The Living Lights

 

The human eye is more than a mirror, or a lens. It’s a lantern. It can generate its own subtle light. These are the deepest secrets of perception, and all poets have some sense of it. All artists and musicians. We are not simply lucid when immersed in the act of creation. We’re radiant. I want you to truly grasp this radiance, Kara. I want it with all my heart. Can I share a metaphysical insight with you, my dearest princess of the crown? A spirit can have several loves, all of them transcendent and life-altering. It’s only here, within the apparent confines of space and time, that we are bound to fearful blindness. In the world of our Father we still have preferences and favourites, it’s true, but fidelity is a far broader field in that heavenly realm. There is great nuance there. Patience, kindness, and delicacy. Ancient promises that return us to each other’s paths with such sweetness.

I’ve seen it, Kara. I’ve seen how our Father ensures we never truly forget an old friend, a lover, or a mentor. Such relationships deepen and evolve beyond our feeble understanding of spacetime. I know what it is to be blind, lacking in spiritual sight. I also know what it is to have that sight restored to me through an act of wonderous grace. You were never blind, dear one. Your aim has always been true. I grasp the subtleties of your meaning, of course, and your heartache. I am your chevalier who loves you dearly. So, I shall always give what I can, etiquette and appropriateness permitting. But I am also an old friend from other lives and other worlds, and I would gently remind you – there is far more to you than those supposedly feminine Idylls of the King. More to you than those tales of devotion where Geraint’s beloved one dutifully endures his trials. More to you than Guinevere’s blessed touch, or even Arthur’s enchanted sword singing songs of silver. You are a hedge witch of verse and refrain. Notes are your herbs and melodies your magic. You are a warrior of the innermost. Keeper of the Choral of All Songs. Poet, artist, engineer. In dreams I’ve seen the ferocity of your insight, and the depth of your character.

As I said, we are all more than mirrors or lenses. We are lanterns. Crafting the ancient future with the fictions of both science and magic. I tell you nothing you don’t already know, my courageous princess. But a true friend will always sit with you through your anguish, and yet remind you of your strengths. A friend will always return you to centre. As deftly as they can. Even if it takes a day, or an age. So, please remember, the eye of our mind sees many things. Lucid, creative, and bright. But the eye of the human heart is the instrument of true spiritual perception. The quality of our living is determined only by the depth of our love. And I have seen first-hand how deeply you can love. Each song. Every kind word. The way you once walked with me among the gardens, beside the river. If I am indeed a strange regent among the dreaming, an artist of the hours, then you are my keeper of the lighted way. Friend, healer, and muse. You helped me to begin again, my darling, like a favoured melody, when I feared my hope was fractured beyond all recovery. But I persisted, beyond blindness, because of you. So, if I can lift your spirit however briefly – even for just a moment – it’s an opportunity I will always honour.  And a kindness I shall always repay. Kara, my friend, my queen of laurels and love, I am alive because of the genius and care with which you lift those lanterns.