I heard a whisper in the night, a soft indrawn breath.What you believe waits to greet you is what you will find.

I heard a whisper in the night, a soft indrawn breath.
I followed the sound.
The night was cool and still, the dark sky an ocean of stars. Moonlight pale as a ghost haloes the trees, leaf and branch, the sound of a night bird the faint huff-n-hoot of an owl. The hour was late the moment thin and stretched. I reached out and there it was an echo in the whisper of the indrawn breath, clear as the sound of a bell in the stillness of a cold and frosty night, the answer to a question I had asked countless times. What waits beyond death? The answer sparked and sparked again in a whisper, a yielding breath.
What you believe waits to greet you is what you will find. It is as simple and as uncomplicated as the wish you made when the moon was a silver sixpence and you wished upon a star.
Well there you go I thought to myself, a raggedy answer to a raggedy question, sighing inside my head.
And in all that waning, thin-white light flooding down from the sky, in the deep quiet, in the solitude, I heard a whisper in the night, a soft indrawn breath and I thought:
Can you hear goodness can you hear love. Does it have a sound, a vibration, a frequency, does it glow and ring in the soul?
In light we are created in light we yearn to die and return.
I heard a whisper in the night, the hush of an indrawn breath and then something soft brushed across my face, an almost presence that stirred a faint memory of something lost something gained but it fled before I could recognise its face. About then the world moved on and the cool, night air breathed again.