“The road goes ever on…”
She had read that in a book somewhere and
never thought much about it.
Now all she could do was think,
while plodding steadily on.
How are we all tangled together in this strange story?
Why are we?
And how will it end?
The whispersong washed over her like molten honey,
like golden light.
‘Like the tears of the moon…’ it sang
Why, she puzzled, would the moon weep?
“M.O.O.N. spells moon”, she thought and laughed a little,
remembering the tale of another that found himself on a journey he didn’t understand.
The sword shone pewter and violet in the night sky,
the dirt and smudges polished away by her own hand.
The stone shone clear as the stars,
and she touched it with reverence,
full understanding eluding her,
like a silvery fish slipping through a carelessly mended net.
But thankful anyway,
for her part in this,
and for the tourmaline visions.
Knowing she would never be able to go back to her old,
pragmatic life again,
knowing that she was more now,
that she had moved beyond…
It was then she stopped
at the crest of the hill,
and saw the ancient stone remains below.
‘Journeys end…’ they sang together.