CHAPTER H
"Milites Christi. Through Confirmation you become Soldiers of Christ." But I don’t have my sword, anymore! is what he wanted to say, but he was too busy chuckling at himself. Too busy trying to stay stuck back then: back there, with her: flowing.
Excuse me.
It’s a mistake. Oh, I’m sorry. His tongue couldn’t form those words.
Excuse me. I mean, it’s me, not you. Her eyes said that.
He felt like nothing. Totally and completely nothing. Fully nothing.
You are my all! screamed at him from her soul.
How could he fit all this into a logical world? A framework with boundaries? It seemed so fluid: in every conceivable sense - even the streets flowed, like the canvasses of the Surrealists and the iconic Dali: never before grasping what appeared as "silly": Watches flopping around like gooey gum: now, his world is like that - Is hers?
He knows that she is not Lily. Her eyes say, "Not me!" But, then, she is. All that it took was this one look: flashing between them, and they like the flash - a bolt, a stream of light which instantly is, changes them, alters them; she not pausing in the slightest to appraise the defects of his flesh and bony-structure: he, Xer, a spit of sperm who became a spit of male, never to manly stature: now, her, all that which made them go berserk, right there: he does not know her name, but, he does: Priscilla - "Priscilla Young," she says after "Excuse me" ... or somehow it went: who knows? who cares?... he was her first and her last: as it should be, as it always is: virgin unto virginity: no longer maiden virgin, now womanly virgin: truly Goddess.
March accepts her as "Lan. Actually, Lillian. But only my Mom and Dad call me that." Yet, he knows her true name: Priscilla. He doesn’t understand how. He certainly can’t get his mind to even imagine asking Why?
I am No-Name. This is what he wants to shout. I am All-Name! He is excited. He is terribly confused. He doesn’t know sleep from day-wake.
She’s as he is: only sad at what she knows they are not.
Priscilla yields to him, surrenders, submits: imagines herself being turned inside out - laughs at the banana being peeled, but so it is! Ascension! Glorious Ascension.
It was the look she got from her. This now Lily knows. The look which even Priscilla, so she is sure, didn’t know then: Must know now?
They hadn’t seen each other - How long? ... Each was simultaneously asking this question. Sharing this question as their first common bond: each knowing now the purpose for their meeting, for their rooming together: Ascension.
It had happened to them. Had it happened to many? Not a question given life, because all around them confirmed the New Reality, the New Truth.
Lily kisses March. Poor soul, is her compassionate good-bye. Yet, she knows that he lives within her. Is her. That it is he whom she will carry into The Embrace of every other man, every other male: whether in flesh or soul: whether in femininity or masculinity.
Priscilla kisses Xer. Salvation. Conveyed through the twinkle in her eye. Will he eventually Ascend? Such, she instantly knows so rightly he will not. Why? She knows not. Turns and walks on the same street, in the same city, state, country, planet ...but then not: Ascended.
Intimates: A Journey Towards Sacred Sexuality Page 24
