Stars Two

Imagine for a moment—you are flying over the clouds on the darkest of nights. Stars shine out above you, but the light is too weak to illuminate. Your wings are tired, and your heart is cold. Frost covers your feathers and there is ice in your pinions. You've traveled so long your wings are stiff, but you have farther to go. Somewhere in the distance there is light, but from here, you cannot see it. There are only stars, and ice in the clouds, and cold.

The clouds seem dark at first, but as you study them, you see pools of light. It’s the liquid gold you remember from your dreams, the ones returning before you sleep and you forget to remember upon waking.

There is farther to go, or you would stop. You would fall through the clouds and into the pools beneath, but you force your wings onward. You lift your wings and break the ice and turn your eyes back to the southern star. You continue on your way, but that doesn't keep you from dreaming.

Somewhere down there in the world below, there are rivers of gold and silver. Gold runs through the world, a molten testament of the makeup of the earth. It gathers in pools across the land and shines up. It’s the light of the lynx, the gold of the desert, the light of the sun. It warms the clouds beneath you, but the clouds keep in their wealth. They keep it hidden just beyond reach. So dream.

Three