I started out on my own, of course. Andrew sang me on up the Morningside road, my earbuds tucked precariously in ears too small for them. Somewhere on the top of the hill beneath the hibiscus trees with their dusty, crumbling blossoms - that's where you met me.
We talked, of course. I can't remember if I turned my music off or not. I don't think I did; it never seemed to stop, but it never seemed to contradict the sound of your voice either. We spoke of terrible canyon-fires and the holy blaze of Divine Love and the glory of God in the face of Jesus, sharing the ache and longing - the pressing, breaking joy - of waiting for Him to return. We crested the last hill and stopped, just before the road dipped down into the highway. There we stared the dying sun full in the face, our eyes able to take its fading glory and hearts longing for a glimpse of glory beyond the measure of even the sun at its brightest...
At last, we turned back, shunning the lure of the train cars winding their way through the trees across the highway. Behind us, a shadow of Glory clung to the rim of the western horizon, defiantly pouring its last drops of bloodfire onto the path before us. For just a few moments, we walked a road of living, dying gold. My hair blazed red. Then - golden glory fell to the grey of dusk, though not without the pressing promise of silver starlight.
The hibiscus trees came too soon. I left you and turned down the hill, working my way between the parked cars and patient garbage cans. Already I missed you, half our conversation forgotten and tugging at my brain, eager to be spoken again.
We went for a walk together yesterday evening. I thought you'd like to know.
Potent. Beautiful and potent.
Next time you go on a walk, do please take me with you, and let us talk about His Love and the longing for His glory and how we ache for Him. I can't promise to always remember the words. But our conversations in themselves shall never be forgotten.
^.^
I don't think I understand it, of course I don't seem to be able to understand people well these days. But it was BEAUTIFUL!
I felt the warm breeze on my face, heard the footfalls on the path, and saw all of the colors and shadow as clearly as if I'd been there. Yet another piece that the reader is sure to feel. Very, very nice piece of writing, Inky.