Here the eternal spirits swim and wait for day’s beginning and star-light’s fade. Somewhere the familiar are new and the same and also very different. Watch now as we pass—swimming in deep water clear and blue and green.
We breathed the same air and often we never surface. We do not require space above the sea. Together all of us—animals and fish and forever spirits….Never cease—we are alive! We are verses of the same universes—We have the right to be everywhere…
There is a slip off the main channel of a River called Manatee…The Sentinel watches this curving slip of water between landfall and islands of reeds and grass and palms and sand. Bear cubs and Panthers kiss the sweet liquid of combinations both salt and fresh and dance along the edges of knowing their way and sea-side rhythm and of verses of silence.
The GrefShane come this way…They are not frequent folk to line these shorelines; however, they love the Sentinel and the Festival of Bridges—occurring every thirty years. And! The GrefShane watch no sweeping clocked hands or sun’s pitch or star travels across a darkened sky. They are existence and they happen when they are timed to form and to appear.
They stand beneath moon light and within the form of Draped One and their motion casts gentle designs into an easy night. Tall and short and large and small and gathered to hear the soft waves scatter across the shore and just beneath their feet—bare and warmed in the air of night.
They watch the shadows of bridge span and steel as wooden shapes pass underneath the towers of man, built when young species roamed earth-bound and the constructions of shapes and water passages filled the world—before the tearing days and summer’s song. A night bird cries and another winged one settles protected within thick tree grasses inside the shadows of the moon.
The large ones rise to surface and water gently swirls behind them. They are slow and sweet and strong inside a current they know as their reasons and their purposes inside the strength of their being strong and imagined as real.
They rise to meet the GrefShane— protectors of these moments-in-time and places-of-being simply life and nothing more or less. The River Manatee sleeps and its current survives.
And! Beautiful you are…