The Cliffs of Respite

I journeyed to the Cliffs of Respite. To see the sun rise.

Along the way, I met a dancer. She wore petals in her hair and bells on her ankles. She called me to dance as I passed by. I was never a dancer. My steps were labored and flawed. But that day I accepted, and we danced under golden leaves of oak. We danced away the day and well through the night. On the morn, she asked who I was, the one who danced so poorly and so wonderfully.

"Only a traveler," I said. "One who journeys to the Cliffs of Respite to see the sun rise."

She looked upon me with gentle eyes. "Stay a while longer and dance. I can teach you the finest steps and sways. The cliffs are a lonely place and will be there always."

I smiled, grateful for her kindness. "My feet ache and my shoulders are leaden. I wish to see the sun rise."

I left the dancer behind. She returned to her languid steps beneath the gilded leaves. Her new dance, a melancholic farewell.

I met a soldier, his back broad and his arms powerful. He called out as I passed by, a challenge to a duel. I was never a fighter. My limbs were frail and my bones soft. But that day I accepted. I awoke the next day and the warrior thumped my shoulder with a proud smile. He asked who I was, one so feeble and small, but strong of heart.

"Only a traveler," I said. "One who journeys to the Cliffs of Respite. To see the sun rise."

He looked upon me with confusion in his eyes. "Perhaps I misjudged you." He said with furrowed brow.

I smiled, grateful for his disconcertion. "Perhaps you have."

I left the warrior behind, his back turned to me. He kept his meaning of those final words. I kept mine.

I met three scholars arguing with aplomb. They questioned and answered and questioned again with laughter and bright eyes. They called as I passed, to join the melding of minds. I was never a sage. My mind a mire, my curiosity suffocated. But that day I accepted and joined the confluence of wit. Through the day we listened and spoke and listened some more. As night fell, the scholars asked who I was; one who asked so little and answered even less but listened as the keenest pupil.

"Only a traveler," I said. "One who journeys to the Cliffs of Respite. To see the sun rise."

They looked upon me with revulsion in their eyes. "What answers could you find in such a place?" They asked. "Do you have no questions for the myriad wonders of this world?"

I smiled, grateful for their scorn. "My questions are asked and my soul tires from the weight of answers found wanting. I wish to see the sun rise."

I left the scholars behind. Their laughter subdued; their bright eyes dimmed.

I met an oracle close to my destination. She did not call out, though I went nonetheless. She held my hand neither reading nor seeing. I asked her nothing, nor she me. As I pulled away and stood to leave, she offered words untainted.

"Your past and your future are stories read and written by your present," she said. "For better or worse, the pen is ever yours to use or not."

I smiled, grateful for her understanding and left her behind.

I stand upon the Cliffs of Respite. To see the sun rise.

The halo greets me as an old friend. The warmth of cloud split rays calls to me, a promise of love returned. I never was a flier. I've no feathers to glide upon the gentle breeze nor mighty wings to bear me aloft. But this day, I accept.

I step from the Cliffs of Respite.

Into the beautiful sunrise.