A Welcome Song

I reached down inside my husk of heart triying to feel that little bits of colorful stones. They crept in without me expecting of their advance, like a growing rose bush in summer; with thorns just to protect me from the vicious world. Slowly but constantly they grow into me blooming their soothing, hilarious, colorful scented blossoms. The knowledge of having them inside grants me the good feeling of hope: Of hope that my core would somehow someday no longer a weary husk.

I welcome you inside my little motley stones.... help me splash my little world with brighter hues.

Words can not portray the thousands corridors of my feelings. I told myself not to go back to the place anymore, but my feet rebell against my warnings. My mind drifts alone to the spots of recent past and wishful future without me noticing; leaving my body lying soulless on the ground. And when I am there to the full and entire extent, I am always greedily devouring every detail I can catch; celebrating every step, breath, heartbeat. I can not resist to play. Everytime it pleasantly abstracts me from my immediate reality.

I have trespassed the sphere of the goddess of the hunt and enjoyed the accompany of her deer. She is coming to hunt me down and expel me out of her land.

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I have lived for today. I saved so many diamonds and pearls just for this very day. I have dreamt of today. I fastened my fairy tales with my most fanciful stitches. I have lived for this withered day and I ended it laughing at my murdered expectations.

Look at her swaying her hands towards the sky. Drooling looking at the first prize over the clouds stomping her feet like an undernourished horse I once saw on the street. Is she a disgrace to our kind? Or are we all capable of being that way in exasperation? But mother, she disgusts me.

Princess, why are you still weeping beside the pond? You won't get your golden ball back, if you don't go for it yourself. Never should you ponder to let a green slimy frog to help you. It doesn't really matter if it is actually an enchanted prince from a far away land. A frog is still going to be a frog and it is better for you to be able to stand on your own feet for the first time. Shake the trees and let your dress rip and your blood trickle out of your cuts. Trust me, Princess. In the end you will be a strong queen.

February Goodbyes

Floating over the ensheathed city I am looking for a little island to rest my wings. I was looking for the little tree, that once hugged my worries away. I was searching for the spring breeze, which had thrust my rocking boat gently through the storm. Their traces have faded before I could recount all of our reminiscences.
This blinded city of the south is deserted.

I am missing you.

My little hugging tree, gentle spring breeze, elfish sensible muse, purifying crystal water, pampering looking glass, smooth seashell, warming quartz sand.