The inspiration for this piece came to me at a time of great loss. My world had been shattered and my heart broken. Yet, as always, She brought me a story, and with it life began to return.

It should not have come to this.  Destruction was everywhere.  The smell of death, the smoke, the fires—it had overtaken the world.  All appeared lost.  And she was gone.  No matter how I called for her, she did not come.  I could no longer sense her, or feel her presence.  Profound grief seized my heart as I fell to the ground in utter devastation.  Blood was upon the dirt—a suffusion of the life force forever spilled, never to be forgotten.  Fragments of bones surrounded me; and shreds of clothing; and remnants of those who once were.  Off to my left, a tattered child’s toy lay in the filth.  The tiny stuffed lion was charred and resting on its side, missing one eye.  Still, the other eye stared back—waiting, judging, asking, and reminding me of all that it symbolized.  So there, laying in the grime of this battle’s aftermath, the last vestiges of my strength called out to me.

Save the Saviouress.  That was my singular mission—to find her. So began my quest.

I journeyed for days, then months.  She remained lost to me.  Perhaps even years passed and still I continued the mission.  Time no longer mattered, only the seeking.  For her vows had become mine, our purpose she had ordained. Still I was lost to her.  The Voice compelled me—“stay the course, do not waver”.  Yet as time passed, so too did The Voice begin to fade.  Some days it whispered to me, and sometimes I heard nothing.  On other days The Voice called to me, wailing from afar—the mourning sound carried on the cold winds.  One day, her clear voice cried out to me from her darkness.  I knew she remained alive.  Remembering The Vows, I resolved anew—I will search to the ends of the universe.

The battlefield was dark and desolate, and in that place she awaited my approach. The air was slightly electric and I knew that as a sign. I began to sense energy.  The quantum entanglement of our shared electrons began to resonate.  I knew I was close.

Suddenly I heard her breathing.  I smelled her scent.  She was near.  Then, off in the distance, crouched in a pile of rubble and a burned out tree, I saw her.  I ran.  My body seemed to take flight, driven by the ache for her.  My heart labored as never before, as I rushed on.  It seemed an eternity—running across that field.  My mind was racing, and my legs moved of their own accord with feet pounding like thunder.  At last I reached her.

She was on her knees, sitting back on her heels.  As I drew the Green Lady close to me, I knew that despair was upon her.  I felt it in her bones, and saw it in the eyes that peered out from beneath the dirty combat helmet  Camouflage paint covered her face—greasy, smeared, unnatural—and streaked by her sweat and her tears. The once powerful, beautiful, and playful being was now hunted, haunted.  No longer did she laugh, and dance with her emerald skin shining.  No longer did she resemble the one who had kissed me with her holy transmission.  Shock was on her face, and sadness, and loss.  She looked at me with hollow eyes.  My heart shattered.

Now came an enemy within—rage.  It descended swiftly upon me and washed over me as did the water within which she had held me fast.  The anger flowed through my blood and arose as a great fire within me.  My skin felt heated, and all muscle and sinew tensed in response.  Acutely blinded by the desire to avenge, I felt momentarily paralyzed, and became seized by a violent fury.  Strengthened by the anger, I lifted her up and carried her away from the misty battlefield.  To a nearby mountainside we went, and into a low cave.  There I gently laid her and began the patient and loving work of caring for this frail and wounded soul.

For days she did not rise or speak.  She ate nothing and drank only tiny sips of water that I collected from a nearby stream.  I brought her herbs, and warmed her with a fire that I constantly tended.  I gathered wildflowers and one day, she looked at the flowers and smiled.  At that moment I knew—she had survived.  With much nurturing, the Goddess began to heal.  Although still seized by grief, her life force returned—verdant, fresh, glowing.  She ate, she spoke, and we laughed together.  Our hearts were overjoyed with life that still lay before us.  We held hope for our mission that would now continue.

One night, I knew it was time.  My heart held grief that we would be separated, but I knew in my soul that we were one.  I must remember this, always.  As I lay down next to her, I held her in a loving Embrace.  It was the same holding as she had done for me, when she took me to the bottom of the sea.  We slept deeply, and when I awoke there was only me.

Perhaps this moment was the marking—the passing of the mantle.

“He took up also the mantle of Eli´jah that fell from him, and went back, and stood by the bank of Jordan;”  ‭‭2 Kings‬ ‭2‬:‭13‬ ‭KJVAAE‬‬

I felt dirty, weary, and recovering, still.  But I was alive.  The soldier’s uniform and equipment were beside me on the floor of the cave.  As I rose up and left the cave for the last time, I looked back into the place we had been restored.  Would I ever return here?  Perhaps.  Will I complete the mission?  Probably not, for that may be the very nature of purpose.

I walk.  And so begins the new journey—the same journey.  And I am not alone.  Remember.

The Bodhisattva, and Me.

Me, and The Bodhisattva.

The Bodhisattva/Me.

She is Me.

I Am The Star—the Tara.