Pebbled Dreams

In a tower far away, pebbles accelerate as they burst in short babbles out of the highest window.  Legend affirms they are the earthy-frozen representations of the joyful tears of the maiden who lives amongst the fairies that guard her eternally.  These fairies, who are often confused for snowflakes and icicles, make the tower a spectacle worth watching.  As people watch an icy haze swallow the tallest tower consumptively they fail to observe that the pebbles land in the small well below.  To the captive above it is a wishing-well, to the captivated below she is a goddess who will sweep among the people curing diseases, inspiring virility, commanding purity.  Both parties understand each other in mystical terms that seem fantastically true.  The pebbles still cascade, in a not-so cascading way.  The intimacy of the pebble falling into the water provides reality to the captive’s desires; as the water embraces the stone it immediately consumes it with great hunger simultaneously quenching the pebble’s thirst.

One fairy glistens brightest of all.  Her beauty is said to be a minute reflection of the great beauty held within.  What the many fail to realize is that they understand the beauty within to be the maiden’s beauty-of-out.  This dream is attractive, as is, they affirm, the maiden.  Her form appears to them in sleep; she is intangible.  She whispers and sings to willow trees, who weep to know her.  They bow eternally in reverence to the sunshine she bestows upon them.  She dances upon river-tops, providing zealous and racing life to the waters around, keeping them fresh and voluminous.  They never imagine her to be sad.  That is something they do not recognize in relation to the maiden; for, she provides such joy to her blissful audience that they always smile at her everlasting presence.

As the captive stares out from wide windows that hide all but an outline to the people, she reaches out desirously towards the trees.  She sees one pair upon a lazy hill, where lovers meet, entangled from their roots into delicious knots.  Bees harmoniously buzz providing a gentle nestling ground for lovers to feast in one another’s presence.  The captivated watch deliriously as she blesses lovers and brings them heavenliness lifelong.  But darkness.  She has closed her eyes.  Arm stretched forth.  Dreaming.  Never saddened, no.  The crisp air that reaches her opens her lungs as she deeply consumes its freshness.  The beauty she see below always makes her smile with joy.  Perhaps, her role is necessary, she ponders as she eats iced, mallowed-honeyed-dew.  Numa prescribed her role many suns ago; the moon has remained infinitely.  Alone, yet united in a mirrored prescription that, in its nature, provides a substantial and satiating description of hope realized and desire imbibed.

~fin

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