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Posts Tagged ‘water’

There’s a certain kind of magic that resides within a star,

Like tiny diamonds in the sky to show you where they are.

Every one a special place to fill the night time sky,

A shining light for all to see with our tiny wondering eyes.

 

Some will glow and sparkle like the eyes of children past,

Others laugh and giggle as they call on us at last.

Some will shoot across the sky and fade like life we know,

A wish to make for us to dream wherever we may go.

 

There are stories that will fill your mind from imaginations wild,

Filled with hope and wonder from the thoughts of just one child.

You’ll feel the words that lift you to a very special place,

Where stars are born along with dreams somewhere there in space.

 

In the moon glow you will find him as he waits to make a wish,

To banish all that’s bad and make good all there is.

Staring so intently deep into the night-time sky,

Waiting for that special star as he watches it go by.

 

Each and every star you see is a wish that waits to be,

A dream that one-day will come true there for you to see.

A magic all so simple if you believe in who you are,

Cast your fears aside and see the magic in a star.

 

 

Unknown

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He stood overlooking the rolling valley in the soft evening light, with the Tree bathed in the glow of the sun’s golden rays. His long blue coat with its polished buttons flapped in the breeze, gently tapping on his legs like a small child seeking his attention, with the buttons making a tinkety tink. As he studied all that lay before him, he watched as the wheat field swayed like the surface of the ocean with an ever changing texture. He glanced in the direction of the Tree and as he looked closer he thought he saw with his tiny eyes a glint of light as it reflected from within the Tree, and as he concentrated harder he could hear the smallest sound of laughter echoing from within. ‘No, it can’t be,’ he thought to himself, but there it was again, ‘surely not?’ Excitedly he ran through the wheat field, nearly falling as his tiny legs almost lost all control as he leaped and bounded on his way, and when he finally stood at the bottom of the Tree, he waited and he listened intently. The laughter was still there, but it had become weaker, almost more distant as if fading into obscurity far from the deepest reaches of his imagination as if drifting away from where it had begun.

He climbed the Tree to where he would usually sit and once inside he gazed around, but there was not a single soul to be found, not a sign that anyone had been here in the last while. He bowed his head and he wondered, then as the breeze blew through the dangling green leaves he heard it once more. He turned then looked overhead and there he noticed the familiar sight of a mobile with the remnants of shattered butterflies suspended precariously from the fragile pieces of string. As it wavered in the light he saw one final in tact butterfly, the last one hung from a rainbow coloured string and as it span in the breeze so the softest laughter could be heard. He thought to a time not long ago and he remembered this one, the rescue one, the one that had sacrificed all to search for the small boy that had drowned in all his sorrow and self-pity, the one that told of the lengths to which friends will go for one another. He approached it cautiously, with the light reflecting like a kaleidoscope from its silken wings and as he did so it fell, and with an outstretched hand he grasped and held on tightly so that it would not disintegrate on the barren ground below as so many others had.

Held now tightly within his tiny palms, he could see that whilst it was the same one, there was now more. Its words told of misfortune and despair, joy and suffering and waiting for the joy once more, but how could he be so sure, was that the laughter mingled with a sadness? He thought long and hard, and then he climbed down from the Tree, planting his feet firmly on the desolate earth below with a tiny puff of dust as he landed. He stepped away from the canopy that shielded him, and as he stood there with the hum of the night echoing he looked deep into the night sky. He reached out and grasped a small piece of the delicate velvet that spanned the sky which in turn held the many stars of hope in his vision and then he clenched his fist and took a piece in his hand. He made a soft velvet bag and he placed the delicate butterfly within mingled with just a few stars for protection, and as he did it began to stir before he closed the bag tightly. In the distance the light radiated from the magic forest and the faintest sounds of the faeries and elves carried upon the breeze to where he stood, their songs drawing him towards them. He trod the path of fortune that he had travelled so often before and as he reached the forest he watched in wonder as the small ones danced and sprinkled their magic dust upon the ground around them. He watched in amazement as everywhere it landed tiny flowers grew, in pinks and reds and blue, and dragonflies flitted carefree here and there. ‘Was this life giving, did it really have the magic he had come to find?’ he thought to himself. He thought no more and he quickly gathered some of faerie dust and he placed it inside the black bag alongside the butterfly mobile and stars, and as he did so the butterfly began to stir to life with its delicate wings fanning slowly like the beat of a tiny heart, which brought a smile to his face.

His soft blue eyes sparkled in the moonlight as he stood looking out from where the forest met the wheat field once more, and he watched as a fox danced in the moon’s glow. He sat quietly, unseen, admiring the enthusiasm with which she moved, full of life, full of believing, not a care in the world. Then as he looked on a flash of light raced across the sky, exploding like a firework and sprinkling hundreds of tiny stars across the land and like little diamonds they sparkled here and there and he searched through the field gathering each and every one of them adding them to his magical collection. Everything inside the bag now glowed bright and strong and the energy it contained was stronger than any he had made before. All this time with his concentration so intense on his task, he did not see that the fox had stopped and was looking on with a smile on her face, because she understood who he was and what it was he was seeking. He had nearly filled the bag but he wanted more, so he looked to the sky and his favorite constellation of Orion where stars are born, and he reached deep into it with his mind. With his imagination he gathered up a handful of the brightest ones that would shine like only a candle could shine, and he placed them into the bag as well.

With his prize held firmly, he made his way back to the Tree and he climbed inside with the silence all around him. There was still no sign that any one had been there and he wondered if they ever would again, but then maybe there was still time? He went to the Book of Dreams and he tore out some of the blank pages it contained and placed them inside like tiny blank butterflies waiting to be filled with words, then he took a single piece and put it in his coat pocket. Before he closed the bag to protect all that it contained, he made a tiny dragonfly.

 

Believing in the one you are,

Thoughts that give you strength and hope,

Words that carry you away,

At times when you don’t think you’ll cope.

 

Laughing in the morning sun,

Crying in the midday rain,

Then smiling at the stars that shine,

Because like you they’ll shine again.

 

For each and every star that falls,

A wish awaits for you to make,

A dream come true in times to come,

With every little step you take.

 

The stars you hold within your hands,

Are gathered there for you to see,

So even in your darkest hours,

You will pull through it’s your destiny.

 

He finished and put this into the bag, and then he placed his hand into a hole in the solid trunk of the Tree, searching with his tiny fingers, and when he removed it he was holding a small candle, like the light of life to be shared, to glow when the darkness was at its worst, a reminder of all that life is and ever will be. His treasure was now complete, the magic was captured, and now he placed the bag where his friend would usually sit with her pen and paper in hand and then he turned, but before climbing down he made a wish. It was a wish he would not share, but a wish just the same, a wish upon the star that he had seen earlier and had waited to use. He climbed down from the Tree with its rough-hewn bark and as he stood there, all was silent. The forest was asleep and the fox was gone, but as he always knew, the stars still shined, they would always shine, they would always smile and their laughter would be heard by all those that believed. He knew his friend believed just as he did, and he only hoped that his gift could give her the strength that his words had so often given before. Only time would tell, but like before he truly believed and he would never let any other thought cross into the enquiring mind of the child she was, and that one day she would realise her wildest dreams.

He sat now by the ocean blue, with his bare feet resting in the cool waters as if drawing from the magic that it offered. He took the piece of paper from his jacket pocket and he folded it carefully into the most wonderful of paper boats, and then he added some words of hope, of believing. In the moonlight, he watched as it set sail as so many had before in search of a dream. He had sprinkled this with some of his magic, yes his. He thought he was magic, no, he knew he was magic and his words would always be like air and water, they would always speak of all the positive things that life has to offer and they were there for all those less fortunate than he, all those that needed a helping hand. That was who he was and always would be and his happiness was found in the happiness that he gave to others, the most wonderful of gifts that costs nothing but a simple smile. He would wait here until this paper boat returned and he would hope that his friend would find the gift he left for her. Now as he sat quietly, the stars smiled down upon him and he smiled back, and the colours of the Milky Way glowed in reds and pinks, with just a touch of cobalt blue smudged across, intermingled amongst the stars. He laughed, and they laughed to. Yes life was a wonderful thing.

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Happiness is a piece of mind,

It’s a state where smiles abound.

It is all the things we do in life,

The many joys that we have found.

 

It is not a thing that one man owns,

Or only one can give.

It is there to share with everyone,

Through every day we live.

 

It’s the simple words that I may share,

It’s the tales that bring a smile,

It’s the strength you give without a thought,

That goes the extra mile.

 

It’s the magic that the stars can bring,

On a cold dark lonely night.

When all seems lost but then is found,

And everything’s alright.

 

It’s a paper boat that sails the seas,

On a journey far and wide.

Waiting to return one day,

When everything is right.

 

It is why I live the way I do,

It is what keeps me sustained,

Happiness runs through my blood,

Making sunshine from the rain.

 

So as I climb into a tree,

I smile at all that’s there,

The mobiles spinning in the sun,

The Book Of Dreams with words to share.

 

The laughter at the things I see,

As I watch the children play,

Waiting for the stars to come,

To light the end of day.

 

So when you look into the sky,

See the stars all smiling bright,

Make a wish for all you want,

And everything will be alright.

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Tale: Lost

The small boy sat in the confines of his own little world with confusion all around him. In the space of twenty four hours he had travelled through the outmost reaches of his mind and back again, and now he had never been so unsure. Words had come and gone like the sun and moon, but instead of light and happiness, they offered just a bitter taste for those that would write and read them. Where once flowers bloomed in the soft sunlight, now only the withered leaves on crooked stalks remained with the beauty of what had been long gone, colours faded like a weathered tapestry hung out to air, but forgotten. As the intricate details had been painted on the canvas that was his life, so they had just as quickly washed away, one by one fading into oblivion, to not become even a distant memory. He fought back the tears that formed in his bright blue eyes that until now had seen so clearly. Instead, where there was once a sparkle like the stars that filled the night sky, there was only darkness.

He now walked a different road, devoid of what he had come to know, with the magic that he had woven so often before now no more than an illusion, and not even a good illusion at that. For all that he had done, he now felt that he had let others down tenfold and his punishment was to walk forever more in the shadow of his memories. If only he could take back all the words and just replace them with a clearer understanding of what had truly been. Even now time seemed to stand still and the future remained an unknown that he feared more than anything he had feared in his life, even more fearful than death that he had seen and chased away time and again. He stared into the deep blue sky with its many clouds forming shapes that he no longer understood, at the same time he wondered if he himself was any more or just an apparition of a wild, delusional mind.

‘If only I could take back all that had been cast out for the world to see, I would do it in a heartbeat, I would accept whatever punishment awaited me just to change all the bad to good,’ he thought. Time was not his friend now, but he wished that forgiveness was easier to come by than he had seen, where misunderstandings are understood and eyes would see so clearly. But could that ever possibly be? In the chilled wind that blew, he huddled in silence listening for the faintest sign of life, of hope. Birds sang sweetly, and their songs were carried on the stiff breeze like the heady perfume of the flowers that no longer lay like a carpet before him. He stood mesmerised by the thoughts that now flooded from his mind and like a child grasping in the mist at some figment of the imagination, he watched as it all slipped through his tiny fingers. He turned his back on all he had come to know and understand as he prepared to journey now into the unknown realms of obscurity, falling, spiralling out of self control into the cold dark sea.

He struggled to take a breath as he fought to keep himself afloat, whilst all around him others watched on without a worry or a care. ‘How can this be?’ he thought as he tried in vain to reach out for familiar hands that may rescue him, pull him from the stormy seas that he had now been swept into, but they were gone. “Why is it that only I understand?” He shouted, in a last desperate attempt to be heard. “Can no one see me here, does no one care?” He uttered, as his voice faded, before he took that one last breath, and was pulled into the water’s cold depths, lost, to never be seen again.

Some say that if you listen carefully, you can hear his cries in the songs of the whales and dolphins as they travel carefree across the oceans blue. Others say his form drifts with the tides like a tiny paper boat, waiting for the day that he may come home once more, forgiven for all that he had done wrong, and for the wrong doing of others that he had taken full responsibility for. Until then, the stars that filled the night sky would offer those that had known him a token gesture in his memory if they so chose, but then like a shooting star he could be forgotten in the blink of an eye.

Lost inside the mind of a child,
Where the dreams that formed now drift away,
Gone with the stormy winds that blow,
Never to be seen again.

A faded distant memory,
Of all the things that came to be,
Banished to the waters deep,
From eyes it hides no longer seen.

Stars that twinkle in the night,
Reflecting now on waters clear,
Where sails the fragile paper boat,
Words all written true and clear.

Rescue me for I am lost,
Guide me with the light of life,
Burning in a lantern strong,
In the darkness of the night.

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It was quiet and calm, or was that what he saw within his mind as he pondered so many things that had come to be? Gradually the sounds of birds filled the air with their songs, and he broke free of the trance that had contained him for a while now. As he did many things began to come to light, taking shape more clearly before him until he finally woke from the depths of where he had been.

The small boy sat on the beach amongst the pebbles with their rough-hewn texture from the many years of exposure to the wind and waves, which had left them looking like small pieces of black honeycomb. He marveled at the many brightly colored shells of all shapes and sizes that lay intermingled with the pebbles, which formed a rainbow carpet around him. He was alone on the beach and it was as if he was sitting upon a cloud looking down onto the earth below, where its canvas of life magically opened up for him to see. On the distant waters edge, strands of seaweed lay tangled, intertwined in a longing embrace that reached out for what seemed like forever into the fading distance. The water was cool and clear, and the small waves gave a swoosh and then a tiny dying roar as they rolled ever so gently onto the sand and across the pebbles once more, rolling and tumbling them like marbles tinkling as they tapped upon one another. Except for the tiny ripples that intermittently travelled upon the surface, the water was soft and smooth, almost like a mirror reflecting the clouds above.

He looked up to the sky, which was dark and foreboding, where the clouds drifted like cotton candy upon the breeze, forming shapes that would stir a young boys imagination. From time to time they would clear, allowing the sun to break through and dance its golden rays upon the water leaving tiny diamonds reflecting off the surface as if it were a treasure otherwise unseen. The shadows of the clouds moved quickly across the sand like mystical magical creatures that could not be seen, dancing as they scurried into the distance. He smiled at all his imagination had painted, and he hoped that when the time came he could paint with his words all of what he saw so that those that read them would feel all that he now felt. For a brief moment, the tiniest drops of rain fell and he pulled his blue coat around himself so that he could keep warm. Each drop that tapped upon his long white hair invoked memories, and at the same time offered a promise of things to come. ‘Water is life,’ he thought to himself, and as he glanced into the distance once more to where the sunlight filtered through the clouds and a rainbow formed between sky and ocean, he knew these were the places of which his dreams were made. Within the light floated a paper boat of hope, on its own journey of discovery, which was sent out long ago and was now waiting to come home once more.

After the briefest of moments the rain eased, and as the sun broke through once more the small boy climbed to his feet and looked to both ends of the beach. In one direction lay the old wooden pier with its weathered timber boards, greying in the harsh sunlight of years gone past. Along side it sat the new, cold and rather sterile concrete one, and together they symbolized the coming together of the past and the future, a cross road at which he now found himself. In the other direction lay a horizon so distant that he could see no end, and right now this also held relevance to him. On the pier, people walked its length and returned, as if they themselves were taking a journey of discovery, but in the other direction the beach was empty and there was no one. As he stared into the distance, he wondered if that journey had become so daunting that no one dared to find out what lay beyond, if all hope was gone. He turned and glanced at a shape that had been drawn in the sand behind him, and as he looked at it he knew that at some point in time the waves would come to wash that vision away forever. His wide eyes sparkled as he realized it was a dragonfly, large and proud, with shells for its eyes and body, carefully etched by a craftsman’s hand, and alone it signified the ongoing wonders that his life was yet to reveal, offering the tiniest semblance of hope.

He smiled, and then gave a small laugh, as along side the shape, stars began to form as if by magic, and as they did he heard the laughter of the child that he had heard so often before. The stars sparkled and shone as if coming to life and as they did, so the day turned to night and the colors of the galaxies painted them selves upon the sand as if they were watercolors from an artist’s hand, sent awash on the waves. The clouds that had once filled the skies now disappeared, and above him a million tiny eyes glistened, all smiling for him to see, and with them the sound of children’s laughter filled his mind with wonder. Turning once more to the sand, he saw that the shape which once was etched into its soft surface was now gone, and as a familiar voice called soft and low, he wondered. Looking to the stars again he spied a shape, tied together by light, life and all that dreams are made of. It was the dragonfly and he knew that forevermore there would be a lasting impression of all he had become, for all to see sparkling in the stars above.

So where is it that you will find him? There, in the glow of the Orion Nebula, the place where stars are born, where life begins, but never ends, where wishes are made and dreams will come true. For now he remained earth bound, but what could now be seen would mean that he would never be forgotten.

 

Dragonfly In Sand

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She lay sleeping, her dreams carrying her from scenario to scenario, at times in a nightmarish form with faceless people barking instructions and demands without any thought of what was humanly possible. With all its wonder, the world had become a confusing mess and once again she had been torn here and there by those that knew her and had wished for the best. She had sought opinions from many, and each time the same sounds reverberated but still gave no comfort, and even if they did, they offered no answers to the complex questions that now posed themselves each and every way she looked.

Whilst she slept the deepest slumber, a small boy walked the darkened path that she had feared to tread earlier. In his hand he held a lantern that burnt soft, with the warming glow lighting his face in a ghostly way. The yellow tones flickered as the flame danced precariously on the end of the wick, at times threatening to leap away, but at the last minute taking hold once more. He was just a distant form and the path he trod had become brighter for all that he had done, yet it had been made no clearer. His hands were small and within them he held the clues to the answers of many questions, with the words he scrawled upon the coarse textured paper joined to make sentences, then paragraphs and finally stories that offered some sort of dim hope where before no hope existed.

He had heard the gentle sobbing earlier in the evening and in the silhouette of a tall tree he had stood, contemplating the many thoughts that flooded into his mind. He had looked deep into the starry sky and marveled at what was unknown, at the same time seeing all that the child could see, the shapes that had become amazing visions that only a child’s mind could form. At the same time he had realized that what the child saw was only a glimpse of what once was, and that now the reality of what was needed would challenge everything that she had ever known. In the distance the sobbing had subsided, replaced by the gentle breaths of a sleeping child with the intermittent murmur as she battled the dreams that played in her tired mind.

As the lantern illuminated the path before him, the darkness filled in each of the footsteps that he had already taken, so that what was ahead was all that was really clear, and even then for only a short distance. He knew this was much like what confronted his friend, and he also knew that it was much of what he had faced for a long while now. This gave him a different perspective on much, but then the child in him still believed and held onto that belief as if it were the air that kept him alive. He stopped momentarily mid way along the path, and he lowered the lantern for a moment. He looked once more to his beloved night sky and all the stars that smiled upon him, and as he heard the laughter from above he realized that no matter what, they would always be there, and that regardless of what lay before him, the child would still always be able to reach for his dreams if he should so choose.

He turned to where he had come from, and he raised the lantern, and in doing so he realized that in the darkness the path looked much the same in either direction, but the difference was he knew what lay behind him, because he had been there already. He turned once more to where the forest lay and he continued, with the softness of the daisies that lined the path melting like a watercolor bathed in the ethereal glow. He reached where the small girl lay, curled up with the remnants of a tiny tear still on her cheek. He thought about the things that had crossed his mind in the short time since he had left the security of the Tree. Then he reached into his coat pockets with his tiny hand and within it he held those simple words that would become sentences, then paragraphs. He held the lantern above her so that the life-giving glow would warm her, and then he carefully sprinkled the magic of the words upon her. She stirred slightly, but did not wake and as the morning light began to paint the sky with the wonderful colors that brought life and clarity to the land, he disappeared into the night sky, now joining the stars, laughing and smiling as he would for evermore.

She woke from the strangest of dreams, and as she did, she thought for just a moment that she could hear familiar laughter. She looked into the sky just in time to see the final blink of the brightest star she had ever seen, just before it disappeared into the soft hues of pinks and reds that now filled the sky. As she sat there, staring down the path, she could see the silhouette of her favorite tall tree bathed in the wondrous colors, silently waiting. She remembered the night before, and the fear that gripped her, the confusion that had consumed her into a desperate tear filled slumber, yet now it was clearer. She remembered a dream, so vivid it was almost real. The familiar flash of blue bathed in light, like a dream she had had so many times before.

The sweet sounds of birds singing reminded her that she was alive, and that she had been given a chance, maybe for one last time. She remembered her nightmare, at the same time remembering how it had stopped suddenly and how it was then that words began to form in her mind. Now one by one those words fell into place, and as she listened the story they told gave her hope, gave her strength, and the courage to believe.

The future is in our hands, guided by the wisdom of all we learn on the roads we travel. You know above all else where it is you have been for you have seen that clearly, and the question you need to ask yourself now is are you truly prepared to leave that behind, so that it never ever consumes you again. The path you now travel may be daunting, but the person you are knows without a shadow of doubt what it is that you must do. If you take control and be true to who you are, you will navigate the challenges that you now face, and you will be who you need to be. If however you succumb to the temptations that have riddled your past, then the darkness will wrap you forever more and as quickly as you go, you will be forgotten.

She thought carefully about the words and she believed that she understood their meaning. As she sat there in reflection, some final words played within her mind.  The path ahead is clear in the light of day, and all we know will be laid out before us on a canvas that was created from the dreams of one. Times will come and go, like so many things in our lives and in the darkness we may all find fear and confusion once more, but if you look into the night sky you will realize it holds the dreams of a child. You must know that through those dreams you can believe, and the fears will disappear in the familiar twinkling of the stars with the distant echo of childish laughter.

She looked along the path to where the Friendship Tree stood tall and strong, now clearer in the light of day, and she wondered. It had been a while since she had climbed there as a child, only visiting from time to time to hang the butterflies that had helped her process the many questions that had consumed her over the last months. What is it that she would find there now?

 

On a closing note.

 

A story, ‘The Little Prince,’ speaks of many things and if you have never read it, then it may just benefit you. If you have read it, then do so again. There are lessons of friendships formed and the responsibilities that come with those, and there are lessons that remind us that sometimes we do become so consumed in the matters of consequence that we lose sight of the importance of what life truly is. When you are finished reading it, ask yourself, are you the prince, the fox, the rose or the pilot, or are you one or all of the people that the prince visits on his journey. Most of all, ask yourself, does the child inside you see the elephant, and can you hear my laughter in the stars at night.

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He reached into the waste paper basket overflowing with the many crumpled pieces of paper, each one containing the remnants of words that had started to form stories only a short while ago. It was like reaching into a bucket of oversized popcorn, with his tiny fingers struggling take hold of more than a single piece at a time. One by one he removed the scrunched up balls and carefully un-crumpled and straightened them, running the palm of his hand over their surface. ‘No, not that one, nor that one,’ he thought. They were full of words, but not the ones that he would normally write, but then he had just spent the last few months where his focus was off the child that lived so freely inside, instead searching for words of strength, encouragement and believing, words that seemed to hold much more importance at the time of their writing.

Now as he searched, his mind drifted back to the very beginning, where words just seemed to materialize upon the paper, as if magically transformed from his wildest imagination. He was almost ready to give up all hope, when the slightest glimmer, like a distant star hidden deep amongst the other stars in the night sky, caught his eye. He carefully unwrapped it, and as he looked he realised it was not his best, but then he knew he could polish it, ‘just like a thunder egg,’ his friend would say. Yes, this was it, it was how it all began and it was how it needed to be again. As he began to read the words a smile formed on his face, because he could now see what would become.

“The young boy placed his hands on the rough bark of the tree, running his fingers over its surface. He closed his eyes, feeling every single line as he traced the shapes and imagined what it was that they were forming, the familiar shapes and faces that stirred in his mind. He thought how his senses came to life with the sounds that drifted from the distant forest with all the magic that could be found there.”

That was where the words ended, and as he sat in the illumination of the tiny lamp which he imagined was lit by a firefly, he took out a pen and he continued with the unfinished story.

As the boy continued to feel the coarseness of the tree beneath his hands, his thoughts turned into dreams and he imagined he was being carried upon the breeze, floating aimlessly at first before taking the form of a tiny dragonfly with a greater purpose. Following the path lined with daisies soft and pink like a cushion of swaying color, perfumed sweetly to stir the senses even further, he darted here and there as if searching for something. He reached the end, and hovered where the path met the forest, and as he did the soft glow of the firefly lanterns within welcomed him to venture inside. The lights formed a halo that penetrated the canopy of trees as if shielding it in a dome of light. The sweet song sounds of the fairies as they danced and played, with their tiny shadows moving rhythmically against the tree trunks were mesmerizing and this reminded him of the many stories he had told and the many that he longed to tell once more.

The child continued to run his fingers over the knotted wood of the tree trunk, and as he did his vision changed and as it did he found himself sitting quietly in the tree. There he watched as the pink butterfly mobiles, ragged and worn from the harshness they had been subjected to, began to spin, slowly at first then ever faster. The faded colors coming to brilliant life once more and sending out flickering rays of light, which made him smile and he could not help but feel that the journey he had taken had a purpose beyond the imagination that even he could not understand. One by one the butterflies took flight, free now to fly into the dark night sky, reflecting the magic of the stars above. They glistened and they sparkled as their wings fluttered, and he watched as one by one they faded into the dark distance free forever more.

As he sat and stared into the blackness of the night he thought about the words he had written, and he remembered how the words of his friend had drifted softly within the tree. He turned his head and hanging from the strand of pink glittery string like a single Christmas bauble, he saw one last butterfly. It had not left, but yet it was free to do so. He wondered and he held out his hand and it landed on his open palm, where its wings beat soft and slow. He could see the tiny words inscribed, though in the dim light he could not read them, but then maybe he did not need to. Whilst all other butterflies were ephemeral, this one was different, because this one remained as a living reminder of the many things that had been, and were yet to come.

He took his hands from the trunk of the Tree, and as he did the visions faded, and he stood silently waiting once more for his friends to arrive. ‘They would be here soon,’ he thought, and he sat patiently folding a tiny dragonfly that he may share with them when they did arrive.

As he put down the pen, and he read the story that he had just written, he smiled triumphantly. It was not magic like many others he had written before, but he could see his words once more returning. He could feel the child stirring deep inside and he knew that the time would come and soon he would write with the magic that he held so long ago. He carefully folded the piece of paper, and when he was done, he carried it to the waters edge. It was calm and cool with the sun’s light dancing on the surface as if teased by the tiny ripples, with a gentle breeze that blew softly out to sea. It was the perfect day, and as he waded into the cool clear water, he wondered once more? He carefully placed the paper boat on the surface of the water and he watched as it was carried on the current and the breeze. He hoped his friend might find it and that the words would carry her back to the Tree once more, where she would gently tie the smallest of butterflies for the entire world to see.

Only time will tell, but then he had time to wait and he believed.

The magic of words,

From the mind of a child,

From the thoughts that appear,

Imaginations run wild.

All written on paper,

And folded with care,

To sail on an ocean,

With all that waits there.

Words that will tell,

Tales of magic so true,

Words to inspire,

In whatever you do.

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He smiled as his hand swept across the paper with an even stroke, with the pen drawing the last line of intricate detail on the coarse white paper in front of him. He stepped back and admired the many shapes that had been formed, with each one intertwined to weave a delicate web of characters and objects that he had come to know so well. Their starkness spoke of the journey that had been travelled and the unknown roads that had been crossed. Yet he knew that just as with the journey that had been taken, the colors would soon embrace what could be seen and life would come to be what he now knew.

His wrinkled hand with his fingers worn and ragged, like the twigs on some old tree, had turned the pages of a book with a tenderness that only a young child could bring. Carefully he had crafted the many words that had formed in his mind, and in doing so he had brought life where before hope of life was frail. As he turned the pages once more, he recognized that there were stories untold, but he knew as well that they were now for another to carry forward. As he looked into the picture that opened out before him, the children played once more in his mind and the colors that would bring life washed over it. The blue, red and pink tones that he new so well, now reflected in his eyes of blue and the smile on his face was a priceless gift he had been given in return. The laughter and the giggling echoed through his mind, reaching beyond the hidden dimensions that lay between reality and fantasy, where only children and a few brave souls would dare to venture.

As he changed his gaze, he noticed the clouds in the sky were being bathed in the softness of pinks and reds, and as they were, shapes formed of familiar imaginings, shapes that would become another dream. He lowered his gaze once more where his eyes followed the brown earth path that wound into the distance to a cliff top, where the fading sunlight shimmered, bringing his beloved ocean to life. Across that shimmering ocean he could see the flickering of a light, where standing tall on an island the light remained as a beacon of hope for all the lost children, now protected by the lamplighter. All this time as the light from the lighthouse came and went, the soft dancing light of a single lantern burnt strong perched precariously on a stonewall, as if to signify how fragile it still was. This was the light of life itself and as the colors grew, so did the light that it exuded, painting all it touched and protecting it from the dreaded darkness that had been searching in vain for his friend.

Nearby the hard wooden swing, where his two friends had shared the deepest of thoughts, had begun to come to life. As the colors wrapped around the metal chain links, growing slowly up their length, the green leaves with roses blooming here and there took hold. In his mind he could see a small girl in a red dress as she tried with all her strength to throw away the thoughts and fears that had shackled her to the barren ground below. At the same time he smiled as he remembered the shocked ‘no’ that reverberated from the lips of a small girl with pink ribbons in her hair, when a small boy asked, ‘so was it witchcraft?’

Now the color was flowing fast, like the memories that were flooding back, and the forest in the distance came into full view. There the magic was as strong as the creatures that lived within, and they gave thanks for all they had become from a vivid mind, a child’s mind. Still, he knew that there were many more hidden places within the forest to be explored, with many more lessons to be learned. The forest had grown in the last few months, crossing the void that was once a lifeless desert, reaching now to where a single ivory tower, a place of foreboding, stood tall but crumbling as the magic of the forest had begun to grasp its harsh stone white walls.

He followed the path back to where the Tree stood strong, adorned with beautiful butterflies, ladybugs and dragonflies that danced on the breeze reflecting a rainbow of light on those nearby. He looked closely at base of the Tree where the Book Of Dreams, filled with many words, lay open for all with a clear mind to read. The book reminded him also of where it all began, with a little prince, a fox and a Rose, and as he looked around these to came to life. The laughter had grown louder, and the sounds of the children playing, mixed with the gentle roar of the ocean reminded him once more of how important it was to believe. So with that he placed one last paper boat on the ocean, sending thanks to all who have chosen to believe and have embraced the thoughts and dreams he has shared.

A flash caught his eye, and he glimpsed of the remnants of a shooting star, making one final wish. Often he would look into the sky, and from it he would take the fading life of a shooting star and give hope where hope did not exist, casting a simple wish that would give courage and believing. Some would mock him for such imaginative thoughts, but he did not falter in his resolve and stood steadfast in all he believed, and for what it was worth he would continue to believe that there is magic in ones mind that spans all known realms. As he watched the stars twinkle, he could hear children’s laughter echoing from the depths of space, and he knew that one day he too would laugh as they do, a shining light for all to see.

He turned his back on the picture that had been completed, now full of color and life, with the memories locked in place for all time. This would remain forever a testament of a child’s mind and now all those that read his words could see the visions he saw so freely flowing from his mind.

Friendship Tree High Resolution Photo to be converted-2

 

The above image was painted on commission by artist Jenni Ivins. It contains many elements of the stories posted on the blog, plus elements that are found in the story, The Little Prince.

 

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They sparkle like the stars in the velvet sky,

Coloured with the blue of the deepest sea.

Smiling like the sun on a summer’s day,

The window to my soul seen deep through these.

 

My eyes don’t see anger or judge a thought,

They radiate happiness that goes with a smile.

Come see the person that I have become,

Come sit with me and we’ll talk for a while.

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Fire in the sky was the impression left as the sunrise lit up the clouds in the brightest of colors. The patterned wisps like wings moving gracefully across the sky were like angels on a peaceful journey. As the light reflected across the valley it sent long shadows in which the soft pink daisies seemed to dance merrily. Nothing appeared to stir in this early part of the morning as the warmth of the sunlight evaporated the last of the dew that had fallen overnight. The Friendship Tree stood tall and wide, covered the most luscious green leaves, and within it all was silent.

He stood quietly atop the hill surveying all that was laid out before him. It was so serene and full of magic and wonder, still it was just not the same. He thought of the laughter that used to fill the valley in the times gone past and the imaginations that were shared. He listened once again and it was clear that he was alone, ‘but what of the others he thought?’ He walked solemnly along the path with a soft breeze tickling his coat tails. Usually he felt like he could fly, but today he would not soar like a bird in those wispy clouds he had admired earlier, no he would have his feet firmly planted on the ground.

He reached the Friendship Tree with its rough textured bark looking like the lines of age on an old man’s hands, and as he looked around he could not see a trace that anyone had been there lately. He climbed carefully and stood upon the strongest bough, the one where he and his friends would always meet. The butterflies and ladybugs that hung there, suspended so that they would spin freely in the wind, looked tired and worn, and in places had become entangled in a confusing mess. He turned to the book of dreams and the dusty cover that protected the many words it contained, then he lifted it and as he blew, he ran his tiny fingers across it so the words that were embossed could be seen. ‘Leave Your Judgments Behind’, read the gold inlayed words.

As he opened the Book, the first words stirred many memories and he knew that it had been a while since even he scrawled the smallest of stories there. He took a pen from his pocket and he turned the pages of the book to the where the last words had been written, and then he thought for a moment.

Is there ever a time or even a place,

Where thoughts and dreams can be truly shared?

Are there words that are written for all to see clear,

And if there are, does anyone care?

 

The magic and wonder does it even exist,

Or is it just wild imaginings formed in a mind?

And if we even had answers to those questions posed,

What do you think it is we would find?

 

The laughter of children that once rang from a tree,

Silenced for now or for time evermore.

Hard as it is to believe what appears,

The challenge we seek now stands here before.

 

Don’t let the dreams go away, disappear,

Don’t let them fade or wither and die,

Hold onto the things that are wondrous and true,

Make them your wish on a star in the sky.

 

Believing in all that believing can be,

Finding the words where they hide also deep.

Here in this Book, where they all can be read,

On pages they are, forever to keep.

 

A gentle breeze blew through the Tree carrying familiar distant sounds, echoing from the furthest reaches of the valley. Intertwined with the soft roar of the ocean waves, overshadowed but there just the same, they spoke of hope. They did not come closer, but they were there and he hoped one day that they would return to the tree where all could hear them. As the sun continued to dance its light upon the wide-open field, like the shadows of his friends running here and there, he closed the Book and placed it securely in the protection of the Tree. He would leave soon, but he would return and when he did he would bring his dreams for all to share. His magic would wait for another day when the stars would come to life like dancing children lost in another world.

 

As he stood once more in the silence, his thoughts drifted and he wondered. ‘Were they just lost? Had they taken a different path, misunderstood what it was all about, and if so where were they now waiting?’ He ran along the path with its sparkling, spangled dragonflies, like tiny blue jewels, and he climbed the hill once again. The ocean lured him now and as it did he became excited at what it may offer. The sound of the waves as they crashed upon the rocks was like life, and again he could hear the cries from a distance, as they rolled in across the deep blue ocean. He took a candle from his coat pocket and he lit it, carefully placing it in the lantern that was now dangling from his outstretched arm. The soft glow gave a feeling of warmth as the candle bathed him in its yellow light.

 

Like a star hung low in the sky, he could see the smallest of lights as it bobbed up and down on the horizon, then as he continued to look a second light appeared. Familiar voices called from afar, followed by the giggling of children as the lights grew even brighter still. The sun had long disappeared and the moon had not long risen, sending its beam of soft light to stretch across the ocean like a path to guide them. The paper boat on which they sailed had locked its course as if pulled by an invisible string. As it came closer he thought of how he had believed they would return one day, but even now it was much earlier than even he expected and he was excited. As they came into view he gave an excited wave, and they returned it with laughter as only they could both share.

“So where have you been?” he asked, in part with concern and at the same time in wondering if they had left and not taken him.

“We have been on a journey to find ourselves, and at the same time we have come to understand even more who you are.” They said as they exchanged words and gaze between each other. “Yes,” explained his friend with the ruby lips. “We learnt so much and we don’t think we will get lost ever again.” Her small friend nodded in agreement, rather pleased with herself. He held out his hand and helped them from the boat, hugging each as they stepped upon the soft sand. They followed the sea grass lined path as it wound its was to the cliff top. There they could see the Tree in all its glory, lit like the night sky by a thousand fireflies.

 

They sat for a while before lying on their backs to stare into the star filled sky, and telling the tales of their adventure. He longed to share his words written in the Book of Dreams, but for now it was their turn to tell him the most wonderful stories of their magical journey. He would listen intently to their every word, for one day a tale would be told for the entire world to know.

 

Sometimes we all get lost, and with time we will find what it is we are looking for. Sometimes a journey must be taken. One which may be shared, or taken on your own, and then there are times that the answers are clear to see and they unfold before you like the pages of a book.

What is the journey you take now?

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