The forest was a tangle of deep green that blocked out the sun in the riot of growth. In contrast, the meadow on its border flows away into the distance and reflects the warm yellow glow of the sun, sparkling off the seeds and pollen floating through the air like tiny solar systems turning in the wind. Butterflies, bees, and dragonflies flutter and zip between dust worlds. The sky teems with the purposeful movement of insect life, swimming in the heat, zooming through the zephyr in busy erratic rhythms.
Then far below, a dimple in the tall lea. The jerk of movement in the stalks almost invisible in the dancing grass. A hand, or just it’s shadow, waving once to disappear below. The grasses trembling violently in only that one spot, crashing downward to the earth as the dimple grows in size. A struggle, unseen, ensues in the thrashing blades. Then resolves suddenly, the motion of the grass slowing to the tempo of the breeze. For one breath. Two. More. Golden silence reigns. Breath held in expectation for the victor to emerge.
Then…There! Slowly, a head rises above the swaying gold, struggling and bobbing, shoulders arching and exertion tensed as they raise higher and higher until they flop forward out of sight, released.
From the grass a being stands, cloaked in dirt shadows. Naked and alone, birthed from somewhere below. They stand in the sunlight shading eyes that squint against the glare, and then decision made, stride shakily, stumbling towards the shelter of the forest.
And should we follow, to that depression in the ground, we peer downward to see a person sized hole, like a giant anthill ripped out of the earth, within it’s eye a cold darkness that seems to have no end. Something was born here. Something from the shadows. And alone, it has wandered from view, to find it’s place in the world.