She knew only how free she was, how the darkness removed the bonds from her heart and her soul. Somewhere in the impending dawn, she was a slave to opinion, a gilded bird in a tattered bamboo cage, and all her songs were only noises to fill the white space of her enslavement.
Flying over the cobbled streets, feet bare and skin chilled with the night, alive, prickling, tingled eyes flared wide, she was fully open to the ardor of her own divinity, and fully defended against the overbearing will of those who would own her.
In an eternal night, she would be always free, but sunrise was ever looming over the horizon, pearling the sky and signaling the end of her dreams of flight. With the dawn she was returned, trapped, imprisoned by flesh and the demands of the world. Knowing the false promises of night and the myth of love, her cage was a hard comfort, the bars real to the touch as the night left only fading memories of feeling free.
Image is Songhees, copyright Photos by Heather, (used with permission). I have walked this path many nights, seen this mythical city of light in person on those rambles and in all lights. I still miss my island home, but I doubt I will ever return.
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