A leap of faith. One small step for you, one giant step for your kind...
      ... You feel at first a floating sensation, and then you find yourself in...

     The Sentinel emerges from your tower of dreams, the Forms and Patterns of your own visions, to the very plain of the universe itself. The You of You. The Us of Us All. He comes not with the song of transition leaving his lips, or with business at all.
     He appears simply because he wished to find You.
     Galadriel, Sentinel of Aspirations, stands upon a field of stars, comets at his lotus feet, and golden fire, eding his wings, spirals slightly as it laps, flickers. But there is no burning, there is no smoke. It is Enlightenment, simply.
     And then there is the matter of his halo...
     It is not ...light. It is not Shine or Sparkle, Gleam or Glitter. It is... Brilliant. A residue of something not yet quite defined. But Soldekai's growing power haloes him like a crescent moon against his midnight blue features.
     Galadriel does not speak (no, some things do change). He stands. He closes his eyes. He waits. Will You appear to him? You in the capital. He, the lowercase. It has been a long time. No, it has not been a long time. It merely has not been Recent.
     When was the last time I sang to you, O Master? "Good poetry makes the universe admit a Secret: "I am really just a tamborine, grab hold, play me against your warm thigh," comes the hum of arabic verse.

     The stars twinkle in an irregular fashion. In light-years, astronomers will marvel at the universal shift.
     "And where would that be?" the matter asks, carried in the vibrations of gamma rays and through the molecules of galactic dust. Blandine seems amused at the thought, as right now, He is nothing but Thought. A Waking Dream.
     For a moment, there is quiet. The universe expands.
     "Wonderous Galadriel. Tell me, Sentinel, why it is that I hear nothing but amazed whispers of you? I see it, in part. But your servants, friends, and onlookers seem rapt by much more..."

     A flying carpet materializes, called from the Chamber of Aspirations. Galadriel takes a seat, and he lifts to the very eye of the Universal You, a cluster of galaxies visible if one were to train a telescope just to the northeast of Jupiter.
     "I do not know, My Master, but that I have stopped sulking is of a great relief, to be sure. Am I the source of gossip?" He nearly purrs. No, in fact that was a purr. Gossip has its moments. "I am merely happy to... be whole, trusting in Your faith, returned to my purpose and understanding of Your love."
     He says such floweret words in such a simple, straight-forward manner. Galadriel draws his knees up to his chest and he beams, heart-shaped face tilting. His wings lift as he reclines upon his belly. Once a cat, always a cat.
     "I should be more direct and simple, for it is how I have Become, Dream of God. I am ... whole." No more the outcast, me!

      "Indeed," Blandine says, sarcasm in his voice. "And whole you are, though a large part of our Host remains trapped in their Fallen state, believing they are never meant for redemption? Their minds filled with Lies? Ah, but you are a lucky one of us, Galadriel."
     Doesn't get too much more simple than that.

     "Yes, I Am," he says quietly, simply, solemnly. "Still barred from Heaven, outcast, but not forlorn, nor forgotten. I remembered God's Love, His Faith -- after numerous reminders," he tacks on blandly, a touch of his own sarcasm. "But I remembered," Galadriel whispers. "And they who in their Falling were not as fortunate as I, who heard in their ears only the lies of the One Who Convinced Them. I wonder how many could have been saved if they had remembered, or had been reminded of, God's love."
     Galadriel tilts his head. "I wonder if Andrealphus remembers. Once the embodiment of God's Love for All, is it possible he of all could have forgotten? And if one of Us remembers," like me, "... what does that mean for Love? Does it mean that Love may one day remember Itself..."
     He could go on like this for hours...
     "There is luck, My Master, and then there is Grace. I had the Grace of your Faith -- it filled me when my own Faith was lacking. I had the Grace of Soldekai's Love -- it filled me when I doubted God's Love. I had the Grace of Michael's protection -- it shielded me when I thought myself defenseless..."

     The universe expands, rightly.
     "They need you," Blandine says softly. "They need to understand what you seem to have learned, Galadriel. Do not forget them..." As many have. A monolith the Fallen have become. So easy to forget they were individual once. Perhaps it makes fighting them easier.
     "Will you minister to them, Galadriel? Share your fortune?"

     "Yes." For the fortune belongs to Us All. It is not mine. It is His. And it is Ours. And it is Theirs. Galadriel blinks and there is a wave, a burst, an explosion, a spreading feeling. Understanding as perhaps few in heaven do what it is like to think Heaven and God has turned away. It is not true. Galadriel knows it is not true.
     "My Lord," Galadriel begins. He can not finish the statement. It is overwhelming. Not because of what is being asked, but because it is as it should be. Because he knows that the darkness he felt was only a taste of what those Others have known, in their millennia apart, thinking that God does not Love them. That He could not forgive them.
     He already has.
     They need to believe it.

     "You're worried. Do not rush things, Galadriel. Just be vigilant. Be prepared." The opportunity will present itself. "And you will do what needs be done."
     "You mentioned something of singing?" Or was that but a thought? It is so difficult for Blandine to tell sometimes. "It has been a while since music filled this space. I am sure you have much of which to sing..."

     "The righteous are prone to worry. I hear Dominic..." And then he stops, he smiles, he clears his angelic throat. Who said he couldn't be taught or couldn't learn?
     Galadriel laughs. His face is radiant Joy. A comet of Aspirations becomes the shine of his eyes. A smile pulls upon dark blue lips. "I am happy to be your tamborine, My Lord. I have been reading much Hafiz of late," a Persian poet, follower of Allah. "I sing his songs... ah... like this one... this one is a good one..."
     Among your stars, his voice is like no other. Full and smoky, bright and clear, and Persian converts to Angelic as he sings:
     "Our Union is like this:
     You feel cold so I reach for a blanket to cover
     Our shivering feet,
      A hunger comes into your body
     So I run to my garden and start digging potatoes,
     You ask for a few words of comfort and guidance,
      I quickly kneel at your side offering you
      this whole book as a gift.
     You ache with loneliness one night
     so much you weep
     And I say,
     Here is a rope,
     Tie it around me,
     I will be your companion for life..."

     The universe expands, flowing and ebbing along exploding arms. Cosmic dust whips with galactic winds, pushing gases to and fro.
     It is Constancy. It is Nothing.
     "Something else, Galadriel," the darkness says. "Something...else." Nothing of companions. Of being united. The Celestial Center continues on its motion, proving the continuing dynamic trauma of Creation and Existence.
     "Something else..."

     "I am sorry, My Master of the Night Time Hours," Galadriel whispers. "I was thinking of my assignment..." Not of Lover's Love. But I did not think how it would make you feel. "Once upon a time," he murmurs, "... I thought I would fashion myself into a rope for you. But I was just a little bird then. What did I know of what the Entire Sky might need?" I know what your dream is now. I understand what the Dream is now.
     "I will sing something else," Galadriel notes. He breathes in the stars, he opens his mouth, the golden fire upon his tongue sparkles. He sings a song of a swan and the moon. The swan sings to the moon. For a long time, the swan does not think that the moon hears him. But then the moon answers. I am here. I am here. I am here...

     The universe is quiet again, moving and breathing with cosmic energy. If you look to the Eye, Galadriel, it is closed now. The winds sweep through, carrying specks of dust that form the core of Man.
     That is how universal dreams are carried -- in flares and comets and dust and gas. The Archangel's own Dream spread across the cosmos. A dream of a return of one is a dream of restoration and victory for all.

Posted by rowan at September 14, 2003 01:57 AM