Wind's Promise

Wind, in her whirling gentle mastery, twisted softly through the creaking wooden shutters, flaking with the touch of golden years, then wound her way around the bedpost and circled over the blue duvet until, finally, sealing the last crystal tear upon the youth’s familiar face. “That will be the last for tonight, my dear,” she whispered in that breathless way of her’s, yet Wind did not let the youth lie alone. Adoration and Fear drove her in their mystery. Love has its own forms of torture. The crystals trailed intricately and strikingly from the child’s aged, mossy eyes, weaving down her cheeks and over her collarbones towards the spot above her slow, beating heart. There, the crystals spiked in glittering brilliance towards the heavens, as if reaching out to the sun and stars...as if gravity does not exist. Tears are not clear, Wind observed as she made her way over the child’s icy, marble skin, but are surely a faint ocean blue that reflect a curious golden iridescence in the light...or perhaps it is just this one’s.

Far off, buried within the source of such brilliance, one can glimpse a boy with shining maple locks and freckles splattered across his tanned nose and cheekbones. His earth colored eyes pierce wildly and cunningly from between the leaves and his hands glow blue with magic as he pulls aside the branches, striding elegantly through the forest. A magnificent roar sounds far to the west, and suddenly he sprints off into the deep...fading into memory, and then, into feeling...Splotches of amber, dust, coal, and moonlight stroke together to form the silky coat of an old, intimate soul. His breath is warm and those chocolate eyes have melted many sorrows away. A woman came from the north with her blood red rope and led him away...his skunk-like tail fading to grey and then to nothing...The moon turns its face and upon it are large, round eyes as endless as the yonder night sky. It’s pale countenance traces into the form of an owl, clothed as a warrior with steel tipped talons and a mask covering the scars that burn black across his feathers. He carries a burning ember that shines blue-green at its core. As he soars off into the abyss, that blue-green melts into the dark, fading...ever fading. A forest of faces flash over and over...each fading into memory and feeling until, finally, one remains. This one holds the light and life of the sun in her voice and the depth and mystery of the ocean in her sea-grey eyes. She brings God and magic in her wake and her presence is a thought that cannot end, but exists fully and continues eternally. Bells ring and wings beat and the lands rejoice...and the youth’s love coats the living like ashes and mist as the image grows more vivid every moment…

“This one will not leave you, my child” Wind whispered in that breathless way of hers as she stroked her icy marble skin and twisted through the youth’s loose, straight locks. Love has its own forms of torture. A new tear trailed its way towards a crystal at the child’s heart, until resting at its sharp, glittering peak. Wind sighed tenderly, curling her way about the air in her solemn duty, “I promise.”