Healing

In the many lights in the skies, there was a particular light that his attention went towards. There were many stars, but one star seemed to speak. When he sat there in the night, quiet, wounded, the star spoke. Not in the words of human language. But in sounds that only the universe makes. The sounds of silence.

The light of the star was the light within. Beneath the skin, beneath the physical body, as if there was another body. It was the light of being alive – bright, silver, refulgent, but also quivering from the attacks it had suffered. The light of the star shone more brightly, as if breathing, expanding to a fullness one moment and shrinking to a concentrated brightness the next. The two lights connected, resonated. There was oneness.

The light body was then covered with a sheath of liquid, also in light. It was protection that the stars had sent. The cool, soft sheath spread over the body, keeping it safe from the harshness of the world. The tenderness flowed all over. The quivering stopped. Stillness arrived.

The communion with the heavens was complete. In the darkness of outer space, the stars shone, still, silent but refulgent. In the darkness of the night on earth, in the darkness of the room, the human body shone, still, silent, but refulgent. The wounds were purged away, there was flowering of the delicateness that makes the heart what it is. There was healing.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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~ by tdcatss on July 28, 2017.

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