In Turn Sacred

A writer's moment, after midnight and several episodes of Babylon 5.

The cold dark of winter has come. Stark white glows beneath the starless sky, covering the earth like a gray ghost. I walk between the ancient trees caught in icy slumber. I envy them their ability to turn inward, away from the cold. I find a space cleared of bark and brush, a circle of white untouched by the surrounding forest. I walk to its center and suddenly notice that my feet make no sound. I look back. No footprints.

“This is a sacred place. All those who venture here are in turn sacred. All others simply never find it.” The voice surrounded me, as if the air itself spoke.

“What is this place?”

“Not what nor where nor when. Only why.”

“Who are you?”

“I am as you are. Why do you need to know more than that?”

“I seek understanding.”

“Fact and truth are not mutually exclusive. Which do you seek?”

“Neither and both.”

“Then you are ready.”