Sunlight filters through
broken dust,
fleeting silence;
gentle and calming.

Your deer observing the life in the forest, or pondering about forest life.

He had always seen them somewhere just outside of his line of sight. He never acknowledged them more than he acknowledged the dilapidated structure of the Ruins or the strange stone that fed the pond with its tears. They just were. They existed. Always had, always will. Like the trees, the golden particles of dust that floated about him whenever he stilled in his walks-they just were. When did that change? The green eyed buck wasn’t sure. It was a gradual change, though, that much he understood. Something so minute and insignificant that he didn’t notice it until the change was upon him, as startling and as grand as if they suddenly sprang into existence with just the right slant of light.

Yet now as he stood before them, he found himself enthralled by their glamor. To him they emitted a soft glow of brilliant white light, only broken by small rivets and veins of gold that meandered across the weathered surface. He never knew them by name. No one he had known spoke of them, but he still felt he knew them somewhere deep down in his heart of hearts. They were the Light. They had to be. They were the sun, the great all knowing, almighty orb that floated near constantly in the skies above. They were the warmth that touched his skin; that kept the cold at bay and heated the ground for the weary to rest upon.
They were in the core of the trees, the sweet ocher that flowed through the spindly veins of their many tined crowns. The shrubs and grass shared that connection too, he knew. They all fed from the same life source, from the beings that made this shrine. Even his blood was connected, all their blood flowed gold. He had yet to see a being that didn’t.

Shaking his head, the brown buck shot a nervous glance about him, finding himself still alone. He felt exposed standing on the hill, it was part of the reason he never came to the statues. They were always surrounded by deer coming to pray to them, to settle themselves into the nook at their base or hop around in their presence. He had come for a different reason. One that he didn’t necessarily want others around to intrude upon. All he wanted was to steal a quiet moment with the deities, steal one little moment for himself in the countless hundreds upon thousands of little moments he would have in his lifetime.

“I…don’t know how much you listen to us…or or…” he cleared his throat, daintily stepping closer to where his head was about as far as away as his small tines would allow, “…really how to do this. But I just wanted to thank you…thank you for saving me all that time ago. I know you did somewhere deep down. I know you plucked my soul out of that abyss- that nothingness, that void- and brought me here…gave me this this…second chance.” He lifted his green eyes to slowly pan over the surface of the statues, taking in every form of white and gold that graced the ancient, blemished stone.

Slowly the buck brought his head closer to place his nose on the cold stone before pulling his head back. “Thank you.” One final murmur of appreciation before he retreated back into the safety of the trees.

The green eyed buck hoped that they had heard him, feeling as if somehow; maybe his voice would float up to wherever they resided. Possibly it would float on the wind, or carried by the gentle golden dust that floated in the air. Maybe it would. He’d like to think so.

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Avatar by Meadow. Siggy © Shey & Squeegie