Again, the hot sun shines down on my face. The equinox come and gone. Finally summer. It's been hot enough though that you'd think it was august already. I head back into my apartment. My apartment. Not our apartment. For three months now i've not had to put up with roommates, but have had the burden of bills and rent all to myself. Life has its ups and its downs.

Crossing through the living room, i enter my bedroom. The ceiling fan offers some relief from the heat. It doesn't really bother me though. Not like it used to.

Sitting on my mattress, i lean down onto a pillow and go through my mail. Bills, bills, garbage. Typical. A large mailing envelope. I rip it open, and take out a slim book. Poetry. A gift from a friend. How considerate. A true, rare smile forms on my face as i leaf through the book. I'll have to thank him ASAP.

I lie back, for some amount of time. The phone rings at one point, but i don't get it. The machines picks up, someone leaves a message. Eventually, the light coming in the window dims. I look around. My stomach growls. I lean forward and rise from my bed. Dinner time.

The day just sort of blurs into the next. They seem to do that a lot lately. Lately? More like a year. It takes tremedous effort to maintain some kind of schedule, some kind of grip on ... this. I look around my apartment from the kitchen nook. My bookcases, my stereo, my computer, my bench, near the balcony. How foreign it can all seem at times.

I don't read anymore. At least, not like i used to. Music becomes something to zone to, not to enjoy. The computer gets turned one once a week at most. A little writing, a little email, and that's it. The politics of online social groups is so... trying, and trite. What use do i have for angst ridden children who can't see past their own noses to what is really important?

The only ones i need to stay in contact with, i can touch in other ways. Unfortunatly, that is rarely in person. So many around me, but none that i would meet with. Elitist? Perhaps. What can they offer me? What could i teach them? What would they learn? I am not interested in hanging out. I could care less about such distractions.

It seems like an age since i have gotten small. It's been a good six months. I frown. Raven is active lately. But it's so hard to bring him out at times.

Ah well. Soon. After what seems like an age, but really was only 3 months, i've gotten back in touch with Doris. Lovely woman. Her totem is White Tail Deer. Fascinating. Her tradition stems from native tribal beliefs. She has agreed to a rendezvous. She knows about Raven, i know about Deer. It's quite nice to have someone to talk about the whole thing with. She even didn't flinch when i talked about shifting. She even offered to participate one day. I look at the clock on the microwave, in fact, in just under 2 hours.

I suppress a laugh of joy. We both do.

Doris is going to get a handfull. But, she's been around the block. She says she's been a part of several sweats with the Lakota. Can't go through something like that and not be unchanged. At least, i don't think you could. Not if you're serious about the path you walk. She's so refreshing, someone untainted by the horrors of the internet, someone unaffected and untouched by the angst and politics, or driven by pop culture and sex.

She's older too, which is nice. Two grown daughters. Divorced. She knows where she has come from, and where she is going. No distractions about sex either, thankfully. She's old enough to be my mother. Heh.

I muse on this irony as i rustle through my the various and sundry objects of my craft, so to speak. Some of these have not breathed air in a very long time. My crow feather fan, it's tattered feathers all bound to a long piece of horn as a handle with along piece of deerskin lace. I lay it on my bed. Next from my sea-chest, i pull out my horse-hair wisk. I'd call it a whip, but it's really not. Just a collection of horse hair, clipped into shape, and bound with the afformentioned deer skin. Never know when it'll come in handy. I lay it next to the fan. I pull out my deer antler mojo stick. Running my fingers along it's smooth surface, i trace the glyphs i've engraved onto it's hard surface, the grooves stained with my own blood. Tied onto the end, through a hook i put into the stick, are several medicine bags, as well as three cartouches with my names. This, this, is my second most powerful object. With care, i lay it next to my fan, opposite the wisk. Finally, i retrieve a bundle of black silk, bound with a piece of white deerskin.

Slowly, almost reverently, i unwrap the treasure. I peel back the silk like the petals of a flower. It's the same, after all this time. At least 4 months have passed since i have spent any time with my baby. How time flies. I really should let him breath more often. With tender fingers i pick up the jawbone. How long ago did i acquire you? How long indeed. Ages it might as well be. Months, years? Does it matter? The hieroglyphs along the gumline are still vivid, fresh as the day i inked them. The teeth white, the bone gleaming, it's presence still menacing. With a whisper, i bring it forward and press my lips to it's surface. How i've missed you. I need your help.

Raven has been active lately. Now i have an opportunity to let him out, but i'm worried. Egads, i'm speaking to a jaw. I chuckle, then continue as if nothing. Anyway, Raven has been kicking lately, after so long a dry spell. You remember the last time he Spoke? He was weak, relatively so. My friend was alright with it, it was his first time as ranger, so i think Raven toned things down so as not to freak him out. You know how it is. I've only brought a few into the fold, and i hope i've made the right decisions. Now it's Doris' turn. My dreams offer nothing. Mirror work tells me little that i don't already know. I see possibilities, but vague ones, nothing i can pin down.

I'm not sure what i'm asking you. I feel like i'm at the crossroads yet again. So much has happened in the last 6 months. A hectic time in the real world. Raven has been jumpy, off and on. Offering little support. Now, i feel like i'm on the edge of something, yet again. I know, i feel like this every 6 months or so. My bi-annual "thing".

We'll see how it goes. I'll take you and the boys along for show. I'm not sure how'll she'll think of all you, but we'll see. All she can do is freak out. Raven needs this. I need this. We need this.

-----

The stars filled the night sky, a tapestry of white spackles against a velvet black backdrop. The milky way arched across like a white rainbow. The sky is dark, the moon a mere sliver, almost new. Little to obscure the lovely view, the lights of the city a distant memory, miles away. The only light is a lantern, and a couple of flashlights. We stumble through loose underbrush down into a shallow depression. The trees arch high above us, but are not tightly packed. There is still a bit of scrub. We can hear the small stream trickle along, smell it's cool water in the dry air. We come within sight of the stream, it's ripples reflecting the stars and our lights. I'm already getting tired. I'm not used to this hiking shit. But, she keeps on going, i guess she knows where the hell she's headed. Doris has made a beeline ever since we left her car by the side of the road.

Finally, she stops. I nearly walk into her, she halts so quickly, and i'm following so closely. I keep my cursing to myself. She scans the area slowly with her flashlight, then sets down the lantern.

"We're here. This is the spot i used last."

She spread out the blanket she carried under her arm. Then places the lantern in the middle of it.

I look around suspiciously. I don't see how she can tell in the darkness, no matter how good the starlight, or her lantern.

"This place is rather... out of the way. How did you find it?"

"I like to hike around. This place really isn't too far from my house, twenty minutes tops. I've come out here a few times in the past three years. Never had a problem."

She sits down on the blanket and crosses her legs, with her hands on her knees. I give in, and kneel on the opposite side of the lantern, placing my bag down beside me.

"This is a good night. Not too hot for once, nice breeze. The equinox was horrible. Sticky."

She nods her agreement.

"True. I'm glad we didn't come out that night. I had a dream this morning. I think it was relevant to our being here tonight."

I look into her eyes. She is dead serious now. No more time for play or beating around the bush.

"Tell me about the dream."

The light of the lantern seems to flicker, despite it's electric nature. Shadows play across the field of view as she begins to recount her vision.

"My dream began with me in this very clearing, sitting on this blanket, with the stars above me, as they are now, but you were not here. I knew you could approach soon, and prepared myself.

A Deer came out of the woods, kneeled before me, where you sit now, and told me, "Where you are about to go, i cannot help you. The words you will hear, i cannot explain for you. The things you may see, i cannot hide from you. Remember who you will see, and you will be safe. Their Power is only as great as you allow it. Remember that and They cannot harm you." Then Deer rose, and went back into the trees.

I sat for some more time, waiting for you to arrive, but Weasel came out of the underbrush, and stood where you sit now. With a high voice he said, "You go to your destiny this night. Keep your wits about you, and your eyes sharp. When they approach, do not be afraid. They speak in half-truths and riddles, this is their strength and their weakness." Then Weasel ran off into the underbrush.

I sat still again, for a long time. I worried that you may not arrive. Then i heard a commotion, and Bison appeared out of the woods. He did not kneel, but stood, where you are now. He looked down on me with sad eyes. "When the darkness comes, there will be only your spirit to provide light. When the offer comes, your only hope will be your love. When the anger comes, your will shall be a shield. When the darkness leaves, remember the man is but a man." Then Bison turned, a tear in his eye, and went back into the dark woods. I was troubled by his words, more than the others. He seemed so sad. But i waited, you would be coming soon.

After a time, the lantern began to flicker. You approached out of the woods, but with you came a coldness, a darkness. The stars went dark, the lantern dimmed to nothing. All i could see, was myself, and you, where you now sit before me. You sat for a time, and i was afraid, but i said nothing. It was as if my voice were taken from me. After a time, a Raven landed on your shoulder. You were frozen, unmoving.

It spoke with your voice, "We have come to speak. Will you hear us?"

I could only nod.

"We will make a journey soon, and we may require your assistance. Will you give it?"

I stayed still, remember the words of my Guides. I made no move.

"Our power is great, our reach is far, but we are weak, we are small."

The cold grew, and the darkness spread. I could not see you now, but only Raven.

His voice grew strange, whispering, no longer yours. "We can teach you many things, many tricks, if you will learn them. We can teach you to go to the between places, if you have the strength. We can help you speak to the ancestors, if you have a voice."

But i knew the price i would pay, from the sad look in Bison's eye, if i followed Raven. I remembered my daughters, and my love for them, so i said nothing.

Then Raven faded into the darkness, and i heard a voice, whispering directly into my ear, a horrible voice, "We offer Power, we offer knowledge. You deny, you resist. We grow, we move. Soon we shall be. Yes."

I began to cry, thinking i would die in that moment. But i knew i would die with honor, doing what i knew was right. I closed my eyes, preparing myself, but nothing happened. So i opened them, and you were gone, the stars had returned, the trees reaching up, the lantern bright."

I looked at her, astonished. She recited that, as though in trance. She looked at me the whole time, but i might as well not have been there.

After a moment, she blinked.

I raised an eyebrow, "Er, that was... intense. I'm not sure what to say about that, to tell the truth."

She looked down at the blanket, and with a light voice, "Neither am i. I was very scared this morning. I've never had so vivid a dream. I almost cancelled our meeting tonight."

I nod. "I think now, i would have understood if you had."

"Are you sure you want to go on with this? I'll understand if you'd rather not..."

She shook her head, and looked me right in the eye. "My heart is strong. I can face whatever i see tonight."

I chuckle. "Well, i doubt it will be quite that bad. Raven is a lot of hot air most of the time. He is pretty harmless."

I hoped that sounded convincing enough.

She grinned, and leaned back onto her palms, still crosslegged. "Well, no time like the present. The sooner we get into this, the less time we act as mosquito bait."

I laugh. "Too true."

I pull my paraphenalia out of my bag. As well as the feather wand and mojo stick, i place another medicine bag to my left. Hesitantly i pull out the jaw, wrapped safely in it's silk, and place it to my right. Next to it, i put my bag of runes. I lay the bag behind me, then lean forward, taking off my shirt, and my glasses. I look around, letting my eyes focus on the blur. No distractions this way. I lean down onto my palms, still kneeling. One last time, i look up at Doris, my friend, and ask, "Are you ready?" No more ominous words were ever spoken.

She says, "Yes." But i detect a note of hesitation.

I look down at the blanket between my palms.

How can i explain it, except to say, my consciousness becomes unhinged from it's moorings. I find that place, that fingerhold in my head, and concentrate, as hard as i can. Just enough to make the internal chatter die down, only for a second. A second is all i need. Just enough time to grab hold and push. After that, nothing matters. My belly gets this warm, curdling feeling. My eyes unfocus, more than even having no glasses means. I close my eyes, and feel, rather than see, the dark pool spread from that spot. It envelopes me. No, not quite right. I fall into it. Both perhaps. Words fail here. I feel my hands curl into tight claws that dig into the blanket. My arms tense, each muscle pulled taut, as if being tensed for the first and last time. I feel like i'm falling backward, into a warm pool. I can't really feel my hands anymore, my arms, my face. It's like they're inside out, or upside down. Everything is all wrong. My breathing becomes ragged, prolonged, tense. I feel the muscles in my gut twitch. My legs tighten, flex. My back stretches and pops, each vertebrae straining in it's place. My neck pops back, and i take in what seems like the breath of someone newly born, it burns, it awakens. Our eyes open, glaring out at the dark world. We exist again. We can still see of course, but we are but a passenger now, a part of the whole. It is time for us to be big, while the other is small.

The woman is here. We are unused to her presence, but we welcome it. We look out at our surroundings, at the light, at the sky, at the things by our side.

We look into the woman, see her power. She is old. Her power is old, and many.

She speaks, "Raven?"

We pause, breathe, then answer, "Yes."

She pales. We grin.

"You are the Deer."

She nods, "Yes, i am. Deer is my guide, as are weasel, and bison."

We grin, "Yes..."

"Er, how are you? How do you feel?"

We look around again, at the trees. We have not seen the sky in much time.

"Hmm. I'm not sure what to say to you."

We bring out gaze back to the woman. "Good."

"Look, if you have something to say, say it!"

Her frustration flares her power. We see it spark, jump. We smile. She is strong. This place is strong. She has chosen well.

"We... are still small, weak. We are unused to this place. Much time has passed."

"I don't understand. In my dream you were this horrible... demon-thing. You don't even answer my questions! Who are you? What do you want?"

We look down, then back at the woman. Our head tilts to one side. We begin to sway.

"Look, this isn't going as i'd thought. I want you to bring James back. This is going nowhere. Darkness indeed."

We draw back. We exhale slowly. "Yes," we say. "Darkness indeed."

We chuckle. We remember the darkness. We know what it is. It is from the Distant Time. We close our eyes, let our breathing slow. The woman speaks, but her words are irrelevant. We seek, we find, we draw out more of ourselves. Darkness indeed. She is small.

Fragments. Burning. A spark. A scream.

I open my eyes. I look around. I can breathe. My hands won't move, they're curled up like claws, against my chest. I'm on my side, on the blanket. Something, i'll assume a stick, or wand, is under me, poking me. I make a feeble, slow rise to a sitting position. The lantern is out. I shuffle around and find my glasses, putting them on. I reach behind me, and pick up the flashlight, where i dropped it. Clicking it on, i see Doris, still kneeling across from me, tears streaming down her face, her eyes shut to the world, her hands clenched fists, held against her breast. I take a moment and look around, the night is very very still. Too still. My crow feather fan is broken, each feather torn in half. My other items are all fine though. I look at the lantern. It's as though the lightbulb were shattered, and the glass surrounding it cracked as a result. Doris has opened her eyes now, a look of pure, horror?... hate?... stabbing outward at me. Her eyes mellow, a notch, after a moment.

I can only stare around me in amazement.

"What the hell happened?"

She doesn't speak, but closes her eyes again, and starts to sob uncontrollably. I move over to her, to try and comfort her, but she snaps open her eyes, sees me moving closer, and makes this, all i can describe it as, is a wail... and awkwardly stands and runs into the woods, back towards the car. I hear her sobbing the whole way. I assume she doesn't run into trouble, cause the noise stays relatively constant, merely fading.

I take a moment to let my body adjust to being me again. Getting small like that takes a lot out of me. This time wasn't so bad though. Odd, as i remember almost nil. Usually i suffer worst in those cases afterward.

I fold up the blanket, pack all my stuff up. I leave the lantern. Slowly i make my way back to the road. I listen to hear if Doris has fallen, or gotten away from the path. I can't believe she ran off like that. She should know better. When i make it out to the road, her car is gone. Great. Just fucking great. She bailed on me. What in the HELL is going on around here? We're really starting to get pissed off. Waitaminute. We? Uh, a little bleed there. *I* am starting to get pissed. Much better.

With a sign, we begin the hike down to highway 79. This shit is for the birds. Hmm. Reverse that. Or something. How undignified. Yes.

-----

I'm walking through the hallway of my old high school. I'm not headed for class, but walk into some new room. A number of people sit around. I try to speak with them, but they ignore me. A woman walks up and stares at me. She is not a student, nor a teacher. She silently walks out of the room. I've seen her before, but i don't remember where. I follow her out of the class, or was it a living room?

I'm walking along a wide street. It's dangerous, there is no sidewalk, so i have to keep on the road. I see a group of trees off to the side, away from the residential area. I try to make my way to them, but cannot leave the road. I'm quite frustrated. A man walks up to me, but i cannot see his face. It is blurred, always changing, hidden. He is not a man, but a jaguar, and he runs into the forest. I look at him as he disappears. I try to run after him, but i am rooted in place. My feet sink into the mud. My clothes are like lead. It starts to rain. I try to jump up, out of the mud. I am able to jump, and land about 10 feet away.

The waves crash next to me. I yell out to the sea with joy. I begin to run, each step making me leap further and further, higher and higher. I'm not flying, but jumping great distances. I land on a water tower. I look down at the scene below me. Galveston spreads below me. I can see my old university in the distance. I jump up and start leaping over the tops of buildings towards it. At some point, i stop landing, and start gliding. My feet are acting as skiis almost, riding on air, instead of water. My arms, my body posture, acts to control my flight.

The trees rush past me as i glide through them. I've been here before, in this forest, a very long time ago. I look up, as i dodge oncoming trees. The sun shines bright through the canopy. I fly up, into the treetops. I land on a branch, and grab hold, to watch the sun begin it's descent. Such a view.

I hear a voice. Startled, i look around. I had thought i was alone. A man sits on a branch not too far away. A raven is perched on his shoulder.

"I was wondering when you'd show up," he says.

I look at him, perplexed, "I know you, don't i?"

He nods, "After a fashion, yes."

I nod as well. "Why are you here?" i ask.

He looks around a moment, as if listening for something. He looks at the raven, then back at me. "I'm here to give you a message."

I realize who he is. He looks so different now, so... sane, so... alive. "You were the man at the restaurant, and the grave. I have your, er..." I look away, almost ashamed to face the man whose jaw i now held as a talisman.

He chuckles at my discomfort. "Yeah. That would be me. Listen, i don't have much time here. I have a warning, and a piece of advice, so listen up."

I don't really listen, "So are you a ghost? Is this some kind of vision?"

He laughs. "Who and what i am is really irrelevant. This is your dream. Lets just say this is you giving yourself a little talking to. You, Raven, me, remember... all Raven is Raven."

I nod, trying to look understanding, hoping i succeed.

"You've come a long way in a short time, but you have a long way to go. You've experienced both ends of the pendulum, now it's time to find the center. From there you will find a new path." He seems as though reciting a poem from memory.

I look at him, waiting for him to continue. I ask, "Uh, so where is this warning?"

He says, "That was the warning."

I look at him like he's a idiot. "And the advice?"

He grins, "Ditto."

I roll my eyes. When i look back at him, he is gone. Only the raven remains, staring at me. After some time, it caws, and flies off. The sun has just touched the edge of the horizon.

My eyes open. I'm awake. The Dream. I roll over and look at the clock. It's early. I sit up, my back aching. My calves still sore from the long walk last night. I had to call from the Pac-n-save to get someone to come get me. I'm not really sure what time i actually got home last night, this morning. My head is pounding. I get up and take some tylenol. Walking into the living room, i sit down at the computer, and fire it up. After the dreadfully long wait for it to boot up, i record the dream. My dreamlog goes back several years now. So many dreams, so little interpretation. Last nights was vivid.

Coffee is the next order of business. That taken care off, i empty out my bag, cleaning up after my rude entrance last night. I lament for a moment, my ruined fan. I toss it into the garbage. A low curse follows it. My mojo stick is still good though, as is everything else. When i pull out the jaw though, something is wrong. It feels... broken. In a panic, i unwrap it's cover, and see it has been broken in 3 places. I mutter under my breath, and close my eyes a moment. I open them, hoping this is all another dream. But no, it is still broken. I don't remember it being like that when i loaded it back into my bag last night. I know i didn't crush it this morning when i put the bag down. When could this have happened?!

I sit back. The dream still fresh in my memory. The man to whom this jaw belonged spoke with me. Then, he left, the last thing binding him to this world now broken. I look down on the parts of what used to be my prized possession. How empty it seems now. I wrap the fragments up again, carefully as ever. Their disposal will be an honorable one. We will show respect.

I lie down on my mattress for some time. I think about the previous night. I think about my dream, and the words spoken to me. I can still feel Raven close to the surface. The bleed is strong. It's like i have taken some step, but i'm not sure of it's nature. I take a moment and check the locks so to speak. It's all too easy. I could let him out right now and not think twice about it.

I have always been unsure about where i am going. Raven never explains himself. Sometimes i don't know where ideas come from. Are they mine, his? Does it matter? I don't even know *what* Raven is. I call him Raven only as a convenience. I see Raven in my dreams. I listen to Raven in my visions. The others react to him like he's some kind of maniac. He causes such unease in those around me. If he's just a bird, what's up with that? I think the thing that makes Raven so disturbing is his humor. Jokes mean nothing to them. Existance seems to be a big joke to the Raven. What is his motivation? What does he want? He comes on the scene like a shadow. A black, cold mist that envelopes, chokes, like smoke from a fire of nothingness. Just as quickly, he recedes, his shadow a memory, a fluttering in your minds eye. But now, he's not leaving. He's staying around. I can hear him, feel him. Something happened. I'm afraid.

-----

The door rattles. I blink. Someone is knocking. I look around. I'm seated, leaning on my knees with my elbows. I sit up. Someone knocks again. I look around again. The clock says it's 12:30. Shit. How long have i sat here? Who the hell is at the door?

I get up and walk to the door, opening it without thinking. My mother is there. Shit, i say again, in my head. Or out loud? I'm not sure. She doesn't seem out of sorts, so i think it was mentally. Is it Sunday already? When did i sit down? My mom makes some comment about lunch and why am i not ready? I look down, and see i'm wearing a towel. My hair is dry though. When did i take a shower? I let her in, then go get dressed.

She drives, we go to some restaurant or another. I go through the motions of enjoying my meal. We chatter about something. I nod, grin, occasionally throw in a comment or two. We pay, then leave. She needs to pick up something at a department store. We walk up and down the isles. She finds what she needs. I pretend to browse. Eventually, we wind up back at my apartment. She leaves. I just stare at the closed door for a while. At some point i sit down again, resting my elbows on my knees.

Later, i look up again. My stomach is growling at me. It's dark out. I go into the kitchen. What the hell is going on? I make the effort to hold a mental conversation with myself. I am losing my boundaries. I don't even know who i am anymore. Did i even know? I look around questioningly. I live here. This is mine. I look at my hands. These are mine. I do not recognize them anymore. I rub my face. This is mine. I see through these eyes. My world is limited through my senses. I am just a man. I am me. I look at my hands again. Who am i?

I eat. Some time later i sleep. I don't remember dreaming when i awaken. I sit in front of the computer a while. It says it's Tuesday. Didn't i just go to lunch with my mom? I should be disturbed. People don't fall apart like this and not get worried. I feel so small. The walls seem like figments of dreams. I'm standing out on my balcony. The sky seems so far away. I pull a hand away from the railing, tracing my fingers along the lines. This is my hand. A figment. A fragment. I'm not real anymore. Am i? I blink. I don't know anymore. Am i dead? I am in the kitchen. I pull out a knife and cut my palm. I bleed. I feel pain. My face stays a mask though. I should wince. I'm not dead though. The dead cannot bleed, feel pain. Can they?

I look down at my palm. It's almost healed. For a moment i think it is some trick, some magic. No, hardly the case. The t.v is on, it's sunday. I distinctly remember cutting myself of a monday. Or was it a wednesday? Time seems so fluid, so... irrelevant. I find myself dressed and going out the door. I'm going to the park, yes. I remember now. When did i decide on this? It seems like a good choice. I'm glad someone thought of it. I trust some kind of autopilot will ensure i wind up there in one piece. I think i chuckle. Out loud.

My old log is there. So long ago i sat in this spot. I remember it well. We remember it fondly. I think this was where we decided to pursue a necromantic bent. How amusing. The trees are tired. There has been so little rain. I can feel thier pain, their longing. I sit. Only now does time seem to flow at a rate i can comprehend. I look around as though with new eyes. I feel my power flow. The grass, even yellow, sparkles, sways. It spreads in a pattern of life that covers the ground in all directions. The trees jump out of this sea of sparkles like giant greathing behemoths. They groan and gasp, trying to draw the very moisture from the air. Their branches reach out, touching the power in the air, directing it, playing with it. The movement of light is a dance, wonderful to behold.

My arms begin to chill, the hackles raise on the back of my neck. I glance around, the power rises from the very ground now. The earth heaves as if awakening. My hands grow numb, but the move before my face, a face. I see, but my hands are not there. I feel, but not that which is around me. For the first time i am a part of the power that exists in all things. The Father of the park knows i am here. He feels me, but he leaves me be. The ancient one has his own problems to deal with. I let the power of the air flow into me with every breath, my body, my spirit, our spirit grows happy, rejuvinated, strong. To my left i see something rise from the ground, like large white, opaque bubbles. They ripple and squeel quietly as they slowly float up into the streams of power in the sky. I feel they are lonely, ancient, bored. The trees to our left praise the birth of newborn chicks in their midst.

I feel my body begin to rise. I've felt this before, so i am not disturbed. It usually slightly when Raven gets big. A feeling of inversion, or some such. But the feeling continues, and at some point i am at the level of the tree tops. I close my arms to my chest, and bring my knees up, lowering my head. When i look up, i am at the base of a mountain. I try to use my power to see into things, but i cannot. It is like it has been taken from me. I look out, and see i am in a narrow gorge, which opens up to a small valley. I know this place. I used to camp here when i was young. I proceed to climb up the steep gorge, to the top of the low mountain top, where i know is a flat area where you can look down on the whole area. Lovely view. My climb is a difficult one. But soon i reach the top, and seat myself, looking down the cliff face, onto the canyon. I sit for a long time. But nothing happens. I look around, waiting for what may come. I reflect upon the events of the last 4 years which have brought me here to this place. Four years. Has so much time passed? A fragment compared to others who also walk this path. Entire lifetimes may pass without reaching this far. But i do not let my ego control me. I have much further to go. My path will never end, i know this. The process is what is important.

I look down at my hands, then back up again. Who am i trying to convince? Myself? Raven? God? A breeze fills the air. Refreshing after so long without. I close my eyes a moment. As i do, i hear a voice, whisper in my ear. "This place is your past, there is nothing there for you." It repeats this over and over. I hear a second voice, a womans, "You much join with yourself, become the closed circle." This too repeats over and over, but does not compete with the first. After a time, i hear a third voice, a halting whisper, low and menacing. "We walk in the land of man, and the place which is no place. So too must you travel both." I sat until much time had passed. Their voices repeating over and over, joining, separating, like threads in a rope, weaving, fraying, over and over.

I open my eyes. I am back in the park. I see with my human eyes. I blink. I'm not sure how much time has passed. I don't wear a watch. I get up slowly, and make my way to the parking lot, and then back to my apartment. The drive is a slow one. My van easing it's way through light evening traffic. Inside my living room, i sit, stare at the walls. I lean down, resting my elbows on my knees again. I spin around in my chair, facing my bathroom, and the mirror i know is inside.

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Have i come full circle? No. I am the open circle, i have only now found the beginning, and may begin my search for the end, myself. A search for myself. How... amusing. But, it is appropriate. I have only begun to uncover answers, which in turn reveal only more questions. My path is set.

I park under a broad tree, it's shade covering the dash from the not yet scorching sun. My walk this time is a short one. It is still early, few people are around. I breathe in deeply. Freshly cut grass is unlike anything else. After a light morning rain, it covers the area in a scent of man's influence. I hate freshly cut grass smell. So manicured, so tended. I make my way through the field, leaving foot prints in the dew. I notice the odd person here and there in the distance, some workers, some visitors. I try to find landmarks, but it's not that easy when it's not raining. I chuckle.

After about fifteen minutes of wandering, i find the tree, and navigate to the proper plot. Crouching down, i open a small paper bag. Not very regal, or dignifying, i know, but this is what was available. So sue me. I up-end the bag, and dump out a not small amount of ash, dust and various particles onto the grass. With my other hand, i spread the mess around, tamping it down into the blades. Not like anyone will really care. Anyway, it'll make good fertilizer. I look up. The headstone is like i remember it. The grass has filled in nicely where there was once a deep hole. I look around, no sobbing family, no bouquets, no minister in sight. How long has it been? Heh, well, just over 8 months. Time simply isn't an easy concept to deal with anymore. You'd think i'd get used to it after a while. Hah.

My eyebrows knit, i cannot think of something to say. I'm sorry i cut the jaw off your face, but it seemed like a good idea at the time? I snicker. No, i'm not sorry. I won't lie to you, not now. There can be no lies between us. All Raven is Raven. I have returned that which is you, to you. There, how was that? Let the slate be clean between us.

I put my hands on the damp grass, drying quickly as the sun rises higher into the sky. I don't care about bone remnants. I still crouch, but lean forward, letting my head drop, neck relaxed. I don't let Raven out of the chute, not here, not now. But i give him a taste. It's so easy now. In fact, i like it. Each day, it becomes harder not to let it flow. I feel like such a crackhead. I grin despite myself. I've remembered, yes, remembered, a part of myself, and that part wants it's share. I might as well try to not exist without my arm, or my leg, as try to exist without Raven. I am Raven. The line blurs even further.

A tingle flows up my belly, to my chest. It spreads, tracking down my back, to my loins, my legs, to my feet, grounding itself in the earth. My hands grip the soft blades of grass, as though if i lost my hold, i'd fall off the earth itself. I feel a shudder, but i stop. I have to stop. My teeth grit, my arms tense. Slowly, slowly, yes. Feel it flow. Guide it, move it. Let it become you.

I raise my head, open my eyes. They are my eyes, not ours. Mine. Singularity is a necessity. There must be a synergy for harmony to be achieved. The headstone is so cold. It sparks with memory for the one buried beneath. The letters, the numbers are irrelevant. The marker knows for whome it serves. It does not lament it's task. The grass ripples in the sun drenched day. It does not care if it is cut. Be it mechanical obscenities, or grazing hoofed ones, the result is the same. The blades merge, sway into a fixed pattern. Watching the field is like watching a lake in a soft wind, the waves crossing, flowing, sparkling in the sun. There is an underlying darkness though. It is faint, almost hidden. A black cloud to counter the light of day. It is sorrow, regret, passion. It is the result of countless families, loved ones, friends, all leaving an emotional stain on this place. The dead are quiet. They are the lucky ones.

I look down. I feel no emotion for his death. Why did you die that day? Did you see what i can see? Did you know what i know? Did you know more? Did you turn away from the path? What could you have seen that forced you down this road?

I ponder a moment.

All things are part of the purpose. His life, his death, my life, all are part of the whole. Even if we are opposed. It happened, so it was meant to be. Rather fatalistic. I grin a moment. I try to see into the ground, through the dirt, the wood, into his coffin. Of course, i fail. The grass sparkles with curiosity at my attention.

Am i following the right path? Were you found lacking by Raven? The papers said you commited suicide while in prison. What would bring a man of your nature to such a state? That you followed Raven, i do not question. That one who is Raven would rather commit suicide than go on? It boggles the mind. Perhaps the changes in the world as you moved down the road were too much. Changes in the world, changes in yourself. Perhaps Raven chose poorly. Perhaps he knew full well.

Voices interrupt my reverie.

Without losing my mental grip, i swivel my head and look off to my right, using my sight to watch the flow of sparkles in the air, rising to greet the blue sky. A small family stands in front of a small marker some distance away. A father, mother, and a small child, bearing gifts for the dead. The child places flowers over the site. I smile. He learns respect at an early age. We are pleased.

No, i am pleased. They mutter something or other. I cannot really understand them. Sounds just sort of blur together, too loud, or too quiet. I look down at my hands to make sure they are still there. I kneel down, taking the weight off my arms, and lean back, letting them rest on my knees. I still have not let it fall apart. Looking back, the mother's aura sparks with sorrow, a black corona or rage and fear surrounds her. the father is dead emotionally. I pity him the most. The child is, well, a child. The sparks and ripples of his energy show great potential. Or do all children have such vibrant power?

I let my power flow, i exhale slowly, deeply. Let them hear me. I close my eyes a moment, pushing, urging. I open them again, to see the boy looking at me. I smirk. He heard. How... interesting. He quickly hides behind his fathers legs. The kid can't be more than 3 or 4. We chuckle. Slowly i, we, rise. I rise. I smoothly brush off the knees of my pants. Movement requires great attention i find. Though i'm sure things would get real easy if i let him out completely. I think not. I exist totally within the moment. The area where i knelt shines with the memory of my body. My hands have left their mark upon his grave, a bright beacon to one who can see such. The ground shifts around me, like a waterbed that has been slapped, slow, methodical, but with great contained force.

Walking back to the car will bring me close to the family. As i approach, the little boy looks out at me, fear and wonder in his eyes, fear and wonder in the energy, the charge that surrounds him. He looks up at his mother, and points at me.

"He can tell us why, mommy!"

The adults both quickly turn and face me. Their fast attention almost makes me loose my grip on my Power. It was like a shock of emotion. Like walking into a super cool room from a hot humid area. The father instantly shines with anger, rage, protection, all aimed at me.

"Do you know him?" He askes his son. I can hear and feel the venom in his voice.

The boy ignores his father, his eyes boring into my being. It is not a hostile sensation, one of wonder, like a child seeing a rainbow for the first time, or being let run loose in a toystore, and finding the wonder of wonders, in a glass case, just out of reach. Staring, almost disbelieving, hypnotized by the wonder.

The father steps forward, "Who the Hell are you? How do you know my son, God damn it!?"

His wife puts a hand on his arm, attempting to restrain him. Emotions are boiling over. A violent ripple courses through the air, red, nasty, painful to experience. Mixed with the oozing sorrow, it is almost too much. I consider letting go, just pushing it back, so i can percieve the world without all the distractions.

"Frank, please... let the man speak. He's obviously upset himself. Look at his eyes. He was visiting a grave right over there, like us."

Her voice is meek, tired. A voice that has seen more pain than it is used to. But then, who gets used to pain? Better to be naive than jaded?

I look the father in the eyes, see into his being, his soul. I let my power flow through him, let him look into mine. He pauses. He knows, even if he does not remember. He can feel my power, even if he refuses to acknowledge it. I smile, and let my gaze release him. He turns to his wife, a tired stare replacing the bitter mask.

"It's ok, honey." He pats her small hand still on his arm, and takes it in his. She smiles. They both look back at the lonely marker, with the small bouquet of flowers tenderly placed over it.

The boy, a quizzical flair to his voice, asks, "Can you talk to her, like you talk to me?"

The mother looks down, "Talks to you? Honey, what are you talking about?"

The boy bubbles over with excitement, "He called to me, from over there!" He points to the grave of my former... associate. "But he didn't use any words!" His excitement sparked, small will-o-wisps cascading off him, only to be carried away by the ripples ebbing around the trio.

The mother looks at me, her brows knitted. "What is he talking about? How can you talk without words? Are you a psychic, like they have on T.V.?"

I almost have to laugh, but to do so would probably mean my loosing my grip. I settle for a grin, and answer, "No."

She and her husband both look at each other, then back to me. "What question is that an answer to? The first, the last? That makes no sense."

I look down a minute, then let my eyes rise, "Yes."

The frustration runs off her like a pot boiling over. She sighs, then asks, "Can you speak to my daughter?"

I consider a moment, letting my head pull back, looking up at the cloudless sky, the sun on it's journey through a river of power. I answer, "Yes."

We all wait. Moments pass. She is decidedly impatient. "Well?!" She is on the verge of tears.

I cock my head to one side. "Yes?"

"I asked if you would speak to my daughter!" Now it is her husbands turn to place a restraining hand on her arm.

I smile, "No, you asked if i could, not if i would. There is a difference."

The color drains from her aura. I'm sure it drains from her face as well. The panic in her voice is sharp as a knife. "Please, you must! I can pay you! You HAVE to do this! I must know if my baby is alright!"

I sigh. "Know this, i have to do nothing. Your money means nothing. I am not a machine to be turned on and used at will when it is convenient, then cast aside. Your need means nothing to me. The dead have their own agendas."

A tear runs down her face. My impulse is to simple walk away. I am trying not to be insulted. But i see the face of the child. His need for this is great. He was close to his... sister? I look back at the mother.

"I will do this thing. You will have what you think you want."

She blubbers something, but i am not listening anymore. I glide forward, through them, parting them like a rock parts the surface of the pond. Movement is like pulling myself through the aura, the air, the energy that surrounds me. Instead of muscles, it feels like i call out, and am led, even if i know it is muscles, bones, tendons. It is quite bizarre. I'm sure my chuckle at this tidbit is lost on the family behind me.

I run my hands over the shallow marker bearing the child's name. So young. The taint of sorrow burdens this place. Such love, such loss. Perhaps in time this small plot will know happiness again. Graveyards are a Bad Thing, i decide. The last abode of the dead, those who have gone to walk with the ancestors, but burdened with the neurosis and hangups of those they leave behind. It should be a place of joy, of celebration, instead it is a place of tears. I regain my composure. It is so easy to become... distracted. I kneel down, my freshly brushed knees becoming dirty again. My hands flat on the earth, i lower my head, closing my eyes. I cannot do this alone. I feel deep within me, it does not take long, He has been on the edge the whole time, pushing, urging, crying to be let free. I find the lock, and with shaking mental fingers, i quickly, hesitantly, open it.

The breath comes easily, i almost do not feel it. We were so close, so close. My body does not tense, which is good. We are primed, primal, ready for this task. We use our power, digging... finding... query. We feel the child. We feel the distance. Such folly to ask the dead. That which is here is but an faint echo, a wind in the quiet places, brushing against your face. We feel the echo of what was once the girl-child. We drink it in, revel in it. So young. So vibrant.

We stand. Those who stand before us, they know what i have done. The boy-child feels fear, too young to know proper respect. We smile at the woman, we have what she has asked for. We bear the echo of her lost one. We lean close, her fear keeping her steady. We whisper into her ear, that which she thinks she wants to hear. Such knowledge is so rarely what we expect.

The female drops to her knees, the male soon following, making noises of consolation and comfort. He queries her. The boy-child is frozen with fear. We will accept fear when respect is lacking. We give the child a smile, perhaps one day he will be strong.

We proceed to our vehicle. We need the machine. Movement is difficult. We must stop.

We know this is not the way. It is time to go.

Like a wave crashing down, my eyes refocus. Color sharpens, smells recede, everything had a boundary. It's over. I look back at the family, a faint feeling of disbelief tears through me. I look at my hands, feel my face with my hands, rub my eyes until they begin to hurt. I open them, looking back again one last time. I run to my van.

Sitting in the driver seat, i put my head down onto the rim of the steering wheel. I can barely contain the nausea that fills me. My whole body is a stabbing ache, every joint, every muscle. I can feel fire burning in my lungs, my breath a rasping wheeze. I just know my fingernails are a nice shade of blue right now. I gasp for air, at the same time trying to keep the contents of my stomach where they belong. I ignore the line of drool slowly descending towards my feet.

I take my head off the steering wheel, no doubt a deep impression on my forehead. It seems like a dream, a dream i remember all too well. A dream that actually happened. That poor woman. Does everyone who meets with the Raven come away so brutalized? Is this all some kind of joke? I guess, in a way it is. How could she know what she was asking? He told her she would get what she "thought" she wanted. The Raven gave her that. She asked for some kind of message? She got one. But what can the dead say? What can an echo provide? They are but remnants of what once was. Whispers, pale shadows, nothing more.

"Mommy, is my bike ok? I'm sorry Mommy, i can't... get... up. Mommy, i feel so cold. I... love you... Mommy."

He spoke to her with the girls voice, he gave her the childs last words, showed her the childs last image, as she lay dying, in her mothers arms, in a hospital emergency room. She had been hit by a car.

It seems like a distant dream. But i know it was real, all too real. My feeling of closure with my... peer, nothing. A moot point now. I look up, fire up the engine, and drive home. I feel nothing.

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