The Knitting Journeyman

Gathering Up One Thread At A Time As I Weave This Web Of Mine.....

Saturday, March 28, 2009


How do I explain to you who I am? I am the Bourn, and yet I am Unbourn. I am the Blessed, and yet I live a Cursed existence. I Fly, and yet I have no wings. Never have I been Cast Out, and yet, I am no longer allowed Entry. How do I show you what I am? How can I align parameters to allow you to explore the box of what it is to be me, when I do not fit within any known rules? I am. I merely am. That is all I can be.
I was brought into being by the Breath of the Great Creator. The Great Creator molded the Breath into my form. The Creator chose the hue of my eyes, the silk of my hair, the fullness of my lips. I remember the grand beautiful shining eyes and wide smile so full of grace. The Creator upon producing me gave me great blessing, kissed my cheek, whispered into my soul, and set me off upon my Path. How could I have been happier?
I was given to a People on a remote island. I had been sent to give them messages of love and kindness. I taught them to grow wheat, to forge fires, to establish homes and family unity. I did what I was created to do. It was such bliss. We lived in such delicate harmony.
The one day, the skies began to darken. Nothing I did could calm the storms or to appease the gods. I huddled with my people as the oceans spat mountains of waves at us. I fought to protect the village, the lives. I did the best I could. I fought so hard. In the end, however, I lost everything. The seas reclaimed the bit of island, swallowing it whole beneath the briny swells. How can I describe to you how very lost I was then? How bitterly ashamed I became, having spoiled my only task given to me by the Great One? I had failed. My people were gone. There would never a trace of them resurface, not in this world. So bereft was I, I could not even aid in the transit of their souls to the next world. I watched as faeries gleaming came to rescue them, to fulfill my final duties to them.
My heart was more than heavy as I turned my face Homeward, returning to seek my Maker, to explain, to seek counsel, to seek forgiveness. Ah, this was not to be. As I drew closer, there were signs of a Terrible War. Others like me were scattered, wounded, dying, deprived. They glared at me, still clean, as they were scorched and blackened, sullied by their Humanity. I saw no acceptance from my brethren there. I came to the Gate, a Gate that always stood wide open and welcoming, only to find it barred shut, locked up tight for all Eternity from the likes of me. There was a toad-like creature guarding the door, a common thing, boasting of its own bravery, condemning me for my folly and my obvious lack of involvement. I did turn, looking around despondently, to find a group of others, more like me, clean and yet somehow tainted. Not Impure. Not Cast Out. No longer wholly Accepted. We were all, confused. Uncertain. We were all intent upon pleading our various cases to the only One who could free us from our self-imposed tyranny.
This was not to be. The Grand One, a Lesser thing than the Great Creator, came to inform us that since we had chosen not to battle at all for either Side, we were to live and to remain among the Fallen. We cried out, what battle, what war? We had no information. We were, ignored. The Grand One declined to tarry any longer with the likes of us. For some, there was much weeping and wailing and some commiserating. Plans were formed. Goals were designed. Some set off in pairs, in small groups. Most of us left alone, padding away into the Shadows, seeking succor elsewhere within ourselves. Surely, the Heart of our Great Creator was not so High nor so Bold as to exclude us for long. Surely, the Great Creator would see the folly, see the error, and would us recall.
Alas, yet again, this was not to be. For a thousand thousand years have I wandered. Often I catch glimpses of my own kind, The Fallen, The Not Fallen, and the Chosen. The Dark, the Grey, and the Light. We all seem to Walk our own Way. I don’t know what else to say. Since my original purpose was to help and to heal the People, I have done what I can in this regard. It seems I can now Walk upon both Sides, though I am careful to remain neutral. I have allies from both sides, but I am neither of one nor the other. I am the careful middle of the road, hoping that I am making the best choices for those I allow myself to help.
Often, I am Called to give Aid. Not all of those who Call understand what they are doing. There are so-called Priests out there who Call in the name of this or that, only to find themselves unwittingly surrounded by the Dark Ones in Other Guises. Some would care; most I have seen do not. For most, it is only the Power they seek, not the Truth of things. For these, I do nothing. I walk away, unseen and untouched, not an ounce of pity for them in my heart.
Yet there came one bourn from us, bourn a child of a human and a Not Fallen One. I watched the Spark during conception. I had to follow it, to watch it. Such a tiny little thing, with the green eyes of the Seer and the golden red hair of the Damned. She indeed carried the gene. A first daughter of a first daughter, bourn of a very powerful line of first daughters. I would step in from time to time, to See her, to Watch her. I could not interfere. She was one of us, the Not Fallen. I watched as the Knight used her as Bait and as Sacrifice, to save his own life and to bind her to him to protect him from the Dark Lord for however many lifetimes it took for her to realize and to break free. I watched as the Blue Duke married her in an offer of protection, only to stab her upon a wall and feast upon her Blood and Spirit, until she was stolen away in the dark by one as a child. I watched again as she was married off, an unwilling yet amenable bride, only to be beaten wretchedly and exiled, with a Protector, to wander the husband’s territory until her demise. Again and again, this Creature came up, bringing her Force with her, until she Manifested the life and began to take charge. The battle wounds were charged and sewn shut. The metal pinings removed and smelted. Although her feet still swelled, she moved with grace and overcame that mystery. She moved forward, gathering her allies to her, until a Past Acquaintance came to her, requesting her Aid as Counsel.
This Daughter of the Lake went before the White Crest, before the Man Himself, before the Lords and Ladies, the White Counsel, and she performed her task as befitted Royalty, for surely she is the Queene herself. I watched from Afar; I was permitted no closer. It was lucky the Dark Forces were there, as well as the Grey Ones, standing Against her Charge. Else I would not have been granted the ability to come so close. So eloquent was She, in her fine skirts, and rolling robes. Those eyes never changed, the infinite shift of the green, flashing with the Knowledge of her own veracity.
After this Counsel, the Man Himself Blessed her, wiping away the Grey, turning her farther from the neutral area of the side of the Dark. He stroked her hair, her face, and whispered something into her soul, an act so reminiscent of those in my own Past. I grew Hungry, careless. I paused, no longer hidden by Shadow. I wanted to know this One, to Aid this One. He looked up, looked over at me, and smiled. Hesitantly, I returned His smile. She moved away, her toil done. The Man wished to speak to me, on her behalf. He Gifted me with another Task, Lightening my own dusk as well, pulling me along towards the Light, still Grey around the edges, but no longer able to travel at will about in the Dark. Just like her.
This Queene, she is my charge. She has blessed me and I have blessed her. We have accepted the tasks before us. I am glad we shall be meeting them head on, hand in hand, together.