The Traveler

Aldebar came to me in a dream, or if not a dream, then a close relative; that space where you are no longer awake, but not yet asleep. I was listening to Bach at the time—the second movement of his Trio Sonata No. 2 in C minor, as a matter of fact—and as I heard, suspended mid awake/mid sleep, Karl Richter conjure this incredible music up from his organ I knew I had heard this music before.

Not as in yesterday, or yester-year, but yester-life.

It was on a much larger planet, and a giant sun rising: Aldebar. We were not long for capture, they were already on the shore, those grey and silent ones who, in the end, had found us, and now had arrived to carry out orders.

Now entering our fortress. There was no point in fighting, it would only slightly delay the inevitable, we had left the gates open for them.

Then we left with them, prisoners now. Execution certain and not far in the future.

Such is my memory of Aldebar.

The Words:

Once we left
our fortress
captors gray
and silent
sentence swift
and violent

Then I saw
her sparkle
faint a trace
her calling
lost to darkness

Oceans lap
and honor
our abandoned
home shore
gray and silent
ever more

Down this
darkened aeon
I have traveled
wide and far
for the light
of Aldebar

for words to
form a portal
for song to
guide the searcher
for dream to
find and nurture

Ulf Wolf
Winter 1998/Summer 2015
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