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THE ANCIENT ONES OR "IS NOT THAT AN ELFIN* ANGEL I SEE BEHIND YOUR EYES? Far beyond another time, deeply within a distant place - they met. Cloaked as saintly priests they moved through the catacombs of an ancestral home and within the Great Hall - 'They conspired.** Deeply sincere, yet mischievously impish, 'Embellished with solitude, yet steeped in joyous celebration. 'Their eyes strangely familiar, yet their forms as mystical elves - They planned. And in these dreams they etched their schemes. The various missions and roles accepted with the eager hunger of actors questing parts. The story traced the dream as if an artist's hand were searching the canvas for a masterpiece of the soul. When the work was done their tiny mouths turned upward and reflected a joy that echoed through the Great Hall. 'With one breath they drew together and melted into one. As the breath released itself the stately elves vanished. 'The gallant hall melted into vapor and in its place appeared a paradise garden blessed with a myriad of forms of life in graceful balance - The journey had begun. Many millenniums passed as bitter agonies were laced with sweet ecstasies. The illusions like webs were woven, until the first chapter was complete and the veil engulfed the memory. Realities of home faded. The crystalline vision became a half remembered fantasy and they were left with their tangled webs and quiet dreams. Their bodies were different now and the fragile minds they spawned raced to grasp a vapor that seemed lost in the rains of their new home. And they questioned. And they quested. Searching the dawn for their own awakening they journeyed through the mist - Wandering and Wondering. Seeking the eyes, the glance that knew, the dream that would somehow rekindle and reflect the answer. As time passed, they found the eyes, 'Even as time brought the glance of the Others - They doubted, their hearts wrested with the frustrations of their fears, yet they began to join: to re-member. Not knowing why they continued to touch again. As is a vast hand were silently guiding the orchestration of their movements. As if a child were grasping for the courage to share a dream - They whispered their deeper secrets in the quiet of their guarded intimacy. At times they still wonder and they doubt. The fear of depth cause them to cling to the twigs and even at times to hurt those that walk beside them. Yet they work with Fervor, questioning each spectacle in awe and cowering in appreciation before each challenge. As a family of children before a patient parent they struggle to fulfill a promise. A wish and a prayer silently pressing them to continue. From before time, and with an ancient heritage that rivals eternity - The procession continues. It seems difficult at times, to say what their destiny may hold. Will the childish naivete of the Dream overcome the fears and doubts of their reason? Will the resignation that living often brings drown their vision? With frail ships against the sea they press upon the waves as they sail against the wind reaching for a horizon that seems to move as swiftly as their progress. Questing the dawn, praying for winds that may grace their backs and searching the mist for a vapor almost lost in the rain - We shall see. After all "It is" up to you and up to me We all seem to 'be - "Potentially Human'. A child's fantasy Veiling a man's dream, Than words never seem to touch. James Moore Post Script - 'Perhaps 'elf' has something to do with 'self'. *Elfin - having an otherworldly or magical quality or charm. **Conspired - from the Latin root;to breathe together and move as One.
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