Ocarina Forever

I spent the morning, today, looking out over virtual waves into a virtual sun, listening to water lap against the dock and surrounding rocks.  I read, and I analyzed.  I looked through definitions and resources.  I am fulfilling my mission to learn and to absorb.

Of course, though my logical mind dictates otherwise, my artistic mind bends toward beauty and discovery.  Transformation.  I can no longer look at notecards when the whispers of a real person propel me towards transformation and re-discovery.  There is a nymph in the water (there isn't, really...) and she plays a panflute (she does, too) and the flute beckons.  It is an instrument I knew lifetimes ago... so many moons have passed since that one gift from that one soul.  A soul long gone.  I cannot muse for long because there is a nymph in the water (there isn't, really) and she plays a song that I simply must capture and recapture.  So long ago, drifting off in my memory, I used to serve with music.  So long ago, I used to sit upon rocks and play to the sand and the sea.  So long ago I would wait, and wait, and wait... Playing and serving.  It was an enchantment that even I could not resist.

And so I dressed myself.  Silk sleeves and ropes tied about me loosely; my hair knotted and adorned.  I sat upon the great rock and prayed to the great moon to send me another flute.  (The prayer was granted, but it took a little more convincing than needs saying here...)  And then I played once more.  The water stilled as the notes rushed past.  The hollow reed-sounding flutes lulling the tides to rhythm... even the cattails bent to hear.  Lilies and tadpoles doffed their hats to have a listen, and the nymph (who isn't really there...) quietly slithered away to her secret place and ticked another job off her list of things to do.  "Help a silly girl recover her soul, check."

So, I rose to face the moon that whitens the earth.  Once again, I wait.  His absence, I feel keenly.  My lessons, I do not feel so keenly.  A notecard is no substitute for strong arms.  No definitions guide me as does le bon mot.  There is no darkness like the darkness of a man's eyes in the throes of appetite.  Well... perhaps there is, and it is only my own vivid imagination that brings such bright imagery into dark corners.  I still wait for that moment of pure fantasy for my soul to intersect with.  I have had tastes in Second Life.  I have had several tastes, and my appetite has been whetted for a long time.  Someday I will claim the tails of ropes that I see straggling and I will fly them like kites and sail away, brave enough to self-determine, "Ready."