Kamila

 Kamila

His place is beside the beach.

Stark. Cold. Windswept.

Salt in the air.

Early morning light catching on the mist.

The cottage close.

Warm glowing.

The bridge beckons.

It is covered by bush, with an archway through to the other side.

He steps into the in-between.

On neither side.

The darkness is scary.

There is some light above if he looks up.

He holds the tree swaying on one side. And then the brush like scrubby branches on the other.

He kzows this place from when he was young.

A place he would try to escape.

There is a chill on the bridge.

He looks down and senses the water flowing below.

Ever flowing.

He lets go and walks to the other side.

She is there.

Glowing in all her beauty.

Dark, strong, with wise wide golden brown eyes and long curly hair.

She smiles and reaches out for him to follow.

He is excited and in awe of her

I am Kamila.

Ask me what you want of how to find this mystery in your life.

He pauses and then asks how he can find it in the every day.

In the light.

She tells him to dream of mystery and to embrace the dark.

To know she will be there with him.

To trust in the dark as much as the light.

He breathes in and looks up.

He closes his eyes and breathes in the sky, and then out to sky.

She tells him to respect her as a guide, and reminds him she is only that … a guide.

Not the destination.

She asks for him to feel free to visit as often as he wants.

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