Aries 24. Beautiful, expressive lines flowing out of a pencil.
Coiled up in the pencil are many lines, waiting to be drawn. This does not require patience, for many of the drawings sleeping in the graphite will never be drawn, just as many seeds die, never having been planted. Anything that needs a birth will create one, anything else can sleep in the realm of potential where it may dream dreams if it so desires, or enjoy the bliss of a dreamless sleep.
Right now, though, beautiful lines are everywhere flowing onto the paper, as blood flows through the eyes that watch their birth.
Although the Shrine of Curos is located in a small and high plateau in the Iridar Mountains, a place exceedingly difficult to reach, many are the travelers who come here, travelers who have lost loved ones, by one circumstance or another. For here and no place else grows a certain magical grass,which, though it has the appearance of common grass is endowed with a special healing power.
Travelers who come here — most always in the summer when the mountain air is cool, but the snows have already melted — are wont to lay down in the grass where, due to the soporific properties of the turf, they soon fall asleep.
And in this place they always have dreams, which, though never clearly remembered, are deeply healing.
When I asked one who had traveled there what he had experienced after his return he said, ”
It is difficult to put into words. It was as if I saw what the whole universe is made of — love. A love that has the power to take on every form one could possibly imagine. A love that takes on all these various forms so that it might create a rich, luxurious diversity to love itself in countless ways. A love that loves itself in infinite and constantly mutating forms. And being a part of the universe, I realized that I, too, was of this love.”