I am a mystic.

Mystics live for these profound little things. I don't believe in them, but I get them anyway. So I try really hard to believe, but I'm a skeptic - and even though I know they're right, I... argh.

Then there's having faith that there is an answer without knowing what the answer is. I can't have that sort of faith, that test of mental and spiritual devotion, because I /know/. But, having no concrete reason for knowing and an overscientific background, I worry about that knowing, and why it's there.

So, I had this vision....

A face through firelight
Light and shadow patterning like flaming moths
Her robes like the skies
Pale with dawn
Rich with robin's-egg summer
Rippling with thundergrey
Black as night
Rich with bloody sunset
Her eyes deep as ininity
Clear as a stream
Rich as a miser's countingroom
Inscrutable as a napping kitten
Unreadable as Sanskrit
Her voice dark as carverns
Rumbling as the ocean breaking
Quiet as a dragonfly
Loving as a father's embrace
Casting herbs into the flame
So I cannot see her stag, her wolf
Smell only the wildness of her hair
I am wrapped in her voice
As she says:
You are a daughter of light and of dark
Of blood and fire
Of pain and joy
Your palce is the edges, the umbrae
The knifeblade
Your gift is in knowing
Your weakness is faith.
For you, he is suited - another of shadows
Silences, solitudes,
Passion and life
This is the power - to faith without knowledge
This is your riddle
And this is my sign.
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