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Posts Tagged ‘stars’

The path was familiar, but the terrain seemed unknown. The child’s hands brushed the long purple cat-tail grass, then caught a drifting dandelion head as it bobbed upon the blissful breeze, making a wish before releasing it to dance away towards the sun’s bright rays.

The sweet scene proved but momentary delusion. The jaded adult stared blankly, mocked by words that no longer flowed where gentle streams once meandered through forests towards some iconic tree, embellished with fanciful stories like kite tails caught in branches where only children dared to climb.

When the feathery dandelion dissolved from sight, small feet skipped the pine-needled path to the place where kite tails dangled like mosaic mobiles from ancient branches; small hands traced the textured bark like a puzzle to be solved or a tower to be climbed.

The memory of childhood was rusting and eroding, tarnished by trials too terrible for small minds to comprehend. Some part had passed into dispassionate past, moving almost beyond recall. Thoughts that once danced brightly on air now suspended dimly in dust, threadbare and motionless like a forgotten child’s toy that might never bring joy or bright smiles again.

Hand over hand with bubbling hope, the child searched through leaves for any trace of life or light or laughter, any scraps of words or tails of kites that might unhide themselves in the tell-tale breeze. Then a reconnecting squeal of delight severed the silence. ‘You found me,’ the old man’s voice trembled, washing his tired spirit new like a breeze and a river and a kite taking flight.

‘I never forgot where to look,’ the small, white-haired boy replied. ‘The stars appear and disappear each day, turning days into endless years. Yet still this tree stands where it has always been.’

‘Another year has passed indeed,’ the old man lamented, the twinkle in his eye clouded by the threat of tears. ‘Once more, I am reminded that I am older than the universe itself.’

‘Yes,’ the child replied, ‘But you are as young as the universe too. You are the moon, but I am a star. A moon by itself is not a universe. Nor can a universe be made of a single star. I have climbed here today to show you the galaxy.’

The old man trembled as he received into his ancient hands the small box the child proffered. Actually, it seemed more like a wordless book than a box, and as he opened the cover, a galaxy of tiny paper stars and planets swirled endlessly before his eyes.

‘One day your time will come to join the stars,’ the little boy explained. ‘But until that time, you hold the stars within your hands, inside a book you must learn to read so that you might never forget what it means to be a child, though others might not understand.’

The old man closed the cover, forever protecting the paper stars that the child had cut one by one from coloured paper with tiny hands. And he sighed to know how painstakingly the little boy had glued and glittered each one, so that when light touched them, they would beam like cosmic jewels to remind him of the life he had now and the universe that would some day embrace him. And though he was eternally grateful, he also felt a sadness well inside him, for the child who had found him hidden in the tree was not the one he had most wished to see.

‘It has been so long,’ the old man’s voice trembled, ‘since the laughter of the little girl with pink bows in her hair filled these branches. I am truly afraid she has forgotten how to climb. Once upon a time she used to hang her tiny butterflies from long pieces of glittery string; I would hear her giggle from some distant place when I discovered what she had left for me to find. But now it has been so long, I am sure she has forgotten.’

Then the small child realised that the old man did not understand. ‘She is the one who sent me here! She is the one who cut out each star by hand. She is the one who gave each star its shine and placed each one inside this box for you. It may seem as though she has forgotten everything, but on certain days, her memory is awakened, and the universe that dances inside her smile flows only in the direction of this ancient tree. She knows that today is your special day, and she alone has sent me here with this gift for you.’

And as the old man’s weathered eye released a tired tear of relief, it washed down his cheek, smoothing the ripples that time had etched upon his ancient face. As more tears fell, they washed him clean and new, smudging the furrowed lines and erasing the countless years since childhood was all that he might ever know. Even now as he looked at the hand he lifted to brush the next tear away, he marvelled at how small it was, how totally devoid of any sign that he might be growing older rather than younger.

Opening the book shaped box once more, he drew from beneath the paper stars a tiny planet, made of glass so shiny and pure that it reflected his image back to his eyes so that he knew for certain now that he was indeed only a small, white-haired boy. The old man still sat beside him on the branch, but in the long distant future, gently reminding him to take all the time in the world to be a child, to marvel in the mystery of all that it meant to be so young and small.

And as the sun began to set, the boy sat quietly, his leg dangling over the branch, humming a tune, completely alone. The old man and his box of paper stars had faded into some future time and space. The child breathed the crisp air into his tiny lungs, infused with the strange scent of magical winter leaves that grew only on this tall tree while all other trees bore the barest branches. An early star shot across the dusky sky, and the child closed his eyes to whisper his wish. Today was his special day. He kept his eyes scrunched tightly closed til he was certain he could hear the almost forgotten sounds of another child’s steps skipping with delight in the sparkling starlight.

Wishing the happiest birthday ever to my dear friend, LP – may all your wishes come true today and always – Angelica 🙂 🙂 🙂

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Magic me with sparkling words like streamers falling from the sky
The stars above all find their shine in words spoken from you to I
Send your thoughts like notes upon a paperboat that floats downstream
Open hearts and minds entwine like children lost inside a dream.
 
 
Wash your magic over me in friendship like a waterfall
Feel the joy wash over you, restoring each cell of your soul.
The child in you was never lost or locked away from who you are –
 You are the magic white haired boy; you are Orion’s Brightest Star.

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The sun set slowly over the ocean, the warmth of its light, orange and red bathing the land. Sitting high on the sand dune, we watched as the shadows on the ripples in the sand became like the wrinkles on an old man’s face. It made me sad, because it was like the sun was setting on my life. Then my life has been a wonderful thing and the magic continues. One by one, the stars came out to play and when the sun finally disappeared, we were blessed to be sitting and looking at a billion other worlds.

The time had come once more for the child in me to reveal himself. The serious thoughts of the adult made way for the imaginings of the child. Smiling at my two friends, I knew what I had in store for them tonight and they were excited because they knew the magic I weaved. Tonight, we would not take the flying fox, although I am sure it would be fun. Tonight, I wanted us all to reflect on what we had and how lucky we were. I climbed to my feet and with outstretched hands raised them to stand beside me. A gentle breeze blew and as it moved through the grasses and the daisies, it was as though it was talking to us in a language only children could understand. We stood and admired the Friendship Tree in the distance for a while and thought of all that it had given us. We would be there again later.

It is kind of magical how sharing your thoughts with friends makes you feel light inside. Together it was like we floated above the ground. Our feet gently brushing the daisies as we weaved our way through the Magic Forest. At night the forest came to life with the most wonderful forms. Faeries and sprites danced around toadstool rings to the playful tunes that echoed from deep within the woods. We passed a deer and a rabbit as they chased one another around the trees, giggling as they went, stopping only to catch their breaths before chasing once more. The River of Redemption was flowing gently tonight, fallen leaves drifting and spinning as they went. As we passed it sang to us a tune of peace and tranquility.

We stood at the edge of the Magic Forest, and across the field the Friendship Tree stood in all its glory. The moon had risen and the glow lit the tree up so that it looked even more magical than before. The soft light playing on the leaves, shimmering as they danced in the breeze. I had never seen it like this before, and by the look on the faces of my friends, neither had they. We were in awe at is beauty. As we approached, the rough texture of its bark made it look old, for it was old. Like those that had not long ago sat and watched the sun set, it had waited for the child to return. To bring life to it once more as has happened so often before.

It was as though the journey we had just taken was the journey of life itself, but in reverse, where we have grown young, not old. That is the magic that is this place. As we stood in admiration, the rough bark turned smooth and where withered leaves once hung, a fresh green blanket had replaced them. It was as though we had brought life once again to the tree. I climbed into the tree, helping my friends behind me. Climbing quickly, we paused momentarily to play with the puppies and hang a few more butterflies that we had gathered in the Magic Forest. We continued to climb and as we approached the book of dreams, the light of the moon through the leaves bathed it in an ethereal glow. We reflected on the many words that have been written and what they meant to us all. We stood together, hearts touched as each took a turn to read their favorite piece.

When we had finished reading my two friends smiled, pleased at all they had seen. Little did they know what was yet in store for them? I took their hands and we climbed the last boughs to the Secret Door. Standing outside full of anticipation, I asked them to close their eyes. Hesitation crept over them, but our friendship was based on trust and they relented. I opened the door and in a moment we were inside where I was ready to reveal to them what they had never before seen. As they opened up their eyes, the most wonderful visions appeared. All the good things they had imagined and dreamed of whilst in the tree were revealed. A world that was like none they had known existed. ‘What is this place?’ they asked. I knew it was special, but were they really ready to be amazed.

‘This is a glimpse of the future. This where we will all one day be.’ They reflected, then with her faux fur scarf dangling playfully at her feet, my friend enquired. ‘Is it heaven?’ I could not answer, well not properly, because I had never thought to give a place so beautiful a name. In her most beautiful red dress covered in a rose pattern, my other friend confidently added, ‘well I think it is heaven.’ I smiled and thought to myself, that maybe it was possible. But then for me it was still just a vision of what the future had to hold and knowing it was there was far more important than giving it a name. We sat quietly for a long while today and embraced all that was before us. When the time came to leave, my friends found it as difficult as I had several times before. ‘Come, this is not our time. We have many years ahead of us before we will be here again’.

With that, we climbed back through the door, closing it carefully behind us. We made our way to the Book of Dreams and in it we wrote –

There is a place where we have been,

A place where dreams are made.

Through a door into a world,

That awaits a special day.

No longer will we fear the time,

Where life we know must end.

For now we have a place to be,

A place to wait for friends.

Even though we’ve seen inside,

And our future has been told.

We will stay young for ever more,

Although we may grow old.

So deep inside the Friendship Tree,

This special place will be.

It waits for time to tell its tales,

It waits for you and me.

The Book of Dreams was closed once more, and the three friends climbed down the tree. They lay amongst the daisies as they had so many times before, looking into the night sky. They knew now that the Friendship Tree would live on forever. The Book of Dreams would have words written inside for all to read for as long as words could be spoken. The Secret Place had many more wonderful dreams and imaginings to be shown, and together they would share these. Only time and the mind would determine what these may be, and we shall wait in anticipation at the wonder of it all.

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