The Beloved and the Bride

The Warrior's tale resumes

Preface
...given as something of an ode to Obed, who begat Jesse, who begat David--but who first had an aged grandmother, one who by strange providence brought his mother to join the people of God. What lengths, O God, will you take. This is a wonder and a thing of joy.
Thank you, that when I look at that melting glacier, I think to ask: how far away is the flower that will be watered by that molecule of water I see sparkling in the sun?

And this wonder only considered as it is inspired by the likes of such wisdom poetry as is found in Job 38: 22, 28, and 29
Hast thou entered into the treasures of the snow? or hast thou seen the treasures of the hail...
Hath the rain a father? or who hath begotten the drops of dew?
Out of whose womb came the ice? and the hoary frost of heaven, who hath gendered it?

So the story continues:


Though a practiced wayfarer, his appearance still raises questions
as he has become as legendary as was the land he once sought.
But that was many years before this day.
Now it is he that is spoken of in wide-eyed whispers...
How long did this man walk in the rain?
And, where did he find the cave of miracles?

Was it on high ground, where the permafrost crackles?
Where for so many generations has the frost of heaven lain.


Was it where billow crashes upon billow, unrelenting?
Where for so many generations has the deep been strong.

Was it in that enigmatic place where restraint flaps loosely while the remnant dragons soar?
Where for so many generations emptiness has hung full of stars,
stars whose birth names only God knows.
(For was it ever really given to man to name such as these after all?)

How long did the man follow the shining line?
One foot in the water; one on the land
and the sparkle between....
And always back to this: where did he find that cave of miracles?

But find it he did, and kept its secrets.
(To his credit, if the path were so easily shared,
wouldn't we all go down it?)
Some say twas but a child that served to guide him,
leaving him only when he went crawling into the cold recesses.
You must be born again--of water and spirit,
he heard the wind hiss behind him,
outside that narrow cavern.

Born again--
one said to be first the offspring
of father rain,
and mother ice,
now predestined for new birth.
And if new birth, then certainly new life as well.
He wondered what its complexion would be.

He thought on such things
until he found that womb of ancient fore-telling;
and it was a room where alcoves glittered
in strange ethereal light
and concave rocks cradled morsels reflective,
gems of ice, clear and bright.
He ran his hands through them
like a pirate would his doubloons.

And the mother who received these wind-blown nuggets
that landed by design within her, who would birth them
into mountain streams--
she whispered to him there:

Before the depths of waters,
yea, before the fountains flashing
Before the likes of these small promises were given,
I was brought forth.
And--now that I am soon to be flesh of their flesh
in that great day of melting--
Now I ask of you:
shall I send forth my little rivers
on your behalf?

And he ran his fingers through the crystals,
knowing the answer he gave would be a far greater strain
than any he'd known finding his way here.
He looked in the place of the unseen,
and there he saw even his arm become as ice.
Patiently, she'd waited,
preserving these hidden ice-diamonds
for the day of his arrival.
Patiently, she waited still
for the moment of his answer.
All the years he'd thought to be a warrior
and all the years there after, when he'd forgotten as much...
both lives reflected up at him--
the palaces they could have haunted, could even still
these were a multitude of faces glittering in his hand.
When finally, he was ready, his face showed his suprise,
for he discovered his destiny had always been
that of a warrior after all.

He lifted his gaze from the prisms of light in his hand,
ready to give her an answer.
"Make it so," he said.