The old ram trotted past the weird couple walking ahead. An old man and his adolescent son, fear and angst reeking of the uprights, making their way up the old mountain path. The ram didn’t worry, he was to old. And certainly to old to care. He new it was his time, but each time he went of to quietly slip away the flux emanated the sentiment of wait a while there was more beauty to be experienced.
Still working his way slowly down the path, his old bones creaking and his magnificent horns weighing heavy on his head. The presence of the one drew closer he could feel it as a thickening of reality. He raised his heart and let out a sigh. Drifting of the flux came a suggestion to turn around, to rally to the aid of the one, to finally rest. The old ram smiled, if only in his heart. Yes he would go, he would brave the mountain a last time and willingly walk into the eternal on the invitation of the one.
It took time to get back up, but before long he could sense the two humans up there, fear sorrow and desperation wafting through the air. The one was drawing near, not that the presence was ever gone, just more tangible at times. Distracted by the presence he got his horns all tangled up in a thorny bush.
She spoke now, the voice of a thousand angels, who’s words could only be sensed but not heard, and the old ram could sense in the two uprights sorrow traded for joy, fear traded for adoration, and desperation traded for excitement. With gentle hands they bound his feet and laid his old body on the altar. She smiled at him as he was greeted into the eternal arms, eternal life and strength flowed into him as his earthly vessel faded with the ebb of his blood.
It was the start of a new adventure.
