PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Midnight, mid-Winter, the staging area was set, an upward-facing slope with an unobstructed view of the sky. The group, clear & focused, approached the edge and seated themselves with precision. Arranged in tight rows all facing forward, they formed a half mandala out there on the precipice. Huddled against the cold they prepared, eyes wide open, mouths slightly ajar, all breathing in unison. They raised their palms, hands cupped, at shoulder level, each touching the hand of the next to form a continuous circuit. When the alignment began their collective energy would become a sort of tuning fork, allowing them to take in as much information as possible. When the transmission was complete, each would retreat wordlessly to their cell to decipher, using their own personal oracle & divining skills, the information as they received it. As each revelation came forward it was examined by all gathered. Reference was noted as to the most commonly indicated messages which were then recorded in descending order. The process took as long as it took until the book was closed on the event. 

"The shepherd's boy is here." The child stood outside the door with his most trusted goat. He took the wrapped package from the old monk and stored it in the saddlepack of the shaggy horned beast. The monk placed his hand on the boy's head saying a blessing and handed him a red cloth bundle containing enough gold coins to feed his family for many many years.