Humanity Mankind’s only hope is flight and he must learn it after take-off.
If only he could fly…
That eagle soaring toward him could serenely take the canyon rim, and wheel and turn above it, without a thought of rocks below. How did she do it?
Subdued by desperation, Humanity Mankind reconfigures… a sudden willing, watching, fledgling.
“She soars on nothing! What is there that holds her up? Allows those graceful turns and easy risings? No flapping in her wings; legs tucked under her body. I’ll try that! Why is she so confident? What is her strength? She has no fear. I want that too. Oh, Eagle! I will your little eaglet be; if only you will speak to me!”
“Oh Mankind, let us fly together. What you lack in plume and feather, you will find within your heart!”
This eagle voice echoes in his head; not in his ears. It calms him. Age-old blither voices fade away and fear is gone. He stretches out his arms, like wings; legs together, body straight. The frightened runner feels a warm wind lifting him, steady and secure. Some invisible flow has taken hold upon the moment.
“She answered me! She will teach me flight! I’m ready, Mother Eagle. How shall I do it?”
The early morning sun finds man and eagle soaring side by side. Wordless words flow softly to and fro. Sweet prayer rises to the heavens, calling forth an eternity of power. Off-guard completely, this man’s man settles into love. He rides those thermal drafts from somewhere deep within the danger zone.
She sings to him. He can’t believe it! Suspended there, his past encasings fall away. His shackles…feet and hands…just fall away. Injured eyes, torn hair, scratched skin, warring fingers…all like snakeskin, peel away and plummet to the past; like clues for archeologists, into his first earth’s clefting.
Oh, lighter and at peace, Humanity Mankind listens to his heart. Not eagle’s song, but Other. A Holy Sound! Coming from the universe…
No…from far above the universe. A thrumming, pulsing, happy Voice! A human-sounding Holy Voice:
“Humanity Mankind! Are you willing to fly? You have a Sage beside you. Her name is Nature and she is Mine, as all of them have been. Her lantern is the sun. Now, fly with her across the canyon rim and on beyond. You needn’t run in darkness anymore; but wing your way, a new creation, far, far beyond your highest hopes! You are aloft. Your soul is safe. So, sing the Eagle Song and come to Me, My Son!”
And, as they fly, wings spring from him and woman springs from her. Lovers, angel-like, they soar beyond that chasm, soon behind them and forgotten. One, the soul and one, the song. One, the lamp and one, the light. One, the spark and one, the flame…
“One, the Sage and one, the Seeker. Humanity Mankind has come of age!”
(The End) Written by Linda J. Brown, August 11, 1993
Loft was bought by deeds like this. A little loft kept Humanity Mankind from sinking further; but many deeds and many prayers were needed, for the leaden elements were in a state of panic. They sensed the end and strove to win the moment for themselves. If there was to be any last moment, let it be for them, they reasoned. “Eat, drink, and be merry, for tomorrow…or even in just a second…we may die!” Such thoughts brought sink and canceled out the loft. Hopelessness infected all, threatened all, with lead and baser elements. Mere helium had to stay on its toes to keep its spirits up.
And so, man hangs, while dawn creeps up the canyon. What will be his fate?
He hasn’t many choices. If “Heavy” wins, he plummets to the bottom, to be roiled by ice-cold, dashing waters; gnawed by sharks, piranha, and huge, man-eating clams. Then, he will crawl, half-eaten, to the sand, and taking decades, get his breath and health and strength, only to face the unforgiving granite cliff sides towering, like prison walls between him and his future. With untold pain, he will have to scale them, somehow, leaving generations sloughed on tiny, craggy ledges. He will not die, however. That is certain. The Sage has guaranteed it. But, the hard way, will be hard. That too, is guaranteed.
The middle way would be to flounder, zig-zagging up and down. Neither borne aloft, nor totally in a tumble, as elements within him cancel each other out. It is conceivable that such a klutz might reach the canyon wall and gain a toe-hold. He could avoid the ruin awaiting him below, but what a strain to get a purchase on a sheet of black obsidian. And, one purchase will not do for long. There must be another, and another, and another, if progress would be made and not entrapment on a weathered, hostile ledge.
(To be continued…)