A Wandering Star

Lonely angels create dreams, I think.  Beautiful, wondrous dreams to keep them company.  Dreams of forests and cities and men.  I think lonely children create imaginary friends for similar reasons.  Nobody wants to face the unfathomable depths of existence alone.  I have spent a lot of time at the high place.  The secret place, unseen by unkind or unworthy eyes.  Wandering through the woods of my imagination.  Always alone.  But strange things can happen in the woods, among the trees.  An angel can begin to hear things.  Subtle things.  The murmur of hallow-guardians.  Or the ancient tongue of river-wraiths, still sparkling like the old majesties.  Alone in the woods an angel begins to hear the bleating of a frightened fawn. Sometimes we think it a figment.  Ageless, supernal.  Crown of the earth, nadir of the sky.  But maybe these things are not figments.  Perhaps those dreams are real.  Once, not so long ago, I too was a boy in the woods.  A lost boy of antlers and branch.  Always wandering, trying so desperately not to see.  But the harder I tried to shut my eyes the quicker the visions came.  Broken souls, ruined worlds.  The annihilation of all light and hope.  But sometimes I would catch a glimpse of something truly beautiful.  A lantern for the lost.  An echo of a future friendship.  Sometimes I found myself tracing the path of an imagined floating light.  On earth as it is in heaven.  Searching the woods and the wilds for something good.  A single drop of divine sunlight.  Like rain.  As I said, it gets lonely in the realm between realms.  But I know now how precious a dream can be.  A song, a dance or kiss.  Imagined or otherwise.  I made a wish, you see, and my dream came true.  In more ways than one.  I studied, and I prayed.  I searched the endless and I spoke with my Father.  It was all part of the wish.  And so he showed me the nature of grace.  The ways of courage and kindness.  He told me the truth about love, and distance.  I'm older now, but I'm still that boy alone in the woods.  Except I'm not lost anymore.  Or lonely.  My heart is still your star, beloved, and it's full of light.