Touch of the Soul

Listening. No sound except the other sounds I usually ignored, now amplified. Birds, frogs and crickets in the distance emanating from the palpable night.

My eyes were growing heavy. Nearly closed, then opened again as I felt myself slipping into nocturnal unconsciousness. Subtle energy pulsating through me from the top of my head to the tips of my toes.

A smile slowly forming that no one would see. I felt my lips tighten and a strange levity filled my chest. The touch of night was upon me and the words she said once again filled me with the assurance that I was known, I was acknowledged and that I had become harmonized with everything and everyone all at once.

Alone? Never. Solitary? Hardly.

As black night blanketed me, in my stillness, in the presence of that moment, I was both in motion and as still as the grave. A spiritual motion that transcended the physical. I ascended through a haze of stars as my body was lifted toward the hand that reached down. The touch of my soul, detached, nearing me now. I am it, it is me.

The gentle touch of the soul.


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