The Baptist's Prelude

Another one sent forth
Renewed. Reborn.
She rises from the river
and her eyes glimmer
with the joy of one who has been set free.
And with a last embrace, I send her forth
to the one that is to be.

They come to the river
Weary. Weeping.
Shoulders raw from burdens heavy.
All I have to offer are words.
Echoes. Recollections of the scars on my own heart,
Stories of the love song, of the love song...
of the love song being written with every passing day,
Every waking moment, in every shadow, every meadow,
Every inch of the potter's field, burning bright.
Etched deep into every ransom, silver.
...I know what to say; every word comes naturally:
The language of healing, the language of the soul.

When nightfall came, when darkness neared
We sat together, in silence
The river's rhythm, our only song.
I raised her eyes upward
to the fireworks frozen in the sky
The wings of Cygnus, the magpie bridge.
Redemption. Renewal. Relentless love.

I watch her as she leaves,
as she runs into the arms of an eternal joy.
I collect my sandals at the shore,
a tattered patchwork of laces
that have carried me through many miles, many more.
I hear a melody in the distance,
from a voice that has found its true love.
And as I walk upstream, through these sun-warmed waters
I have called home,
I say goodbye
And I sing along.