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the dying

Writer's picture: t.noblet.noble


I think I died.


Released, I floated in the lake, weightless and unseen. Above me, the stars poured across the sky, streaking like molten silver, as if I were rushing through them, or they were falling all at once.


They moved so quickly that I thought they were spirits, gliding, merging, melting into one another, forming rivers of light. Somehow, I was part of it , part of them. A single thread in the infinite weave of energy, pulsing and alive.


My hand, skimming the water, wasn’t just mine, it was the lake itself. I felt the cool dampness of grass on the shore, yet I was also the beads of water slipping down the leaves of the forest. I became the deer standing motionless, watching from the edge of shadows, unblinking.


I spread outward, rippling from the island in expanding circles, dissolving into everything.


Then came the call of my name. Faint but insistent, pulling me back. I wanted to stay in this boundless stillness. The voice called again, louder this time, and like a wave crashing on rocks, I was thrust back into myself.


My eyes snapped open, and the stars were fixed in their rightful places.

I swam to shore, feeling heavy and light simultaneously. I felt changed, reborn, alive.


I walked out of the lake, branded by the universe. I carry the mark still.

It is held sacred by my soul and I wait for the time I meet the stars again.

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Trish Noble

Writer, Artist, Dreamer.

I design, write, and generally have fun

experimenting and creating things.

Even if I suck at it.

I am a Jungian enthusiast and avid dreamer.

I have four cats.  They all think I'm crazy.

© Trisha Noble - all rights reserved.

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