The images remain vivid and warm in my mind. I’ve stopped briefly in my work and thought about the vision which is now blurred and softened. I find myself lost in thought at the most odd times during the day. There are notes I want to make and reminders to jot down. I’ve written down most of what occurred, described it as best I can, yet ...

The words familiar in away carried a sadness and a longing broken by long sighing phrases and by catched sobs and seemed to speak of the saddest things in life, want and fear, death and love, early death and painful partings. I knew what the words were, although I didn’t understand fully - the words were part of the rhythm of life itself - even now their sad and lonely tune remains with me.

I’ve tried to make sense of the things I’ve seen - the cup given to me which I held warmly in my hands not knowing nor understanding, confused. Staring into its depths, seeing nothing, understanding little of the words by which I was surrounded. The sip, a warm salty taste. I felt a burning warmth, rising, pulsing within my body and my body filled with heat. Held for a moment it flowed strongly within. A mingling - the blood ran out of me, dripped from me, to puddle beneath my feet and then to seep outwards, inching endlessly across the land. I was no less frightened, yet it my fear I was filled with a great love - the love cast out my fear. I stood watching the scene before me, yet I knew I was not dying. I felt a presence beside me but I could not see nor do I know who it was. It was not threatening. Yet in some way I felt that whoever stood beside me, also had the slow, strong sweep of blood in his veins and that in some way the blood flows in all our veins and has flowed there all our lives.

It doesn’t make sense. What did I see. Nothing just the cup - a dark (stone?) goblet - which I cupped in my hands. The land beneath my feet was dry, not dusty- just an expanse - the voices spoke in a language that I did not understand yet I seemingly understood their rhythm and meaning.