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The Blue Flower Dreaming

CHAPTER 14

Florienne was alone. The eyes of the queen were sucking her life like a black hole sucks light.
She didn't try to hide her eyes from the evil queen but she released her friends, body and language back to the garden, facing the Queen without defence or sword. Wisdom facing Isis.
Meanwhile in the garden, a vortex had formed around the blue flower, a whirlwind of fire. The great tree shook to the depths of its roots, indeed the whole garden shook. The tree embraced the pain in the yearning chasm between the garden and Florienne, and in the chasm the Knight remembered the squire within his own memory of repentance and understood. Embraced in the dying of Christ, the squire experienced peace at last as he allowed his existence, his awareness and memory to sublimate into the Knight. And the knight experienced wholeness.
With the squires gift, the Knight's heart perceived the sweet spirit of Florienne engulfed in her dark night.

The queen was staggering drunk on Florienne's life, and only with great difficulty could she maintain her penetrating vision on the girl, whose life was now beginning to ebb.
The knight knew Florienne could not sense his presence. Yet from the depths of his existence in the garden of Paradise, he knew her. Safely held in goodness and mercy, an awesome love for her overcame the shuddering at a potential total surrender of his very existence in paradise. On the edge of he knew not what, he embraced the word of love.
'Sleep.'
The childlike faith and trust of heart that despite any crisis can accept the paradox and trust the way of love beyond understanding.
The vortex was not sucking or drawing, but Florienne was near death as the knight opened his being to the word, and allowed his spirit to rest, to fall asleep in the ground of her existence.
Drifting in, he was present to her inside the vortex.
First a gentle trickle, then joy filled Florienne's heart with the overwhelming laughter. Her isolation shattered as the pure person of the knight, present to her innermost being, shone within.
Though the vortex of body and language the Knight was spoken out into the eyes of the evil Queen who shrieked in terror. The knight, his name was Ephraim, reinstated in awesome brightness and glory, on a pure white stallion thundering through the dark city's gates with sword held high.
With a shock of lightning, the dark clouds that had hung for centuries over the city blocking the sun never releasing their rain, burst open, drenching the city. The dark cells of the cities twisted streets began to break open in the flood of light and water and the knight rode on and into the heart of the city crying out for joy. Crying the words that had been written indelibly on his heart, the word of the scroll that Aelred had placed in his bag seemingly centuries before.
The words were words of loving kindness, judgement, and righteousness, words of repentance and forgiveness. Words embracing all the virtues. They matched the light and they matched the sweet flood of waters.
Deep beneath, inspired in the depths of her being, Florienne was unable to contain a new surge of holy joy, and began to sing.
All the Garden of God had committed itself into the vortex that was now surrounding both the blue flower and the great tree, and were flooding in a million holy words, sweet beautiful patterns. Gratitude and redemption.
In the city, men and women exposed and in shame without the covering of their cells were caught contorted and twisted in their souls. Faced with a reality they could not hide from. No longer the reality of the perversion of their cells or even the perversion of the city, this was a reality that filled the universe, sounding the end of the Dualism.
They called out in their nakedness of soul and their nakedness of shame, yearning for the living holy words to clothe them, embracing the words, weeping in revulsion of the darkness that had clung to them, and received the healing words at their source.
And the God of the Universe stood in full view with awesome love, his arms outstretched as if crucified, his heart wide open and the flow of his heart was the source of all goodness.
***
The sheer terror of the Queen knew no bounds. In the dark centre of what was once her city, she was shrieking commands to her cell, the cell that still imprisoned Florienne, to hold together. Its walls like the queen herself, were contorting like a bad dream, until the room finally burst open and the queen herself was torn in two.
A deformed and hideous form, and a tiny child.
Without thinking, and faster than the hateful destructive instinct of the now visibly hideous Queen, Florienne stooped to pick up the tiny child and held her to her breast, reassuring her with an awesome honesty.
"Its alright, its alright, its going to be alright."
The hideous form shrieked one last time as the earth shot them to the surface, and out into what had been the evil queen's city. There was now nothing she could recognise.
The Dreaming in its perfection of redemption, was filling the reality that had once been the city, with new life bursting forth everywhere, pushing all the darkness to the rim.
Countless naked people weeping, their shame fading, the darkness washing from their hearts, their years of vain and twisted lust for meaning washed away in awesome love. Ugly naked flesh transforming in beauty.
With the emergence and exposure of the dark Queen, those who had been resisting the light and the pounding rain, also split in two. Dark ugly phantoms shooting like lighting from this scene of devastation, leaving small children with memories cleansed to start life afresh.
The dark clouds had emptied themselves and the light and warmth of the sun was singing to the listening earth.
Florienne turned. So did the knight. Looking into eachother in openness and freedom, naked heart to naked heart. They sensed a cleansing of all distraction, a flow of patterned virtue flooding like torrents, speaking in a holy language that unlocked the holy mysteries of the Source. It brought not only a depth of loving intimacy that lovers had yearned for since the beginning when they had been created in His image. This sharing was a sharing in the coinherence and the perichoretic flow of the heart of the Trinity.
Memories that extended back through the amnesia barrier of post-Babel language acquisition were transformed, the language of the virtues carrying them right back to their most intimate being, their conception.
As they faced each other, the ancient song-lines began to open on the wings of the patterning virtues, as they spoke and received each other in the coinherence and perichoresis of God. Creation's trails of body and language in sweet word and melody. It was the song of creation. The person of the Word.
Their bodies were sacraments of their renewed and recovered full personhood, glowing and transforming within the realms of created reality, soaring along the song-lines that Adam and Eve had only begun to know in part in Eden's Dreaming, millennia ago. Soaring and diving in the sweet living waters' flow.
In one way Ephraim and Florienne travelled the songlines, in another way the songs actually ran through their heart coming to life as their hearts sang.
Spirit and word flowing freely and in awe. Melodies echoed in their heart as they glided in exquisite love, affirming reality as God saw it. Dancing to the song of God. The song of the living archetypes that ran through the mind and heart of God before creation was spoken into otherness.
They understood Song at its root. The Spirit searching the very depths of God, and searching out the places of conception Wisdom's conception sites, the patterns and the life. The Word and Spirit from the birth of time, proceeding from the creative Father Heart of God. Holy healing melody in the sweet union of word and spirit. Healing music that speaks the archetypes, reality as God sees her, sung into a wounded creation.
The knowledge of the song-lines even existed, had been lost in Babylon beneath twisted paths corrupted for want of holiness, and a surfeit of trade and greed. There were song-lines that still echoed in the running of the jungle trails of the Indians of South America. Indigenous people who had kept song and the joy that travelled with it in their heart. People who remembered what song was. There were the still powerful song-lines which the evil one had not been able to destroy in the Australian Dreaming, but had twisted the words - these were the first fruits of redemption - the song-lines redeemed in time at the rebirth of the Dark child.
And now all the song-lines of the earth were coming to life again. People young, and old becoming young, were flocking to them, to return to the place of their own song, and the place of remembering how to sing.
They shared the redeemed songs of Outback Australia, they shared the songs of the trails of the jungles of South America, They all sang together with joy as Eucalypts flourished, and wallabies and bubbling springs abounded, and frill necked lizards skipped their joyful life affirming paths. Then as these song-lines touched the crossings of other hidden trails, they began to recognise their own heritages. Trails buried in time, with knowings now freed from the confinement of the city of confusion and in right relationship with body and language, they all came to remember the songs they knew were their own.
The earth was replenished. Species that had been lost, were sung back out into existence. The songs redeemed, were transforming the earth into a paradise. The lion and the lamb together, grass giving of itself to sustain both.
And there was a prevailing awareness of the fresh, generative, creative love of the Trinity.
Reality drew deeply on its source of the Father Heart of God, recognising His presence in the Spirit and the Word. Reality recognising the presence of the Spirit and Word in the songs of creation. The myriad living ideas of creation spoken in Wisdom and birthed in an otherness that was being redeemed in the singing of her redeemed Children.
Children of the Father of Lights. Coming home.

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