Ok, here i am again... This time with a little story i worte!!! Please, do enjoy and be reasonable with the comments :P
You that guide the words and form the beauty of the speech, I ask thee come.
To you who inspired the greatest miracles of written form, I ask thee come.
You, the muse that speaks through the mind of humble human beings, visit me tonight and aid me upon this story, upon this fairy tale of mine.
Once upon a time, in a world far away, there lived in a deep forest next to a little village a hermit. None knew how the hermit came to live there, for he was in his humble hut since anyone could remember.
None cared about him; all were too busy going about their own lives to get involved with him or to get to know him. But when a problem rose they would go and ask for his advice. Sometimes they would find him staring at the sky, watching as the clouds went by, others conversing with trees and sometimes, woodcutters would hear him sing and make fun of him with their companions for the crazy hermit.
But there lives in that little village an old woman as well. Old and wise she were, a healer or a witch, depending on whom you asked. But whatever one would call her, she was always kind and all respected her and cared for her. She was usually very curious about the hermit in the forest but never went to see him in person. So she would ask the younger ones that went to him with their problems to tell her what they discussed.
One day, a young man came down for the hermits’ hut smiling. The old witch saw him and asked him to come closer and tell her about his visit. The young man said that he had been in love but feared to ask for his maidens hand because he thought of himself way beneath her father’s standards for his daughters groom. Then he said how he went on talking about his fears and all the scenarios that he created in his mind and how they tortured him. “And what did the hermit say?” asked the old lady. “He only said: love yourself for what you are, decide firmly on what you want to be”. “Well, that is a very fine advice, do you intent to keep it?” said the old lady. “How can I follow the advice of someone who never found love or felt what it means to be in love? How can I believe he understood how I felt? I mean how can I not love who I am? He is just a foolish old man, I only went to him because my mother asked me to…” said the young man and left without giving a second thought to what he said or what the hermit told him. “I see” said the old woman.
The other day, a middle aged woman came out of the forest, cussing her way because her dresses had been cut by branches. “Come here you” said the old lady, “tell me what happened with the hermit?” “Oh, I went to ask him about my son. I mean he is turning to the age when he need to learn a craft and I went to ask the hermit his opinion about what my son should do. I told him about knighthood, or building, or even sending him to be a wise man at the towns university, oh how much honor our family will have then…” and she went on and on, telling her about her son and what the boy could become. The old woman kept listening patiently and when the other lady ceased talking, she asked her what the hermit had said. “Oh he talked in riddles. He told me to let my son dream. Like that boy has any aspirations. And his father doesn't even care or wants to get involved with his son future. It’s all up to me in this family”. “I see” was what the old witch replied as the woman walked away, still dreaming about her sons many glorious futures.
Some days later, the old woman was sitting outside her house, enjoying the sun and knitting, while she heard some women and men talking about the hermit. She kept listening discreetly as they kept going on about how they pitied the hermit for the life he had chosen, on how he was without friends, a crazy man, without anyone on the word. How he never found love, how he spent his time doing nothing at all and many, many more awful things.
At night, the old witch got out of her house and went to the hermits place. There he found him sitting staring at the moon. And a beautiful moon it was. She sat beside him and stared at the moon as well. The she talked to him.
“You know, none cares to listen to what you advise them. And they just badmouth you and judge your options and your life.”
“And still, my dear friend, here we are sitting together in our company watching the glorious maiden of the sky as she dances through the veils of the night.”
“I see no company beside you and….” And then she saw, some unicorns sitting at the nearest trees, elves on branches and many other wondrous things. “I did not see them a second ago…”
“How could you? You were with anger. Anger uncalled for really. Children will always be children.”
She stared at him with respect, this patient, calm, tranquil man that kept staring at the moon, with a faint smile on his face. And then she stared at the moon again. But the moon was not there anymore. Neither was the forest. There she saw a lake with calm waters and on the lake, a woman young and beautiful beyond human measure dressed in white and with a sad pale face, dancing on the water, her feet leaving small circled on the surface as she danced. Her reflection was that of a full moon.
“You know, the answer to all questions is always simple enough. Miracles are all around us. The world is so much more than what we believe it is. Great beauty can be found everywhere, if you only know how to look. The pale maiden dances for her lover, the bright king of day. But only a few, can watch her majestic dance, the love coming from her every leap, the sensuality of her dancing, the longing, the passion. So intense and so pure that can only be felt on the present, right now. That is true love, divine love. And if you are worthy, the pale maiden will carry you on her dancing and make you feel the true depth of love.”
And as he said, the old woman, was now young, and she was carried away by the dancing of the pale maiden, dancing with her, become one with her, feeling a love passion so intense and so subtle at the same time, so grand and so powerful, yet so composed. She danced a slow and sensual dance and with her minds eyes she could see the bright king, smiling at her, accepting her love even though they were so far away, a smile with sadness with love so warm, like the warm of spring, a passion so hot as the blaze of summer, a longing so subtle as the sunlight passing through the clouds in autumn, a loneliness so strong as the cols breeze of winter. All that could be felt in just this dance…
And then she was sitting next to the hermit again, old as she was, perplexed and awestruck. “You have felt all this?”
“I have danced with the pale maiden, yes. And I have fought for the bright king. And much more…” he looked at her, with a smile so different that nay other smile she had ever seen, so true and genuine. “You must go now. Time passes differently when one connects with other realms. You need your rest.” And with that, she left although she could not sleep well at night.
The next day, she went on about her usual routine. And again, people gathered and started talking and gossiping. And again, the conversation turned to the hermit. And yet again, they started criticizing him and comparing his way of living with theirs. This time though, the old witch put down her knitting needles and went to them.
“Have you not learnt not to judge a book by its cover? You say things about a man you do not know and never tried to understand. But I must tell you, that man has lived a thousand lives more than you will ever do, for he is a whole world, so full with dreams, emotions and experience that none of you will ever accomplish. So go on about your lives and try not to judge that which you do not understand and will never know! First look upon yourselves and your own life, and then try to criticize someone else’s”
As i dream, so shall it be!
From the Ashes i will always rise!