I'm coming, I'm coming," are whispered against the tide. From life to death an eternal ships wheel turns.
The passage of time lands. "I'm going home, I'm going home," is chanted as a joyous celebration of the heart dances.
Companions on the journey cry. For waves of loss are tormenting the shores of their hearts like a winter crescendo of wind and water. Silver tears spray out of their eyes and light weeps. For sorrow is visiting and the lone call of an owl is the maestro of a tearful orchestra.
On the branches of whimsy a lone dove flies to its new companion. With the help of the cosmic angels the travelling soul is shrouded in blankets, for not to remember this journey as they fly to the cinereal ship on a horse of clouded wings that kneels with deep humility on the forward deck.
An ancient passage has begun. One of life and death and back again if that suits ones fancy. From birth to life a new soul returns to the cocoon of the white blankets. An emerger of darkness into a whole new world. A traveller of many journeys passes on the wings of a swan and the call of a dove as pale cosmic light shines upon the traveller of life and infinite love.