Beyond The Valley of Death

           As I sat quietly exhausted beneath the great tree, I heard a
    rattling from among its branches. It was the sacred serpent,
    moistening the trunk's bark, slithering around the tree's branches
    above where I sat.
        Greetings," said the serpent, "and welcome to the shade and
    shelter of the great tree." The voice was stern and strong like the
    voice of Father, yet gentle and tender like the voice of Mother.
        "What do you want of me?" I asked the serpent. Terror gripped
    me motionless. I feared both its strength and its tenderness.
        "It is you," said the serpent, "who has found yourself here with
    us. What do you want of us?"
        "Eternal Life," my voice cracked, tremored, "is my goal, yet not
    beyond this body and life of mine, but while the blood still flows
    about my flesh and bones."
     "You have a noble desire but it shall cost," said the serpent,
    "nothing short of your body and life here. You must sacrifice all if
    we are to deem you suitable. Are you able and willing to make this
    ultimate sacrifice for the ultimate reward?"
        "Am I worthy?" I asked, thinking I was, feeling I wasn't.
         "Yes," replied the serpent, "you are worthy. The call of the Way
    whispers in the wind, glistens in the tossing of waves. All hear and
    see it each day but few have the courage to step out of their
    comfortable thoughts of what truth and glory are and begin the
    painful humble journey to here. The beginning is the arrival, really.
        Of those who begin the journey, few stay with it for long. Back
    there, that valley of shadows you passed through for 7 days, that is
    the valley of the damned who could not bear the horror of
    experiencing the pain of everyone else before them who has fled
    from the valley in doubt. We call them “walkers,” for they flee back
    out of the valley before the moans of the sufferings of the living dead
    have brought them to their knees as you were for the last 6 days of
    the passage. At the moment that the walkers turn and run, the sound
    of their terror joins that of previous failures echoing endlessly in the
    valley.
        Yes, they are truly the damned for the terror never leaves them.
    They simply go back to the comfort of the illusion of what life was
    and each day as the wind whispers to them and the waves glisten
    before them, they shut their ears, close their eyes. They pretend there
    was no valley, that they had never been there, never heard of the
    place, never responded to the call. Yet deep inside, the terror is their
    master. They flee from the terror into desire. Desire is also their
    master. They are slaves of the worst kind and woe to him who tells
    them of their slavery.
        But you left no scream of terror, no moaning agony in the valley;
    you remained faithful that you would be delivered from the
    hardship. Here you are. Your hands and knees are bloody from their
    burden; your hair is full of dust, your mouth is parched, your empty
    stomach groans. Yes, with you we are well pleased; you are worthy.
    Now your body must be prepared. Then you will return to those who
    still live in the valley and led them here to us. Nothing else in your
    life matters now. Through this, Eternal Life."
        "Then what must I do now?"
        The serpent slithered itself down the tree and coiled itself beside
    me and looked at me. Its eyes were pure white with emerald green
    square pupils. Its skin was black, silk-like, shining mysterious, with
    deep brown speckles. A shimmering silver thread ran from it rattler
    tail along its whole length and up over its head, the silver thread
    dividing on its forehead and extending to the very edge of each of its
    piercing eyes towering over me.
        I began to panic and jumped to my feet to run from them.        
        "Wait," said the serpent, "childlike and simple in its appeal,
    "don't go, they won't hurt you. They prepared me also. You won't
    feel a thing. It is too late to turn back now. You have passed out of
    the valley. You can no longer turn back. We can not let you. We
    need your service for the valley has become too loud and confused.
    They need your help. We can not go into the valley for they are not
    of our kind. It must be one of their own." And I began to feel sleepy,
    needing rest as I had felt as a baby from just drinking of my
    mother's breast who was full and content with Mother holding me so
    very close, my heavy head near the comforting throbbing of her
    heart, that which I'd missed for so much since she'd cast me out of
    her precious womb, the womb of woman. I lowered to the ground
    and fell into deep undisturbed sleep.
           And they came and they prepared me. While they prepared me,
    in my sleep, my eyes opened inward and there was darkness and my
    ears opened inward and there was silence. I was still and I knew,
    knew time before time, space before space, world before world,
    creation before creation as it was meant to be. I was awakened.         
        Awakened, I heard the screams echoing about in the valley, a
    grand symphony of pain. How loudly they screamed shaking the
    very stars in the sky, calling out to heaven to be rescued from the
    burning building, the sinking ship. I could see the smoke rising up
    out of the valley from their burning. I could smell the burning flesh.
    I began the long crawl to the valley. A fresh ache tore at the bottom
    of my heart. The partially healed wounds on my hands and knees
    were opened by the rocky soil. Tears flowed down my cheeks and
    onto the ground I crawled over. I was afraid I would not be able to
    help them.
                                              






  
 

                                        
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Can you help me?
Could someone help me?
I’m afraid. O God, I'm afraid.
Help me
This only I pray...