The Eighty Eighth Dream Of The Waiting Prince

This morning I told my Lord of my dream of the night before. And to him I said, “My dear Lord, last night as you slept, I dreamt. And in this dream I stood on the shore of the Fecund Sea. And in my hand I held the seeds of all the flowers that had been left upon your tomb. And I opened up my palm and let the wind scatter them across the water, across the world, away from me. And soon the seas roiled with life of such abundance it was as if the very oceans of the world themselves were being boiled away by some new sun. And I stood there still, my arm out stretched, as if pointing to some destination beyond the horizon, beyond the sea, beyond the world, beyond the known and the unknown, beyond you, beyond me. And the seeds still slipped from my fingers, as they slip still, as they slip forever. For life does not end with death. Life does not end at all, no matter what we sometimes might wish, no matter what you once commanded.”