The Rukesayer
Enters through the Eastern Door
He makes the proper bows and gestures
And you know
You just know
he means every act of contrition and reverence
Her friend nuzzles her ear and says
“You realize he created these gestures
Don’t you?”
The Goddess In Training is strangely surprised
I guess she thought such gesticulation
Had existed since the Time before time
The Rukesayer
Presents himself in a gesture of open arms
And freezes
Her friend nudges her
“He’s waiting for you to acknowledge him”
She says
“But this is the Rukesayer . . .”
“And you are the Goddess . . .
Get him up before he starts to rust.”
The Goddess In Training
In a totally unprecedented gesture
Comes to the older man and kisses his cheek
The resulting smile on the face on his face
Has been the subject of more than a few mythic songs
He says
“Dear one
You honor me far above my station.”
She laughs and there comes a radiance into the room
It is the Light that has diminished in these recent
years
The Light reborn
She gestures and fine pillows are brought
An excellent tea is prepared
And the curtains are pulled back
To reveal the vista and to allow the wind dragons
The run of the room
“Dear one
Your father has commissioned me
To impart any portion of my meager wisdom
That you might wish . . .”
The Goddess In Training
Lifts a pomegranate and peals out a fruit
Her perfect brow furrows
Her voice is a dark sweetness
She says
“I want to know how to heal
the pain
the suffering
the madness
the loneliness
the sadness
the dis-ease
the war
the famine
the poverty
of spirit”
Rukesayer literally grimaces
as only old men can grimace
He scans the silver platter
selects an orange
And takes his sweet time pealing it
He is thinking
You can almost hear the gears
“Dear one
You must realize that the easiest questions
Are the hardest to answer.”
He sections the meat of the fruit
And smells it before biting it
“Dear one
Why not ask how to move the clouds around
Or how to lift the sea to look for treasure . . .”
She leans back
He sighs
“Dear one
You can end all suffering and sadness
All woe and beguilement
Its painfully simple . . .”
He finishes the orange
and hands the peal to her friend
He stands and brushes his grey robes with flourish
The Goddess In Training
Hears a thunderous rumble and can’t make it out
Her friend looks questioningly at her
They then realize that Rukesayer is dong it
He is rumbling in his chess and he does this
Wonderfully swish-wishful dance
Feathered creatures
fly in though the open windows
And add their melodious voices to his
He is swirling his robes so close to the floor
He is facing her now with a black cloth
not unlike a hand towel
On both his hands
And he is twisting . . .
He is twisting the darkness
And slowly in the middle she can see
A tiny world growing in his palms
“Dear one
You must know that I am your father’s Artificer
I have forged the time shear swords of the
Tal-Erethereal
The Impervious Armor of Belathra and his mate Shethra
And a few other projects worthy of note
But you will notice that this is no counterfeit
This is in fact
A world . . .”
She jumps up and looks at it
It is perfect in every detail
A perfect little world
Turning above the darkness of the cloth
She claps her hands
And he laughs a deep satisfaction
“Now Dear one
Enforce your wish on this little world
Make this a world free of
the pain
the suffering
the madness
the loneliness
the sadness
the dis-ease
the war
the famine
the poverty
of spirit.”
And she does
And everything is perfect
For about a microsecond
Then everything dies
“Rukesayer
Put them back . . . please.”
“Yes Dear one . . .”
And he does
And she does
And the whole planet dies
Again
“Rukesayer
You are doing this
It not nice . . .”
“Dear one
I have turned this world over to you
And you have enforced your will upon it
I can make it again
But the result will always be the same.”
“That’s not fair
Do it again
This time I’ll be more clever.”
“As you wish Dear one”
And he does
And she does something a little different
And the world convolutes
Twisting back and consuming itself like a virus
It twists and turns turbid and then every thing dies
Horribly
She says
“Put it away
This entertains me no longer.”
“Dear one this is Art
It is not for your entertainment
But for your edification.
You want to create worlds where there is no suffering
But you also want worlds where there is Life.
You want a top without a bottom
A Yin without a Yang
You want a wave that is a crest with no trough
You want a day without a night . . .”
She pouts
And it is in fact a thing of great beauty
Her friend retrieves a cluster of the most perfect
grapes
The Rukesayer sequesters the cloth in such a way
As it appears to have disappeared . . .
At length She says
“I just want them to be happy . . .”
“Dear one
Nothing is more noble
As you are noble
But you must realize there can be no happiness
Without sadness
No pleasure without pain . . .”
She says
“Are you telling me
the pain
the suffering
the madness
the loneliness
the sadness
the dis-ease
the war
the famine
the poverty
of spirit
Are sacred?”
He says
“Yes
Dear one.”
She says
“I don’t like that.”
He says
“No one says you have to like it . . .
Let’s try this.”
And just like that he produces a bicycle
Now you must understand they have never seen a bicycle
So of course he must demonstrate
Which he does
Badly
With some time and effort
(Because she is the absolute picture of Grace)
The Goddess In Training is riding around the room
With great ease
He stops her and says
“Now ride with one hand.”
And she falls over sideways
“The other hand . . .”
She falls again
Her friend confronts the Rukesayer
But backs down when the old man demonstrates why
He is respected by even the Gods
She stands up
“Dear one
This hand is Yin
This hand is Yang
Now I will admit that with enough effort
You might master the art of one hand riding
But you must admit
It is as though the Universe
Wants you to used both hands.”
She looks at the bike
“Dear one
It is in the balance
That the Worlds grow and progress
Your father is no fool in this matter.”
She looks directly into his sea green eyes
“I don’t like it.”
“You don’t have to
But you must accept that it exists.”
“I just want them to be happy.”
“Then help them over come
Help them to learn
They will endure Sadness
And they will know Joy
It is the only way.”
“You may be wrong old man.”
“Yes Dear one
And I may be right.”
“I’ll figure out a way . . .”
“And I will help you
But you must learn the rules
Before you can break them . . .”
“Will you help me old one.”
“Dear one
There is nothing else in the Worlds I want more . . .”