Two swords

Let me tell you the story of where you have been, she said. And I'll tell you about the two swords you used to get there.

Lost for two years, you saw it all. Mountain, plain, desert, valley, forest, field. You watched the landscape change, the colors go by.

We watched you then, all the while, through every color of every rainbow whose path you crossed. We watched you as you did not move. Seated, quiet, eyes covered in softness, two swords in hand. Taken up as weapons you were certain you would need. One to fight, one to protect.

That is not how you used them. I can tell you that story too.

Two swords for balance. They were your sun and moon while your eyes remained shielded against true light and dark. They were your heaven and hell while you traveled middle ground. Your fire and water, your air and earth, while those elements were out of your reach.

At the end of the your travels, you put your swords down, you freed your eyes from their protection. We watched you do that too.

Do you know what you learned? In that moment of voluntary blindness? Because two years is nothing if not a moment.

If one is essence, two is existence.