Hermione was possessed of particular grace,and whilst her beauty was not in the classic mould, it was very striking.Her race were well renowned as philosophers and artists.You could sense the depth of their thought by their unhurried movements;somehow serenity of mind was expressed in all they did.
This was especially true of Hermione who was a dancer.Tonight was a very special night for her.When a member of her race came of age as Hermione had recently done,the great Feast of Entry would be held.The high point of this feast was called the Threshold Step.This was some work of creative inspiration by the one on the threshold of adult life,something that would express their love and intended devotion to the Great Creator.
Hermione had danced since she was small,it had always been most engaging and it was something she had loved very much.But as she made her way slowly through the meadow to the feasting place she was afraid.
She was not perturbed by the presence of her very large family,nor even by the solemnity of the moment.It was more to do with her great love for God, she felt that she could never really express this nor the wonder of the One she loved, however well she danced.But she had to do it and she had practiced every move and sequence relentlessly,now she must ensure that she didn't forget them.
The more she thought about the dance the more fretful she became,and when she thought of the One for whom she would be dancing,her Creator,her heart was overwhelmed and she forgot everything.This continued all the way to the edge of the woods where her family and friends greeted her,and by the time the feast began and the music started her mind was a complete blank as far as dancing was concerned.
There was some time before she was to dance and she began to gaze around.The lustre of the grass,the elegance of the flowers,the might of the trees,they all seemed different this evening,they spoke in some new way of the One she loved,everything was so strong and beautiful.She was nudged out of her evening daydream by a relative,it was time.
The music had changed,she had often heard it,now it was her turn.She made her way slowly to the centre,realising that she she could not perform what she had prepared.
The moon was rising,the archer of the sky,the trees lifted high their boughs,a flight of dark geese flew towards the sunset.The trees,everywhere the trees,they had always fascinated Hermione,she could never climb one,but how she envied the way they reached up to the heavens ,to God.With that thought in mind she arched her back and rose up balancing perfectly on one tiny point, she was not even aware of what she had done,but quite naturally she had performed a move so simple,so very difficult and so perfect that the gathered throng gasped.Here was the very essence of her soul expressed in reaching up to God.No one who saw it ever forgot.The doves who were providing the music at this point could hardly continue,her relatives looked on,pondering the wonder of what they saw.Hermione the humble dancer standing upright? Standing.swaying gracefully,playing sometimes with,and then against the gentle breeze,the lustre of her sleek skin like wet jet in the moonlight.
Everyone saw this remarkable feat, this reaching up to touch God.But more remarkable was the kiss of God which no one saw planted in the heart of a humble slug called Hermione.
Wilf 12/1999
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