Discover, Share, Connect
The prince had been born on a starlit night, amid the warmth of late summer. Some say it became part of him, that brilliant light from above and cozy feelings remaining from sunshine behind and ahead. I guess I saw that in him, always assured that there was a sparkle in every darkness, behind every cloud. It was as if when coldness came he was the warmth, as if his baby skin took it all in and kept it safe. His voice had a slowness, as if he had all the time in the world to talk with me, as if I really mattered to him. I can say that there is no person who ever held me in his eyes the way he did, another might need use of arms, not he. Yet in all that gentle spirit there was a warrior, one who would make any sacrifice to save others, to guard them, pay any price.
The leaves were green arrow heads, as translucent as the finest paper, their stems quills that waved in the warm summer air. How they came together, wind and foliage, neither taking, yet both giving and receiving just the same, both an intrinsic part of "the now."
Upon the sand is a boat, so still upon golden waves. She is every colour Leon loves so much, every hue of pastel that brings the seafront to mind. Her paint is flaked, showing the colours of yesteryear, revealing them so that they may dance in the sunlight once more. He lets his fingers mover over her surface, taking in each imperfection, all of which add to her beauty.
Of you enemies, of those you have cast themselves as adversaries, steadfast in their coldness, contempt and hate - pray for them with the deepest of love. Pray that they find what inner peace is, for with inner peace there is no hate. Pray that they come to know the depths of their humanity, for then contempt melts as snow under a warm sun. Pray that bathed in that sunlight their hearts beat anew and they feel as children once more. We are not born to judge but to love, to live that love in our deeds and creeds, to be healers with our natural talents, with the simplicity of a smile, a hug. Grace is a softness of spirit, a gentle nature, an openness of the soul and humility. Be grace, be forgiveness, be the warmth in the cold. And in this way of being your mind will be free, your soul light and your heart strong.
When I left you it wasn't malice, not bad ice, the kind that comes as a knife in the back, twisted without tear. It was what I call "bonice," good ice, the kind I need to protect those I love and myself from your capricious harm. I'm okay with my intentions, of what I did and why, because it was rooted in love. Judging actions is for fools; only the wise see the real reasons beneath, see the person in pain and the troubles they navigate with the wisdom of a sea captain.
Ask me for help, just ask. I promise that when you do, it is a blessing on us both. To help is a gift; to be asked is trust and the start of a bond. It is one way we love one another more deeply. So when I give to you, it is with love and gratitude. What else are we here for other than to show our love in our actions?
By the door was a woven mat, fashioned from rustic strings, enriched with the mud of thousands of boots - a testimony to the life that dwelled in the house. Natalie smiled as if she could hear the laughter of the children as they returned with new memories of the woodland, infused with the sound of the streams so full after rain. The door mat could have been replaced years ago, its edges were frayed and curled, but it was still here. Sebastian had had the floor polished, the curtains made anew and the walls painted... yet still it remained, giving treasured mind-photographs, the best kind of life-nostalgia.
Jim hated anything that made him sweat. He hated the things everyone else said would make him fit, give him the body he wanted. Nothing worked, not for years, because there was nothing he wanted in sports. Then one day Terry put a weight under his desk, "When you finish a bit of work, or a game, lift that a few times." So he did. Just a few times for each arm, and went back to doing his thing. After a while it felt too light and he added some more weights, carrying on with the same thing... it changed his life. He shopped for a yoga mat, made his breaks include sit ups and planks, stuff that at first he couldn't do at all. He slimmed right down. I actually never thought it would work. I was watching him thinking, "Really?" It did though, it really did.
Jerry sat on the beach, his eyes moving from sand to stone, from rock pools to breaking waves. In the gentle spring sunshine he felt as if he were swimming in the briny aroma, as if the new rays of the day brought a frisson of energy to his finger tips. It was a day for letting his eyes stay open, as he were an old fashioned camera, remaining still while the image developed. The gulls brought their hight notes to the percussion of pebbles at the shoreline. It was a day for dreaming, for allowing time to move fast and slow.
We have these bicycles now, ones we still pedal to keep fit, but they go as fast as the motorbikes of your day. We convert that pedal power to electricity and the engines we have now, well, a little energy goes a long way.
The sunrise means so many things as it drifts in, igniting the colours of my room. This light is the greatest artist in history, creating beauty on the canvas beyond this window pane. It shines a path to my friends, and, as my mind wanders to them, I feel my eyes smile and a rising coziness in my core. Along the way, these new rays will reveal silken webs and grass wands of many hues, the rich browns of oak arms, the silver-cream of our moon above. Even before I move the duvet, I have dreamed each waving leaf, telling its own story to the wind with each dancing flutter.
The man stood there, a sort of toddler expanded to adult size, irritation in his anger, a sort of impetuousness. I watched as thin blond hair moved over skin that yearned for more shade and rest. His eyes were on the small side, as if afraid to let the light in; his mouth was small and rigid, as if only used for the sort of smiles that mask cruelty, perhaps born of a lifetime of suspicion and the special kind of superiority that radiates contempt. It was one of those mouths that only twitch upward when a deception is achieved. If this were 'Transformers,' he'd be one of Megatron's lot for sure. "Go back to the freak show!" he snarled.
A small laugh escaped my lips, "Freak show? Oh man, if you're here, I'm already there."