In the Eternal sunshine rode a horse with its rider, galloping without pause,
It arrived at its destination, a small circular hut, where the Shaman was awaiting …
The rider dismounted and rummaged in his leather bag, looking for something: it was
The Silver Goblet, entrusted to him by the Arch-mage of the South.
The horse, eating grass, remained by the side of the yurt, occasionally whinnying,
While the rider strode before the flap of the dwelling and lowered his eyes, reverently.
After a long while, the denizen of the hut emerged, flowing, in robes like lively ivory, with tresses like the green grass flowing in the breeze;
She opened herself to the outside air, the incense and smoke within escaping into the cool air of the plains;
The rider, chalice in hand, descended to his knees, gracefully, and offered the Cup to his Maiden.
She took it carelessly, as if it had been a trinket left by accident at her door; and the rider
Did not move.
He spoke carefully to the Shaman, thus:
“Dear One, I have traveled across these lands to implore thee … make thy wandering magic into a Home;
Depart; leave thy yurt and traverse the snowy steppe with me;
Teach me how to love; give me your wine;
Fill my sorrow-cup with your Joy.”
The woman – for though She appeared like an Elf or some other Faerie creature, she was a woman indeed –
Descended to her feet, no longer floating like a cloud on the warm breezes emanating from her room within;
She embraced the rider with her whole bosom, and looked into his eyes with her own;
The horse beside the hut whinnied interestedly, looking at them with delight and curiosity; its grass no longer holding its attention.
She embraced the rider and, giving him her hand, led him within to Her chamber; and there they made love upon the sacred grasses which had been fashioned into a bed;
Her wine flowed, and his silver chalice captured it, in its solid, gleaming flesh;
And their union spilled over onto the trees which did not grow upon that plain, but rather emerged on the other side of the Earth, in Amazon forests and other places of great heat and moisture;
And the birds which knew only dryness and salty earth rose, gracefully, seeking the light of Peace;
And so it was that these two beings consummated their existence within each other’s hearts;
And the rider no longer was a rider, but a husband;
And the Shaman no longer practiced her healing arts alone in the world, but now was a wife;
And together they became messengers of Peace for humanity,
And the Truth became flesh;
And the world was healed from within.
"Shaman Rises to the Sky" watercolor and india ink on paper
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