Running with the Horned God
by Jim Garrison

The leaves dance on the autumn wind, a swirling, skirling waltz of orange, yellow, and brown. I can smell the coming rain. I stand in the twilight. Waiting. Listening to my heart... each moment I linger in this place I can hear the drumbeat of my ancestors in my blood more clearly. A sense of calm descends upon me, the calm before the storm.

He approaches.

The trees sway in the chill breeze that whispers to me of the coming winter, and the long sleep during which the trees dream the world back into being each year. I stretch my limbs and concentrate on my breathing... each exhale curling from my lips like wisps of smoke. My skin grows warmer despite the wind, and I almost lose myself to the rhythm of my breath.

He is nearly here.

The Sun sets behind iron-gray clouds, and darkness fills the air. I wait in the shadows, looking out over a lake teased by the cold wind. My breath comes to me with the peace of a dancer, and the fire within my bones kindles into a flame that must move. Swaying in the rapidly dimming twilight, I feel the call.

He is here.

No candles light this place. No circle marks the space. No incense fills the air, nor any chant... I stand surrounded by silent trees and the whispering wind. My heart is my drum, my breath is the smoke I offer. With a shiver I feel the presence of the one I have sought. I see clearly in the gathering gloom, and the mist begins to fall, drops running off of my hair and beard. With a snort I stamp the ground and the urge to run overcomes my vigil as the familiar weight of antlers settles upon my shoulders.

We run in the twilight.

Lost to the animal pleasure of intense exertion we run through the trees, around the shores of a cold, black lake in the rain. We are as one; no thoughts do we share, only scents, sights, feelings, and sweat. Running in the dark, we both abandon the pretenses of the daylight world and embrace the truth, waiting for us all deep within our cells, our dreams, our souls. For an eternal moment, I know the awful bliss of truly being alive, and then I stumble.

We part.

Everything is quiet... there is only the patter of the rain on my back to distract me from the drum-beat within my chest. As if waking from a dream, perhaps another reality, I slowly become aware of my body, my surroundings, and the rain upon my face. Steam rises from my bare flesh. I get up from the moss and mud, and I feel the familiar weight of flesh and blood. The wind steals my heat from me and I stand, looking out over a black lake that shines with moonlight coming from a break in the clouds.

He still runs.

We've run full circle and I'm back where I started, only everything is different now. I've changed. I can hear His throaty laughter in the night, and something deep within me stirs with a deep longing to go running in the twilight once more.

Found on silverpheonix's website.