The Dragon of Rebirth

My brother I believe you, I must be born again. I am starting to glimpse the depth of birthing pains in absence of a shared communication, and comprehending that this process will be more thorough than I would have ever thought. So in boundless space and endless time and countless dimensions possible, how do two simple vectors hope to intersect? Everything cries out for a love story, though now I contemplate the form this dragon will take. Am I there? Is it in my midst already? How many steps must be taken from here to the moment when we meet eye to eye, and each realize that, despite every good faith preparation, we are underprepared, yet still overjoyed? As we rush back to the blacksmith to pound a tool into a different set of dimensions or refashion a weapon to better suit the mood now confirmed, this sense permeates that even a single grain of sand, certainly secured, new, more, is a treasure trove in this place, thought static evermore.

This fight has been long whispered of, and spoken of directly only days ago. Such strange pathways we walk right now, with so many dragons, now allies, involved in shaping this foe. We do not want easy, we do not want cheats, we want a dragon that will stand the test of time, an enemy whose conceiving thought is love, one who we will truly pull back the veil with, regarding what love is. On such a night nonsense returns in spades, and certain tricks resume. Change Places and Reversal now seen in new light, as I realize that I might be the dragon being crafted here. However, when Rebirth is the equation, such a position is inherently complex- both object and action inherent to the perspective. With a glance and a smirk I realize that, in a grander sense, this dragon might be any one of us, and this is a party whose invitation is worth its weight in gold, for the template that will be witnessed forming, and the opportunity to contribute to it.

"Change Places. Integrity Check." A confidence surges these words from me, to the spaces where they can be agreed to. A doe lifts her head nervously and then bolts from the thicket, sending fireflies scattering skyward like stars shooting in reverse, making the whole thing look like a dream, albeit one painted in the sky. I walk on, mind quiet, understanding that such statements carry weight, even though I do not understand the measurement system in these parts. I consider, near mindlessly, the path one would need to walk to exit one reality and enter another after the same fashion, without hardly noticing the transition into after the fact. Step by step translations occur with me and all around, just short of the threshold of detection. I walk, suspicious but unscathed, as I sense tremors in the system that necessarily underlies the reality that I call home. "Meaning must be retained, or forged, true for them as much as I. There must be a way through here..." I realize that I am a bit peckish, and consider eating before finish my thought. These same thoughts wander my feet back to the staging area, back to the encounter imminently at hand. I inhale deeply.