The Lady Who Knows Everything
An old tale tells of a lady who wanders Earth.
The lady who knows everything.
A beautiful lady who has found every answer.
And all that was ever sought.
And here I am,
Lost adrift the sky, victim of the currents of the wind.
Day after day, I search.
I search with little hope, knowing legends don’t exist.
But when all else has failed me,
When all others have turned away,
The legend is all that remains – the last dim star glimmering
in the twilit sky.
Until one day, the wind ceases to blow.
And I fall and fall, and fall even more.
Gentle as a feather.
A dry quill, expressionless.
But a hand catches me, between the thumb and forefinger.
The hand of a beautiful lady.
I look at her eyes and find no end to her gaze.
She knows what I am thinking, before I can speak, she responds in a hollow voice.
“I have found every answer, all of which amount to nothing.
There is no meaning.
There is no purpose
And we seek only the impossible.
I am not your legend.
Your legend does not exist.”
And with a breath, she blows me back afloat, and I pick up a gust of wind.