I never heard the stories my mother told in quiet voice and calm way. I never curled in her lap as she stroked back my hair and whispered the stories till I would dream of them. Still I heard the stories, and as I aged I began to understand them and their script was poetry in my thoughts. I waited for the nights I would hear them again in my head, tendrils of scrawling ink that would fill my mind to the brim. The stories painted themselves to life and in those nights I felt safe. I felt warm. I felt the intertwine of the dreams to the one I dreamed of as if he were my own.
The stories with the visions were always the sweetest to bring me comfort in the coldest of nights. There in the darkest nights when the moon knew not its shine I felt the presence of the one I searched for
in the path of spirits and sometimes would find. Always to know him until the sun rose. It was then the one I searched for was nothing more then a mirage, another story on my tongue never to be spoken.
They had planned on doing whatever they could to keep me from
searching. Upon my sixteenth birthday the clarity and the sight had struck me, taking me over more then the medicine ever could. They had started to realize that even with taking me from my mother that I would still know the stories.
They were within me, those wolves of the Moon Mother. The Moon Mother and the wolves would remain with me through the light and the dark. I no longer dreamed of them, now I searched for them. I found after the sixteenth year of my life that there was something in me they feared.
They sought to control me, to take all I ever knew and silence my mind. The picks that sought my temples to make me as their own had missed and had blinded me. The Order though was not fond of confessing to mistakes, they made up the excuse. Always an excuse to soothe the
Head of the Order and keep him content to know that his little patchwork girl, his Beauty was still his. That there were no beasts that would claim her, his Beauty.
Who would want the Beauty once she had been blinded, that was his theory no matter how much they sought to use me. I still did not know why they chose to use me, what purpose I had, what made me so significant in comparison to the rest.
The wolves of the Moon Mother were mine to know and mine alone. The alpha male possessed the strongest howl in the night where bells would chime and angels found wings. There was a grace in the way of the stories, how one could find feathers amongst those that traveled with four feet under.
I dreamed still of wolves that were not wolves and the soft sanctuary of the Moon Mother's wishes. Wishes. Once I had spoken of wishes to the one they saw as their forged Pandora...their sacred Eve and she had smiled and told me another story.
Now there was nothing more then words to hear and the stories to remember for my eyes would never see again the scrolling penmanship I had knew once so well.
It would not stop the dreams, nor the visions as nothing would stop me from seeing what I needed to see to know again. To know what I had lost. I did not need to see to know what I was meant to love. To know was to go without sight.
I accepted their punishment and torment without remorse. I knew well of the salvation to come if I was willing to be patient. To be rewarded in the
blessings of finding once again the wolves of the Moon Mother.
I waited, walking free now within their surveillance but still now able to walk freely without sight and yet possessing more sight then ever I could imagine.
They would come for me. After all I was nothing more then bait to them.
Nothing more then bait to lure the weaker heart of man or what would come to pass in order to bring forth the heroes.
Still I was awakening, holding on to the small secret I possessed of the power awakening within... a gift to share with the world.
The stories with the visions were always the sweetest to bring me comfort in the coldest of nights. There in the darkest nights when the moon knew not its shine I felt the presence of the one I searched for
in the path of spirits and sometimes would find. Always to know him until the sun rose. It was then the one I searched for was nothing more then a mirage, another story on my tongue never to be spoken.
They had planned on doing whatever they could to keep me from
searching. Upon my sixteenth birthday the clarity and the sight had struck me, taking me over more then the medicine ever could. They had started to realize that even with taking me from my mother that I would still know the stories.
They were within me, those wolves of the Moon Mother. The Moon Mother and the wolves would remain with me through the light and the dark. I no longer dreamed of them, now I searched for them. I found after the sixteenth year of my life that there was something in me they feared.
They sought to control me, to take all I ever knew and silence my mind. The picks that sought my temples to make me as their own had missed and had blinded me. The Order though was not fond of confessing to mistakes, they made up the excuse. Always an excuse to soothe the
Head of the Order and keep him content to know that his little patchwork girl, his Beauty was still his. That there were no beasts that would claim her, his Beauty.
Who would want the Beauty once she had been blinded, that was his theory no matter how much they sought to use me. I still did not know why they chose to use me, what purpose I had, what made me so significant in comparison to the rest.
The wolves of the Moon Mother were mine to know and mine alone. The alpha male possessed the strongest howl in the night where bells would chime and angels found wings. There was a grace in the way of the stories, how one could find feathers amongst those that traveled with four feet under.
I dreamed still of wolves that were not wolves and the soft sanctuary of the Moon Mother's wishes. Wishes. Once I had spoken of wishes to the one they saw as their forged Pandora...their sacred Eve and she had smiled and told me another story.
Now there was nothing more then words to hear and the stories to remember for my eyes would never see again the scrolling penmanship I had knew once so well.
It would not stop the dreams, nor the visions as nothing would stop me from seeing what I needed to see to know again. To know what I had lost. I did not need to see to know what I was meant to love. To know was to go without sight.
I accepted their punishment and torment without remorse. I knew well of the salvation to come if I was willing to be patient. To be rewarded in the
blessings of finding once again the wolves of the Moon Mother.
I waited, walking free now within their surveillance but still now able to walk freely without sight and yet possessing more sight then ever I could imagine.
They would come for me. After all I was nothing more then bait to them.
Nothing more then bait to lure the weaker heart of man or what would come to pass in order to bring forth the heroes.
Still I was awakening, holding on to the small secret I possessed of the power awakening within... a gift to share with the world.