Running with the stags, it is Beltane. The blood is hot and the senses are quick. The mead and the maiden disappear like vapors as the hoofbeats bare down. Survival is not assured. To enter in to this ritual tells the truth of a man; for he has no choice. He must go beyond the wall of fear to meet himself. At one moment- a flash that stands for eternity, he is absorbed in the knowing that his spirit is much larger than the ocean or the sky and land. His life and spirit are endless, succeeding the illusion of ashes and dust.