Touching Your Idols

Trees, to Kali, had always been the most penetrating preachers. She revered the way they lived in tribes and families, in forests and groves. And even more she revered them when they stood alone. The lonely ones were like herself, at least she wanted to believe they were. Not like thieves who had stolen away out of some weakness, but like great, solitary Gods. In their highest boughs the world rustled away, their roots resting in and infinity of solitude and stability. Nothing was holier in her eyes, nothing was more exemplary than a beautiful, strong tree. Trees were sanctuaries to the few who could speak with them, who knew how to listen and learn from them. They were not the type to preach learning and silly precepts misconstrued through years of pack tales. They preached the ancient law of life and longevity.

So the trees rustled in the evenings, those long evenings where we stand uneasy before our own childish thoughts. Where we doubt ourselves and curse the Gods for the hands that were dealt to us. We stand wavering, trembling, and cold- while the tallest of the Oak loom above us. Their whispers caressing our ears, soothing our weary hearts until we have the chance to breathe. And in that breath we open our eyes and peer out at the world around us. With this knowledge Kali opened her eyes, her lungs filled with the crispest of air. The sting of winter deep in her lungs. "Oh bloody...." The Frau sighed indignatly. She had gone off and done it again, lost in her own head- no wonder she had lost her way in the search for her siblings. Always appearing in the strangest of places, sometimes almost getting her into trouble.