The Cornucopia of Healing

I am writing in a stone and glass tower – a new library at Oxford University. If I could slice an opening in time and walk through, I would find myself on Neolithic lands.

I see people gathered on henges – concentric circles in the earth – in ceremony, mourning, and contemplation. A buttercup shows itself. The wind speaks.

I want to ask them, “Who are you? What is your intention in this place?”

I am unseen. But one from their community – who sees the invisible – recognizes me. He comes closer.

He sees me. And the world behind me – the soaring towers, the sanctuaries of learning, the riches.

I say:

“What is it that your people ask for?”

He says:

“Plentitude. The horn of cornucopia.”

I ask:

“What can my people do to support you in that?”

He says:

“Healing themselves.”

I ask:

“What do you know about the hawk?”

He says:

“Great beauty. It is carried on the wind.”

I ask:

“What is your name?”

He says:

“Elseea.”

He says:

“You have a cornucopia. Please share it.”